Sebastian.

Antonio,

Foul weather?

Very foul.

Gonzalo. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,

Antonio. He'd sow't with nettle-seed.

Sebastian.

Or docks, or mallows. Gonzalo. And were the king on't, what would I do? Sebastian. Scape being drunk, for want of wine. Gonzalo. I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would I admit ; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; No occupation; all men idle, all;

And women too, but innocent and pure;

No sovereignty ;

Sebastian.

Yet he would be king on't.

Antonio. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.

Gonzalo. All things in common nature should produce

Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,

Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,

Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
Of it own kind, all foison, all abundance,

To feed my innocent people.

Sebastian. No marrying 'mong his subjects?

Antonio. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. Gonzalo. I would with such perfection govern, sir, T'excel the golden age.

Sebastian.

Save his majesty !

Antonio. Long live Gonzalo !
Gonzalo.

And, do you mark me, sir?—

Alonso. Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. Gonzalo. I do well believe your highness; and did it to

minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.

Antonio. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.

Gonzalo. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. Antonio. What a blow was there given !

Sebastian. An it had not fallen flat-long.

Gonzalo. You are gentlemen of brave mettle: you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.

Enter ARIEL (invisible) playing solemn music. Sebastian. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Antonio. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

Gonzalo. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Antonio. Go sleep, and hear us.

[All sleep except Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio.

Alonso. What, all so soon asleep!

I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclin'd to do so.

Sebastian.

Please you, sir,

Sebastian. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

Antonio. It is the quality o' th' climate.

Sebastian.

Why

Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.

Antonio.

Nor I; my spirits are nimble.

They fell together all, as by consent;

They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian ?—O, what might ?—No more :—
And yet methinks I see it in thy face,

What thou shouldst be: th' occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination sees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.

Sebastian.

What, art thou waking?

Antonio. Do you not hear me speak?
Sebastian.

I do; and surely

It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep

With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.

Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die, rather; wink'st
Whiles thou art waking.

Sebastian.

Thou dost snore distinctly;

There's meaning in thy snores.

Antonio. I am more serious than my custom: you

Must be so too, if heed me; which to do,

If

you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,

You more invest it! Ebbing men indeed

Most often do so near the bottom run
By their own fear or sloth.

Sebastian.

Prithee, say on:

The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim
A matter from thee, and a birth, indeed,
Which throes thee much to yield.

Antonio.

Thus, sir:

Although this lord of weak remembrance,—this,
Who shall be of as little memory

When he is earth'd,-hath here almost persuaded,→
For he's a spirit of persuasion, only

Professes to persuade,—the king his son's alive,

'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd,

As he that sleeps here swims.

Sebastian.

That he's undrown'd.

Antonio.

I have no hope

O, out of that no hope

is

What great hope have you! no hope that way
Another way so high a hope, that even
Ambition can not pierce a wink beyond,
But doubts discovery there.
That Ferdinand is drown'd?

Sebastian.
Antonio.

Will you grant with me

Who's the next heir of Naples ?

Sebastian.

Antonio. She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells
Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post,—

The man i' th' moon's too slow,-till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable; she from whom

We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again;
And by that destiny to perform an act

Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come,
In yours and my discharge.

Sebastian.

What stuff is this! How say you?

'Tis true, my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis;

So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions

There is some space.

cubit

Antonio.
A space whose every
Seems to cry out, "How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake." Say, this were death
That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no worse
Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate
As amply and unnecessarily

As this Gonzalo: I myself could make

A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?
Sebastian. Methinks I do.

And look how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before. My brother's servants
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.

Sebastian. But, for your conscience—

Antonio. Ay, sir; where lies that? If 'twere a kibe, 'Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not

This deity in my bosom. Twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they,
And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon,

If he were that which now he's like,—that's dead;
Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed forever; whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who