Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to

me.

Gon. 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.

Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

Ant. What a blow was there given?

Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.

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

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

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

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

[All sleep but ALON. SEB. and ANT.

Alon. 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.

Seb. Please you, sir,

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:

It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,

It is a comforter.

Ant. We two, my lord,

while you

take

your rest,

Will guard your person,

And watch your safety.

Alon. Thank you: Wond'rous heavy.

Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

Ant. It is the quality of the climate.

Seb. Why

Doth it not then our eye-lids sink? I find not

Myself dispos'd to sleep.

Ant. 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 should'st be: the occasion speaks thee and

My strong imagination sees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.

Seb. What, art thou waking?

Ant. Do you not hear me speak?

Seb. 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.

Ant. Noble Sebastian,

Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st

Whiles thou art waking.

Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly;

There's meaning in thy snores.

my custom: you

Ant. I am more serious than
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do,

Trebles thee o'er.

Seb. Well; I am standing water.
Ant. I'll teach you how to flow.
Seb. Do so: to ebb,

Hereditary sloth instructs me.
Ant. O,

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.

Seb. Pr'ythee, say on:

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

Ant. 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,)

The king, his son's alive; 'tis as impossible

That he's undrown'd, as he that sleeps here, swims.
Seb. I have no hope

That he's undrown'd.

Ant. O, out of that no hope,

What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is
Another way so high an hope, that even

Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with me, That Ferdinand is drown'd?

Seb. He's gone.
Ant. Then, tell me,

VOL. XVII.

Who's the next heir of Naples?

Seb. Claribel.

Ant. 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'the moon's too slow,) till new-born chins Be rough and razorable: she, from whom

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

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

Seb. 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.

Ant. A space whose every cubit

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?
Seb. Methinks, I do.

Ant. And how does your content

Tender your own good fortune?

Seb. I remember,

You did supplant your brother Prospero.

Ant. True:

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.
Seb. But, for your conscience-

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kybe,
'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; whom I,
With this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever: whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, this sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk;
They'll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.

Seb. Thy case, dear friend,

Shall be my precedent: as thou got'st Milan,

I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st;
And I the king shall love thee.

Ant. Draw together:

And when I rear my hand, do you the like,

To fall it on Gonzalo.

Seb. O, but one word.

[They converse apart.