SCENE II. The Island: before the Cell of Prospero.

Enter Prospero and Miranda.

Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them: The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O, have suffer'd With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her, Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls! they perish'd. Ilad I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and The frei hting souls within her. Be collected;

Pro.

The dire.ul spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely order'd, that there is no soul-
No, not so much perdition as an hair,
Betid to any creature in the vessel

Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit
For thou must now know further.
[down;
Mira.
You have often

Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd
And left me to a bootless inquisition;
Concluding, Stay, not yet.

Pro.

The hour's now come; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time before we came unto this cell?

I do not think thou canst; for then thou wast not Out three years old.

Certainly, sir, I can.

Mira.
Pro. By what? by any other house, or person?
Of any thing the image tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.

Mira.
"Tis far off;
And rather like a dream than an assurance
That my remembrance warrants: had I not
Four or five women once, that tended me?

Pro. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda: but how is it,
That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?
If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here, thou may'st.

Mira.

But that I do not.

What foul play had we, that we came from thence!
Or blessed was't we did!
Pro.

Both, both, my girl:

By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence,
But blessedly holp hither.
Mira.

O, my heart bleeds
To think o'the teen that I have turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance! Please you further.
Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Antonio,-

I pray thee, mark me, that a brother should
Be so perfidious!-he whom, next thyself,
Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put
The manage of my state; as, at that time,
Through all the signiories it was the first,
Aud Prospero the prime duke; being so repa.ed

In dignity, and, for the liberal arts,
Without a parallel; those being all my study,
The government I cast upon my brother,
And to my state grew stranger, being transported,
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle→→
Dost thou attend me ?
Sir, most heedfully.

Mira.
Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them; whom to advance, and whom
To trash for over-topping; new created [them,
The creatures that were mine; I say, or chang'd
Or else new form'd them having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts

O good sir, I do.

To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was
The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,
And suck'd my verdure out on't.-Thou attend'st not:
I pray thee, mark me.
Mira.
Pro. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate
To closeness and the bettering of my mind
With that, which, but by being so retir'd,
O'erpriz'd all popular rate, in my false brother,
Awak'd an evil nature and my trust,

Like a good parent, did beget of him

A falsehood, in its contrary as great

As my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit,
A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,
Not only with what my revenue yielded,
But what my power might else exact,-like one,
Who having, unto truth, by telling of it,
Made such a sinner of his memory,

To credit his own lie,-he did believe
He was the duke; out of the substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative-Hence his ambition
Growing, Dost hear?

Mira.

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Pro. To have no screen between this part he And him he play'd it for, he needs will be [play'd, Absolute Milan me, poor man! my library Was dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties He thinks me now incapable: confederates (So dry he was for sway) with the king of Naples, To give him annual tribute, do him homage; Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend The dukedom, yet unbow'd (alas, poor Milan !) To most ignoble stooping.

Mira.

O the heavens! Pro. Mark his condition, and the event; then tell If this might be a brother.

Mira.

I should sin

To think but nobly of my grandmother : Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Pro.

[me,

Now the condition. This king of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Which was, that he in lieu o'the premises,Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom; and confer fair Milan, With all the honours, on my brother: whereon A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open The gates of Milan; and i'the dead of darkness, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying self.

Mira.

Alack, for pity! I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then, Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint, That wrings mine eyes.

Hear a little farther,

And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon us; without the which, this story Were most impertinent.

Mira.

That hour destroy us? Pro.

Wherefore did they not

Well demanded, wench;

My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not;
(So dear the love my people bore me) nor set
A mark so bloody on the business; but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark;
Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.

But ever see that man!

Pro.

'Would I might

Now I arise :Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arriv'd; and here Have I, thy school-master, made thee more profit Than other princes can, that have more time For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. [you, sir, Mira. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray (For still 'tis beating in my mind), your reason For raising this sea-storm? Know thus far forth.By accident most strange, bountiful fortune, Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies Brought to this shore and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon

Pro.

A most auspicious star; whose influence
If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes

Will ever after droop.-Here cease more questions;
Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way;-I know thou canst not choose.-
[Miranda sleeps.
Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;
Approach, my Ariel; come.

Hast thou, spirit,

Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Ari. To every article.

I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd amazement: sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the top-mast,
The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly;
Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O'the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight outrunning were not: the fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble;
Yea, his dread trident shake.

Pro.

My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Would not infect his reason?

Ari.

Not a soul

But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some trieks of desperation: all, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up starting (then like reeds, not hair,)
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.
Pro.
Why, that's my spirit!
But was not this nigh shore?
Ari.
Close by, my master.
Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe?
Ari.
Not a hair perish'd;
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and, as thou bad'st me,
In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle :
The king's son have I landed by himself;
Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs,
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot.
Pro.

The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd,
And all the rest o'the fleet?

Ari.

Of the king's ship,

Safely in harbour

Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once

Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid
The mariners all under hatches stowed;
Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
I have left asleep and for the rest o'the fleet,
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again;
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples ;

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreek'd,
And his great person perish.

Pro.
Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work":
What is the time o'the day?

Ari.
Past the mid season.
Pro. At least two glasses: the time 'twixt six and
Must by us both be spent most preciously. [now,
Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me
pains,

Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me.

Pro.

What is't thou canst demand?

Ari.

How now ? moody?

My liberty.

Pro. Before the time be out? no more.
Ari.

I pray thee
Remember, I have done thee worthy service
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge, or grumblings: thou didst pro-
To bate me a full year.
[mise
Pro.
Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?
Ari.

Pro. Thou dost; and think'st

No.

It much to tread the ooze of the salt deep; To run upon the sharp wind of the north; To do me business in the veins o'the earth, When it is bak'd with frost.

Ari.

I do not, sir. Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age and envy, Was grown into a hoop hast thou forgot her?

Ari. No, sir.

Pro. Thou hast Ari. Sir, in Argier.

Pro.

Ltell me. where was she born speak;

O, was she so? I must, Once in a month, recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch, Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier,

Thou know'st, was banish'd; for one thing she did, They would not take her life. Is not this true!

Ari. Ay, sir.

[child,

Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyelf, wast then her servant :
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did contine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Ioto a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd, thou didst painfully remain

A dozen years; within which space she died,
And left thee there; where thou didst yent thy groans,
As fast as mill-wheels strike: then was this island
(Save for the son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp, hag-born), not honour'd with
A human shape.

Pro. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban, Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st What torment I did find thee in thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not again undo; it was mine art, When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape The pine, and let thee out.

Ari. I thank thee, master. Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen, Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o'er !

[cramps,

Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have
Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd

As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made them.
Cal.

I must eat my dinner.
This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou tak 'st from me. When thou camest first,
Thou strok 'dst me, and mad'st much of me; wouldst
Water with berries in't; and teach me how [give me
To name the bigger light, and how the less,
That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee,
And shew'd thee all the qualities o'the isle,
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fertile;
Cursed be I that did so!-All the charms
Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
For I am all the subjects that you have,
Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest of the island.

Pro.

Thou most lying slave, [thee,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness; I have us'd
Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodg'd thee
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
The honour of my child.

Cal. O ho, O ho!-'would it had been done!
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.

Abhorred slave;

Pro.
Which any print of goodness will not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,

Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other when thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known: But thy vile race,

Re-enter Ariel, invisible, playing and singing: Ferdinand following him.

ARIEL'S SONG.

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:

Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,

(The wild waves whist)

Foot it featly here and there;

And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

Hark, hark!

Bur. Bowgh, wowgh.

The watch-dogs bark.

Bur. Bowgh, wowgh.

Hark, hark! I hear

The strain of strutting chanticlere,

Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo.

[Dispersedly.

[Dispersedly.

Fer. Where should this music be? i'the air, or the It sounds no more--and sure, it waits upon [earth? Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the king my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters; Allaying both their fury, and my passion, With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather :-But 'tis gone. No, it begins again. Ariel sings. Pull fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes; Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Hark! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell. [Burden, ding-dong. Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father:This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes:-1 hear it now above me. Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say, what thou seest yond'.

[senses

Mira. What is't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form :-But 'tis a spirit. Pro. No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath such As we have, such this gallant which thou seest Was in the wreck, and but he's something stain'd With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou might'st call A goodly person he hath lost his fellows, And strays about to find them.

Mira.

[him

I might call him A thing divine for nothing natural I ever saw so noble. Pro. It goes on, [Aside. As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, tine spirit! I'll free Within two days for this. [thee Fer Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend!-Vouchsafe my prayer May know if you remain upon this island; And that you will some good instruction give, How I may bear me here: my prime request, Which I do last pronounce, is, you wonder! No wonder, sir;

If you be made, or no? Mira.

But, certainly a maid. Fer.

My language! heavens !I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken.

Pro.

How the best! What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee? Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders

natures

Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confin'd into this rock,

Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison.

Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse: the red plague rid you, For learning me your language!

Pro. Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou wert best, To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice? If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps; Fill all thy bones with aches: make thee roar, That beasts shall tremble at thy din. Cal.

And that he does, I weep: myself am Naples;
Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld
The king my father wreck'd.
Mira.
Alack, for mercy!
Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of
And his brave son, being twain.
[Milan,
Pro.
The duke of Milan,
And his more braver daughter, could control thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't.-At the first sight [Aside.
They have chang'd eyes:-Delicate Ariel,

I'll set thee free for this!-A word, good sir;

I fear, you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently! This
Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first
That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!

My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison, once a day,
Behold this maid all corners elsé o'the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

Pro.
It works-Come on.-
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel !-Follow me.—
[To Ferdinand and Miranda,
Hark, what thou else shalt do me.
[To Ariel.
Mira.
Be of comfort;

My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.

SCENE I. Another Part of the Island. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others.

Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have cause (So have we all) of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss: our hint of woe Is common; every day, some sailor's wife, The masters of some merchant, and the merchant, Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort.

Alon.

Pr'ythee, peace. Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.

Ant. He could not miss it.

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.

Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

Adr. The air breathes upon as here most sweetly. Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.

Ant. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a fen.

Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.

Ant. True; save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks? how green ?

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.

Seb. With an eye of green in't.

Ant. He misses not much.

Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is, indeed, almost beyond credit)

Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are.

Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and glosses; being rather new dy'd, than stain'd with salt water.

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, He lies?

Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Africk, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel, to the king of Tunis.

Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Adr. Tunis was never grac'd before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time.

Ant, Widow a pox o'that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido!

Seb. What if he had said widower Eneas too? good lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Adr. Carthage !

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Seb. He bath rais'd the wall, and houses too. Ant. What impossible matter will he make casy next?

Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.

Gon. Ay!

Ant. Why, in good time.

Gon. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis, at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.

DZ

Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it! I mean, in a sort.

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?
Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against
The stomach of my sense: 'would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,

I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee!

Fran.

Sir, he may live;
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted

The surge most swoln that met him his bold head 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke

To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd
As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt,
He came alive to land.

Alon.

No, no, he's gone.

Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss;
That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,
But rather lose her to an African;
Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.
Alon.
Pr'ythee, peace.
Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise
By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at
Which end o'the beam she'd bow. We have lost your
I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have [son,
More widows in them of this business' making,
Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault's
Your own.

Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.
Gon.

My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.
Seb.

Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,

Very well.

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.

When you are cloudy.

Seb.

Ant.

Foul weather!

Very foul. Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed. Seb. Or docks, or mallows. Gon. And were the king of it, What would I do? Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine. Gon. I'the 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; no use of service,

Of riches, or of poverty; no contracts,

Successions; 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:-

Seb.

And yet he would be king on't. Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.

Gon. All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foizon, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects? Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age. Seb.

Ant. Long live Gonzalo ! Gon.

'Save his majesty!

And, do you mark me, sir?Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing

to me.

Con. 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 lift 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 inclined 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,

Will guard your person, while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
Alon.

Thank you wondrous heavy.
[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel.
Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Ant. It is the quality o'the climate.
Why

Seb.

Doth it not then our eyelids 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 shouldst 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.

Ant. I am more serious than my custom you 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.

Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Ant.

Do so to ebb,

0,

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? He's gone. Who's the next heir of Naples ?

Seb. Ant.

Seb.

Then, tell me 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