Ant. Long live Gonzalo !
Gon.

And, do you mark me, sir ? 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 laughed 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.

a

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. Erit Ariel.
Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.
Seb.

Why
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself disposed 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 ?-0, what might ?—No more :-
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,
What thou shouldst be: the occasion 1 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 1 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.

0,
If
you
but knew, how

you
the
purpose

cherish,
Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
You more invest it! 2 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.

1 If you bestow attention, it will in the end make you thrice what you are.

? How, in stripping the words of their common mearing, and using them figuratively, you adapt them to your own situation !

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
Professes to persuade) the king, his son 's alive;
"T'is as impossible that he's undrown'd,
As he that sleeps here, swims.
Seb.

I have no hope
That he's undrown'd.
Ant.

0, out of that no hope, What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is Another

way so high a hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with

me, That Ferdinand is drown'd ? Seb.

Then tell me, 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; 1 she that from

Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post, (The man i' the moon 's too slow) till new-born

He's gone.

Ant.

1

Be rough and razorable: she, from whom 1
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.

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 seized 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 3 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