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- Edition: The Tempest
The Tempest (Folio 1, 1623)
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8
The Tempest.
877Alon. Thanke you: Wondrous heauy.
879Ant. It is the quality o'th'Clymate.
880Seb. Why
884They fell together all, as by consent
885They dropt, as by a Thunder-stroke: what might
886Worthy Sebastian? O, what might? no more:
887And yet, me thinkes I see it in thy face,
890Dropping vpon thy head.
891Seb. What? art thou waking?
901Whiles thou art waking.
903There's meaning in thy snores.
906Trebbles thee o're.
911Ant. O!
913Whiles thus you mocke it: how in stripping it
914You more inuest it: ebbing men, indeed
916By their owne feare, or sloth.
918The setting of thine eye, and cheeke proclaime
919A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
920Which throwes thee much to yeeld.
921Ant. Thus Sir:
922Although this Lord of weake remembrance; this
923Who shall be of as little memory
927'Tis as impossible that hee's vndrown'd,
929Seb. I haue no hope
930That hee's vndrown'd.
931Ant. O, out of that no hope,
932What great hope haue you? No hope that way, Is
933Another way so high a hope, that euen
934Ambition cannot pierce a winke beyond
935But doubt discouery there. Will you grant with me
936That Ferdinand is drown'd.
937Seb. He's gone.
938Ant. Then tell me, who's the next heire of Naples?
939Seb. Claribell.
941Ten leagues beyond mans life: she that from Naples
943The Man i'th Moone's too slow, till new-borne chinnes
944Be rough, and Razor-able: She that from whom
947Whereof, what's past is Prologue; what to come
948In yours, and my discharge.
950'Tis true my brothers daughter's Queene of Tunis,
951So is she heyre of Naples, 'twixt which Regions
954Seemes to cry out, how shall that Claribell
956And let Sebastian wake. Say, this were death
958Then now they are: There be that can rule Naples
959As well as he that sleepes: Lords, that can prate
960As amply, and vnnecessarily
961As this Gonzallo: I my selfe could make
962A Chough of as deepe chat: O, that you bore
963The minde that I do; what a sleepe were this
964For your aduancement? Do you vnderstand me?
965Seb. Me thinkes I do.
966Ant. And how do's your content
967Tender your owne good fortune?
968Seb. I remember
970Ant. True:
971And looke how well my Garments sit vpon me,
972Much feater then before: My Brothers seruants
973Were then my fellowes, now they are my men.
975Ant. I Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe
976'Twould put me to my slipper: But I feele not
978That stand 'twixt me, and Millaine, candied be they,
979And melt ere they mollest: Heere lies your Brother,
980No better then the earth he lies vpon,
981If he were that which now hee's like (that's dead)
982Whom I with this obedient steele (three inches of it)
983Can lay to bed for euer: whiles you doing thus,
984To the perpetuall winke for aye might put
985This ancient morsell: this Sir Prudence, who
993Shall free thee from the tribute which thou paiest,
994And I the King shall loue thee.
995Ant. Draw together:
996And when I reare my hand, do you the like
997To fall it on Gonzalo.
998Seb. O, but one word.
999Enter Ariell with Musicke and Song.
1001That you (his friend) are in, and sends me forth
1003 Sings in Gonzaloes eare.
If