875Ant. We two my Lord, will guard your person,

876While you take your rest, and watch your safety.

877Alon. Thanke you: Wondrous heauy.

878Seb. What a strange drowsines possesses them?

879Ant. It is the quality o'th'Clymate.

880Seb. Why

881Doth it not then our eye-lids sinke? I finde

882Not my selfe dispos'd to sleep.

883Ant. Nor I, my spirits are nimble:

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,

888What thou should'st be: th'occasion speaks thee, and

889My strong imagination see's a Crowne

890Dropping vpon thy head.

891Seb. What? art thou waking?

892Ant. Do you not heare me speake?

893Seb. I do, and surely

894It is a sleepy Language; and thou speak'st

895Out of thy sleepe: What is it thou didst say?

896This is a strange repose, to be asleepe

897With eyes wide open: standing, speaking, mouing:

898And yet so fast asleepe.

899Ant. Noble Sebastian,

900Thou let'st thy fortune sleepe: die rather: wink'st

901Whiles thou art waking.

902Seb. Thou do'st snore distinctly,

903There's meaning in thy snores.

904Ant. I am more serious then my custome: you

905Must be so too, if heed me: which to do,

906Trebbles thee o're.

907Seb. Well: I am standing water.

908Ant. Ile teach you how to flow.

909Seb. Do so: to ebbe

910Hereditary Sloth instructs me.

911Ant. O!

912If you but knew how you the purpose cherish

913Whiles thus you mocke it: how in stripping it

914You more inuest it: ebbing men, indeed

915(Most often) do so neere the bottome run

916By their owne feare, or sloth.

917Seb. 'Pre-thee say on,

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

924When he is earth'd, hath here almost perswaded

925(For hee's a Spirit of perswasion, onely

926Professes to perswade) the King his sonne's aliue,

927'Tis as impossible that hee's vndrown'd,

928As he that sleepes heere, swims.

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.

940Ant. She that is Queene of Tunis: she that dwels

941Ten leagues beyond mans life: she that from Naples

942Can haue no note, vnlesse the Sun were post:

943The Man i'th Moone's too slow, till new-borne chinnes

944Be rough, and Razor-able: She that from whom

945We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast againe,

946(And by that destiny) to performe an act

947Whereof, what's past is Prologue; what to come

948In yours, and my discharge.

949Seb. What stuffe is this? How say you?

950'Tis true my brothers daughter's Queene of Tunis,

951So is she heyre of Naples, 'twixt which Regions

952There is some space.

953Ant. A space, whose eu'ry cubit

954Seemes to cry out, how shall that Claribell

955Measure vs backe to Naples? keepe in Tunis,

956And let Sebastian wake. Say, this were death

957That now hath seiz'd them, why they were no worse

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

969You did supplant your Brothet Prospero.

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.

974Seb. But for your conscience.

975Ant. I Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe

976'Twould put me to my slipper: But I feele not

977This Deity in my bosome: 'Twentie consciences

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

986Should not vpbraid our course: for all the rest

987They'l take suggestion, as a Cat laps milke,

988They'l tell the clocke, to any businesse that

989We say befits the houre.

990Seb. Thy case, deere Friend

991Shall be my president: As thou got'st Millaine,

992I'le come by Naples: Draw thy sword, one stroke

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.

1000Ariel. My Master through his Art foresees the danger

1001That you (his friend) are in, and sends me forth

1002(For else his proiect dies) to keepe them liuing.