_Anto._ 'Twas you we laugh'd at.

_Gonza._ Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you:[401-33] so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

_Anto._ What a blow was there given!

_Sebas._ An it had not fallen flat-long.[401-34]

_Gonza._ You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the Moon out of her sphere, if she would[402-35] continue in it five weeks without changing.

_Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music._

_Sebas._ We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling.[402-36]

_Anto._ Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

_Gonza._ No, I warrant you; I will not adventure[402-37] my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep? for I am very heavy.

_Anto._ Go sleep, and hear us not.

[_All sleep[402-38] but ALON., SEBAS., and ANTO._

_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.

_Sebas._ Please you, sir, Do not omit[402-39] the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter.

_Anto._ We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, And watch your safety.

_Alon._ Thank you.--Wondrous heavy.[403-40]

[_ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL._

_Sebas._ What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

[Ill.u.s.tration: ANTONIO AND SEBASTIAN PLOTTING]

_Anto._ It is the quality o' the climate.

_Sebas._ Why Doth it not, then, our eyelids sink? I find not Myself disposed to sleep.

_Anto._ Nor I; my spirits are nimble.

They[404-41] fell together all, as by consent; They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian, O, what might![404-42] No more: And yet methinks I see it in thy face, What thou shouldst be: th' occasion speaks thee;[404-43] and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head.

_Sebas._ What, art thou waking?

_Anto._ Do you not hear me speak?

_Sebas._ 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.

_Anto._ n.o.ble Sebastian, Thou lett'st thy fortune sleep,--die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking.[404-44]

_Sebas._ Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores.

_Anto._ I am more serious than my custom: you Must be so too, if heed[404-45] me; which to do Trebles thee o'er.[404-46]

_Sebas._ Well, I am standing water.[405-47]

_Anto._ I'll teach you how to flow.

_Sebas._ Do so: to ebb Hereditary sloth instructs me.

_Anto._ O, If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it![405-48] Ebbing men,[405-49] indeed, Most often do so near the bottom run By their own fear or sloth.

_Sebas._ Pr'ythee, say on: The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter[405-50] from thee; and a birth indeed Which throes thee much to yield.[405-51]

_Anto._ Thus, sir: Although this lord[405-52] of weak remembrance, this Who shall be of as little memory[405-53]

When he is earth'd,[405-54] hath here almost persuaded-- For he's a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade--the King his son's alive, 'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd As he that sleeps here swims.

_Sebas._ I have no hope That he's undrown'd.

_Anto._ O, 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[406-55] beyond-- But doubt discovery there.[406-56] Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown'd?

_Sebas._ He's gone.

_Anto._ Then, tell me, Who's the next heir of Naples?

_Sebas._ Claribel.

_Anto._ She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life;[406-57] she that from Naples Can have no note,[406-58] unless the Sun were post,--[406-59]

The Man-i'-the-moon's too slow,--till new-born chins Be rough and razorable. She 'twas for whom we All were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again;[406-60]

And, by that destiny, to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come[406-61]

In yours and my discharge.

_Sebas._ 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 s.p.a.ce.

_Anto._ A s.p.a.ce whose every cubit Seems to cry out, _How shall thou, Claribel, Measure us back[407-62] 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[407-63] 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[407-64] of as deep chat.[407-65] O, that you bore The mind that I do! what a sleep were this For your advancement! Do you understand me?

_Sebas._ Methinks I do.

_Anto._ And how does your content Tender your own good fortune?[407-66]

_Sebas._ I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero.

_Anto._ True: And look how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater[407-67] than before: my brother's servants Were then my fellows; now they are my men.

_Sebas._ But, for your conscience--