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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. Why then thus, fir:
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'as 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.
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
way so high an hope, that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
But drops discovery there. Will you grant, with me,
That Ferdinand is drown'd?
Seb. He's gone.
Ant. Then, tell me,
Who's the next heir of Naples ?
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'th' moon's too slow) ’till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable ; she from whom
We were sea-swallow’d; though some, cast again,
May by that destiny perform an act,
Whereof, what's past is prologue, what to come
* No advices by letter.
THE T E M P ES T.
Is 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 ev'ry cubit
Seems to cry out, how shalt thou, Claribel,
Measure it back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake. Say, this were death
That now hath seiz'd 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 of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do; what a sleep were this
your advancement! do you understand me? Seb. Methinks, I do.
Ant. And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?
Seb. I remember,
You did supplant your brother Prospero.
And, look, how well my garments fit upon me,
Much feater than before. My brother's servants
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.
Seb. But, for
Ant. Ay, fir; where lyes that ?
If 'twere a kibe, 'twould put me to my Nipper :
But I feel not this deity in my bosom.
Ten consciences that stood 'twixt me and Milan,
Candy'd were they, wou'd melt ere they molested.
Here lyes your brother,
No better than the earth he lyes upon,
If he were that which now he's like, that's dead;
Whom I with this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever; you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, this fir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk;
They'll tell the clock to any bufiness that
We say befits the hour.
Seb. Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent: as thou got'st Milan,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy fword; one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'ft,
And I the king shall love thee.
Ant. Draw together :
And when I rear my hand, do you the like
To fall it on Gonzalo.
Seb. But one word.
Enter Ariel with musick and fong.
Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger
That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth
(For else his project dies) to keep you living.
[Sings in Gonzalo's car.
While you here do fnoaring lye,
His time doth take :
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off Number, and beware.
Ant. Then let us both be sudden.
Gon. Now, good angels preserve the king!
[They awake. Alon. Why, how now, ho? awake! why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking ?
Gon. What's the matter ?
Seb. While we stood here securing your repose, Ev'n now we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions; did't not wake you?
It strook mine ear most terribly.
Alon. I heard nothing.
Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear;
To make an earthquake: sure, it was the roar
Of a whole herd of lions.
Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me.
I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd; as mine eyes open’d,
I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise,
That's verity. 'Tis best we stand on guard;
Or that we quit this place : let's draw our weapons.
Alon. Lead off this ground, and let's make further search
For my poor fon.
Gon. Heav'ns keep him from these beasts !
For he is, fure, i'th' island.
Alon. Lead away.
Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done.
So, king, go safely on to seek thy fon.
Changes to another part of the island.
Enter Caliban with a burden of wood : a noise of thunder heard,
Cal. L L the infections that the fun fucks up
From bogs, fens, Alats, on Profper fall, and make hini
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll not pinch,
Fright me with urchin shews, pitch me i'th’mire,
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid'em; but
trifle are they set upon me.
Sometime like apes; that moe and chatter at me,
And after bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lye tumbling in my bare-foot-way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I
All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness. Lo! now! lo!
Here comes a sp’rit of his now to torment me,
For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat;
Perchance, he will not mind me.
Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' th' wind: yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head : yond same cloud cannot chuse but fall by pailfuls --What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? a fish; he smells like a fish :
he smells like a fish : a very ancient and fishlike smell. A kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John: a strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not an holyday-fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg’d like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o'my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer; this is no fifh, but an islander that hath lately suffer'd by a thunder-bolt. Alas! the storm is come again. My best way is to creep under his gabardine : there is no other shelter hereabout; misery acquaints a man with frange bed-fellows: I will here shrowd 'till the dregs of the storm be past.
Enter Stephano finging. Ste. I pall no more to sea, to sea, bere shall I die a-shore. This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: well, here's