Seb. Well; I am standing water. Ant. I'll teach you how to flow. Hereditary sloth instructs me. Ant. O, If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, Seb. Pr'ythee, say on: The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim 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,) 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 Another way so high an hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubts 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? Seb. Claribel. Ant. She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Be rough and razorable; she, from whom again; And, by that, destin'd 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, 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 this Gonzalo; I myself could make A chongh 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 Tender your own good fortune? Seb. 1 remember, You did supplant your brother Prospero. And, look, how well my garments fit upon me; Seb. But, for your conscience Ant. Ay, Sir; where lies that? if it were a kybe, If he were that which now he's like; whom I, This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Seb. Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan, Ant. Draw together: And when I rear my hand, do you the like Seb. O, but one word. [They converse apart. Musick. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible. Ariel. My Master through his art foresees the danger That these, his friends, are in; and sends me forth, (For else his project dies,) to keep them living. [Sings in GONZALO's car. While you here do snoring lie, Open-ey'd conspiracy His time doth take: If of life you keep a care, Shake off slumber, and beware: Aut. Then let us both be sudden. Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the King! [They wake. Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking? Gon. What's the matter? Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions; did it not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly. Alon. I heard nothing. Ant. 0, 'twas a din to fright a monster's 'car; To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions. Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo ? Gon. Upon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming, An 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: 'Best stand upon our guard; Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make fur. ther search For my poor son. Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island. Alon. Lead away. Ariel. Prospero my Lord shall know what I have done: [Aside: So, King, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another part of the island. Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard. Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, Aats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin shows, 4 mirc, pitch me i' the Nor lead me, like a fire brand, in the dark Enter TRINCULO. Here comes a spirit of his; and 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' the wind: youd' same black cloud, yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard that would shed his liquor. lf it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What have - |