Seb. Well; I am standing water. Ant. I'll teach you how to flow. Hereditary sloth instructs me. Do so; to ebb, If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, 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 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 But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with me, 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' the moon's too slow) till new-born chins Be rough and razorable: she, from whom We were all sea-swallow'd, though some cast again; And, by that, destin'd to perform an act, Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come, In your's 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. A space whose every cubit Ant. 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 chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore Seb. Methinks I do. Ant. And how does your content Tender your own good fortune? Seb. I remember, True: You did supplant your brother Prospero. Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kybe, If he were that which now he's like; whom I, A bird of the jack-daw kind. With this obedient steel, three inches of it, For all the rest, They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk; Seb. Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan, I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st; And I the king shall love thee. Ant. Draw together: Seb. O, but one word! [They converse apart. Musick. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible. Ari. 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 ear. While you here do snoring lie, Open-ey'd conspiracy His time doth take: If of life you keep a care, Ant. 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 It struck mine ear most terribly. Alon. you? 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. Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo? 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: '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 further search For my poor son. Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island. Alon. Lead away. Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done : So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Aside. [Exeunt SCENE II. Another part of the Island. Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, 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, Enter TRINCULO. Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment 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: yond' same black cloud, yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard 8 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 chose but fall by pailfuls. What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? 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 a holidayfool 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. Legged 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 fish, but an 7 Make mouths. 8 A black jack of leather, to hold beer. |