Seb.

Ant.

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 256 There is some space.

A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, "How shall that Claribel

Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake." Say, this were death 260
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

265

A chough 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.

And look how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater than before. My brother's servants Were then my fellows; now they are my men. Seb. But, for your conscience?

Ant. Ay, sir, where lies that? If 'twere a kibe,

275

Seb.

Ant.

"Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not

This deity in my bosom.
That stand 'twixt me and
And melt ere they molest!

Twenty consciences,
Milan, candied be they
Here lies your brother,

No better than the earth he lies upon

281

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; whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put

285

This ancient morsel, this Sir 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 business that
We say befits the hour.

Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan,

289

I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword. One stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest,
And I the King shall love thee.

Draw together;

295

And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.

Seb.

O, but one word.

[They talk apart.]

Re-enter Ariel [invisible], with music and song.

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 them living.

Alon. Why, how now? Ho, awake! Why are you

drawn?

Wherefore this ghastly looking?

310

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't not wake you?
It struck 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.

314

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 cried. As mine eyes open'd,

I saw their weapons drawn. There was a noise,
That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our

guard,

321

Or that we quit this place. Let's draw our

weapons.

Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make further

Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done. So, King, go safely on to seek thy son.

SCENE II

[Another part of the island.]

Exeunt.

Enter Caliban with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard.

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,

Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark

6

Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but
For every trifle are they set upon me,
Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me
And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount
Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I
All wound with adders who with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness.

10

Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me 15
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. Yond same black 20
cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bom-
bard 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 choose
but fall by pailfuls. What have we here? A 25
man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish; he
smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like
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 holi-
day fool there but would give a piece of silver. 80