Page:Tempest (1918) Yale.djvu/46

The Tempest, II. i

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,

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

For 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.

Ant. True:

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 it were a kibe,

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

This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,

That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they,

And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother,

No better than the earth he lies upon,

If he were that which now he's like, that's dead;

 267 Measure: trace

273, 274 make chat: teach a jackdaw to chatter as profoundly

277 content: contentment

278 Tender: provide for

281 feater: more gracefully

284 kibe: chilblain

287 candied, etc.; cf. n.

