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8 Ant. We two my Lord, will guard your perſon, While you take your reſt, and watch your ſafety.

Alon. Thanke you: Wondrous heauy.

Seb. What a ſtrange drowſines poſſeſſes them?

Ant. It is the quality o'th'Clymate.

Seb. Why Doth it not then our eye-lids ſinke? I finde Not my ſelfe diſpos'd to ſleep.

Ant. Nor I, my ſpirits are nimble: They fell together all, as by conſent They dropt, as by a Thunder-ſtroke: what might Worthy Sebastian? O, what might? no more: And yet, me thinkes I ſee it in thy face, What thou ſhould'ſt be: th'occaſion ſpeaks thee, and My ſtrong imagination ſee's a Crowne Dropping vpon thy head.

Seb. What? art thou waking?

Ant. Do you not heare me ſpeake?

Seb. I do, and ſurely It is a ſleepy Language; and thou ſpeak'ſt Out of thy ſleepe: What is it thou did it ſay? This is a ſtrange repoſe, to be aſleepe With eyes wide open: ſtanding, ſpeaking, mouing: And yet ſo faſt aſleepe.

Ant. Noble Sebaſtian, Thou let'ſt thy fortune ſleepe: die rather: wink'ſt Whiles thou art waking.

Seb. Thou do'ſt ſnore diſtinctly, There's meaning in thy ſnores.

Ant. I am more ſerious then my cuſtome: you Muſt be ſo too, if heed me: which to do, Trebbles thee o're.

Seb. Well: I am ſtanding water.

Ant. Ile teach you how to flow.

Seb. Do ſo: to ebbe Hereditary Sloth inſtructs me.

Ant. O! If you but knew how you the purpoſe cheriſh Whiles thus you mocke it: how in ſtripping it You more inueſt it: ebbing men, indeed (Moſt often) do fo neere the bottome run By their owne feare, or ſloth.

Seb. 'Pre-thee ſay on, The ſetting of thine eye, and cheeke proclaime A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throwes thee much to yeeld.

Ant. Thus Sir: Although this Lord of weake remembrance; this Who ſhall be of as little memory When he is earth’d, hath here almoſt perſwaded (For hee's a Spirit of perſwaſion, onely Profeſſes to perſwade) the King his ſonne's aliue, 'Tis as impoſsible that hee's vndrown'd, As he that ſleepes heere, ſwims.

Seb. I haue no hope That hee's vndrown'd.

Ant. O, out of that no hope, What great hope haue you? No hope that way, Is Another way ſo high a hope, that euen Ambition cannot pierce a winke beyond But doubt diſcouery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown'd.

Seb. He's gone.

Ant. Then tell me,who's the next heire of Naples?

Seb. Claribell.

Ant. She that is Queene of Tunis: ſhe that dwels Ten leagues beyond mans life: ſhe that from Naples Can haue no note, vnleſſe the Sun were poſt: The Man i'th Moone's too ſlow, till new-borne chinnes Be rough, and Razor-able: She that from whom We all were ſea-ſwallow'd, though ſome caſt againe, (And by that deſtiny) to performe an act Whereof, what's paſt is Prologue; what to come In yours, and my diſcharge.

Seb. What ſtuffe is this? How ſay you? 'Tis true my brothers daughter's Queene of Tunis, So is ſhe heyre of Naples, 'twixt which Regions There is ſome ſpace.

Ant. A ſpace, whoſe eu'ry cubit Seemes to cry out, how ſhall that Claribell Meaſure vs backe to Naples? keepe in Tunis, And let Sebaſtian wake. Say, this were death That now hath ſeiz'd them, why they were no worſe Then now they are: There be that can rule Naples As well as he that ſleepes: Lords, that can prate As amply, and vnneceſſarily As this Gonzallo: I my ſelfe could make A Chough of as deepe chat: O, that you bore The minde that I do; what a ſleepe were this For your aduancement? Do you vnderſtand me?

Seb. Me thinkes I do.

Ant. And how do's your content Tender your owne good fortune?

Seb. I remember You did ſupplant your Brothet Proſpero.

Ant. True: And looke how well my Garments ſit vpon me, Much feater then before: My Brothers ſeruants Were then my fellowes, now they are my men.

Seb. But for your conſcience.

Ant. I Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe 'Twould put me to my ſlipper: But I feele not This Deity in my boſome: 'Twentie conſciences That ſtand 'twixt me, and Millaine, candied be they, And melt ere they molleſt: Heere lies your Brother, No better then the earth he lies vpon, If he were that which now hee's like (that's dead) Whom I with this obedient ſteele (three inches of it) Can lay to bed for euer: whiles you doing thus, To the perpetuall winke for aye might put This ancient morſell: this Sir Prudence, who Should not vpbraid our courſe: for all the reſt They'l take ſuggeſtion, as a Cat laps milke, They'l tell the clocke, to any bufineſſe that We ſay befits the houre.

Seb. Thy caſe, deere Friend Shall be my preſident: As thou got'ſt Millaine, I'le come by Naples: Draw thy ſword, one ſtroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou paieſt, And I the King ſhall loue thee.

Ant. Draw together: And when I reare my hand, do you the like To fall it on Gonzalo.

Seb. O, but one word.

Ariel. My Maſter through his Art foreſees the danger That you (his friend) are in, and ſends me forth (For elſe his proiect dies) to keepe them liuing. Sings in Gonzaloes eare. While you here do ſnoaring lie, Open-ey'd Conſpiracie His time doth take:

If