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alonso: |
prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. |
gonzalo: |
i do well believe your highness: and |
did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, |
who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that |
they always use to laugh at nothing. |
antonio: |
'twas you we laughed at. |
gonzalo: |
who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing |
to you: so you may continue and laugh at |
nothing still. |
antonio: |
what a blow was there given! |
sebastian: |
an it had not fallen flat-long. |
gonzalo: |
you are gentlemen of brave metal: you would lift |
the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue |
in it five weeks without changing. |
sebastian: |
we would so, and then go a bat-fowling. |
antonio: |
nay, good my lord, be not angry. |
gonzalo: |
no, i warrant you: i will not adventure |
my discretion so weakly. will you laugh |
me asleep, for i am very heavy? |
antonio: |
go sleep, and hear us. |
alonso: |
what, all so soon asleep! i wish mine eyes |
would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: i find |
they are inclined to do so. |
sebastian: |
please you, sir, |
do not omit the heavy offer of it: |
it seldom visits sorrow: when it doth, |
it is a comforter. |
antonio: |
we two, my lord, |
will guard your person while you take your rest, |
and watch your safety. |
alonso: |
thank you. wondrous heavy. |
sebastian: |
what a strange drowsiness possesses them! |
antonio: |
it is the quality o' the climate. |
sebastian: |
why |
doth it not then our eyelids sink? i find not |
myself disposed to sleep. |
antonio: |
nor i: my spirits are nimble. |
they fell together all, as by consent: |
they dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. what might, |
worthy sebastian? o, what might?--no more:-- |
and yet me thinks i see it in thy face, |
what thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and |
my strong imagination sees a crown |
dropping upon thy head. |
sebastian: |
what, art thou waking? |
antonio: |
do you not hear me speak? |
sebastian: |
i do: and surely |
it is a sleepy language and thou speak'st |
out of thy sleep. what is it thou didst say? |
this is a strange repose, to be asleep |
with eyes wide open: standing, speaking, moving, |
and yet so fast asleep. |
antonio: |
noble sebastian, |
thou let'st thy fortune sleep--die, rather: wink'st |
whiles thou art waking. |