The Tempest

Sebastian: He receives comfort like cold porridge. The visitor will not give him o’er so.
Gonzala: Here is everything advantageous to life. True; save means to live.
Gonzala: How lush and lusty the grass looks! How green! The ground is indeed tawny.
Sebastian: With an eye of green in it. She misses not much.
Sebastian: Foul weather? Very foul.
Sebastian: God save her majesty! Long live Gonzala!
Gonzala: I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these courtiers, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing. ‘Twas you we laughed at.
Gonzala: Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you may continue and laugh at nothing still. What a blow was given there! Nay, good lady, be not angry.
Gonzala: No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy? Go sleep, and hear us.
Sebastian: Please you, sir, do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, it is a comforter. We two, my lord, will guard your person while you take your rest, and watch your safety.
What a strange drowsiness possess them! It is the quality o’ the climate.
Why doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not myself disposed to sleep. Nor I; my spirits are nimble. 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.
What, art thou waking? Do you not hear me speak?
I do; and surely it is a sleepy language and thou speak’st out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? Noble Sebastian, thou let’st thy fortune sleep–die, rather; wink’st whiles thou art waking.
Thou dost snore distinctly; there’s meaning in thy snores. Thus, sir: although this dame of weak remembrance, this, who shall be of as little memory when she is earth’d, hath here almost persuade–professes to persuade,–the king his son’s alive. ‘Tis as impossible that he’s undrown’d and he that sleeps here swims.
I have no hope that he is undrown’d. O, out of that ‘no hope’ what great hope have you! Will you grant with me Ferdinand is drown’d?
He’s gone. Then, tell me, who’s the next heir of Naples?
Claribel. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells ten leagues beyond man’s life.
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 distance. O, would that you bore the mind that I do! What a sleep were this for your advancement! Do you understand me?
Methinks I do. And how does your content tender your own good fortune?
I remember you did supplant your brother Prospero. 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.
But, for your conscience? Ay, sir; where lies that? Here lies your brother, whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it, can lay to bed forever; whiles you, doing thus, this ancient morsel, this Miss Prudence, who should not upbraid our course.
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 payest; and I the king shall love thee. Draw together; and when I rear my hand, do you the like, to fall it on Gonzala.
ARIEL: 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. Then let us both be sudden.
ALONSO: I heard nothing. 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.

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