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 so 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?
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?