Hip. You beat aside my sword, but let it come As near as yours, and you shall see my skill.
Ferd. You faint for loss of blood, I see you stagger; Pray, sir, retire.
Hip. No! I will ne'er go back.— Methinks the cave turns round, I cannot find—
Ferd. Your eyes begin to dazzle.
Hip. Why do you swim so, and dance about me? Stand but still till I have made one thrust. [Hip. thrusts and falls.
Ferd. O help, help, help! Unhappy man! what have I done?
Hip. I'm going to a cold sleep, but when I wake, I'll fight again. Pray stay for me. [Swoons.
Ferd. He's gone! He's gone! O stay, sweet, lovely youth! Help! help!
Enter Prospero.
Prosp. What dismal noise is that?