ALONSO.
Thank you. Wondrous heavy!
[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel.]
SEBASTIAN.
What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
ANTONIO.
It is the quality o’ th’ climate.
SEBASTIAN.
Why
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself dispos’d 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 methinks I see it in thy face,
What thou shouldst be. Th’ 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.