Page:MU KPB 012 The Tempest - Illustrated by Rackham.pdf/93

Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post—
The man i’ the moon’s too slow—till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable; she that—from whom?
We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again,
And by that destiny to perform an act
Whereof what ’s past is prologue, what to come
In yours and my discharge.

Sebastian.

In yours and my discharge. ‍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 space.

Antonio.

There is some space. ‍A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, “How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake.” Say, this were death
That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse
Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate
As amply and unnecessarily
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?

Sebastian.

Methinks I do.

Antonio.

Methinks I do. ‍And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?