what a sleep were this For your advancement!

MIR. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more; use your authority: if you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap.

Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of.

FER. Sir, she is mortal; But by immortal Providence she ’s mine:

misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows.

CAL. Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop

If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it!

MIR. I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.