Tell not me. When the butt is out, we will drink water,
not a drop before. Therefore bear up and board ‘em. (III.ii.)
Why, as I told thee, ’tis a custom with him
I’ th’ afternoon to sleep. There thou mayst brain him
Having first seized his books, or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his weasand with thy knife. Remember
First to possess his books, for without them
He’s but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command. (III.ii.)
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 sometime 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 upon me, that when I waked
I cried to dream again. (III.ii.)