Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Seb. What a strange drowsines possesses them?
Ant. Ant.
Ant. It is the quality o'th'Clymate.
Seb. Seb.
Seb. Why
Seb. Doth it not then our eye‑lids sinke? I finde
Seb. Not my selfe dispos'd to sleep.
Ant. Nor I, my spirits are nimble:
Ant. They fell together all, as by consent
Ant. They dropt, as by a Thunder‑stroke: what might
Ant. Worthy Sebastian? O, what might? no more:
Ant. And yet, me thinkes I see it in thy face,
Ant. What thou should'st be: th'occasion speaks thee, and
Ant. My strong imagination see's a Crowne
Ant. Dropping vpon thy head.
Seb. What? art thou waking?
Ant. Do you not heare me speake?