Ferdinand monologue — A motley jest : $b Shakespearean diversions

O, my Miranda, sure some power we wot Not of doth play with us as we at chess Do move the pieces this way first and that, Because our will is to’t. Know then that I Did dream the fellow unto yours (if it In very truth were that and nothing more). Like you, I vis’ted that sweet spot, with you Beside the while, and did behold, as on A stage a company of players strut Their hour or two, a band of merry folk With some that wept and cried out upon fate. Who knoweth, my Miranda, what doth hap To us when we do sleep? At whiles we note In slumber tokens of a life apart From this, alike, yet not alike, and who May say how far the spirit wanders when The body sleeps?