ANTONIO       Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

GONZALO       No, I warrant you, I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy.

ANTONIO       Go sleep, and hear us.

[All sleep except Alonso, Sebastian and Antonio.]

ALONSO         What, all so soon asleep? I wish mine eyes

Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts. I find

They are inclined to do so.

SEBASTIAN                                        Please you, sir,

Do not omit the heavy offer of it.

It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,

It is a comforter.

ANTONIO                               We two, my lord,

Will guard your person while you take your rest,

And watch your safety.

ALONSO                                 Thank you. Wondrous heavy.

[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel.] (2.1.186-198)

Faux concern from Antonio, perhaps – we’ve only been kidding around, don’t be angry (old man). No fear, says Gonzalo, I wouldn’t waste the energy, risk losing my reason, my composure with you with such pathetic provocation. Don’t worry, boys, you haven’t got to me at all. (Gonzalo, perhaps rather unexpectedly, has pretty much won this encounter.) But now a shift. Will you laugh me asleep, like a lullaby? for I am very heavy, very drowsy. What’s this? presumably the other courtiers are showing signs of this too. Ariel’s doing. Go to sleep then, retorts Antonio, we’ll still be laughing. The stage direction is editorial but clearly implicit: everyone, except the king, Antonio, and Sebastian has suddenly fallen asleep. Alonso first comments that he wishes he could sleep too: if he were to sleep, close his eyes, at least he might have some respite from his thoughts, shut them up like a book or a box, for all he can think of is Ferdinand, missing, presumed drowned. But – amazingly – Alonso is now sleepy too, his eyes inclined to close. Do sleep, says Sebastian, speaking comfortable good sense (although for what reason?) for once: if you feel drowsy, give in to it, don’t fight it (and there’s a double sense of heavy here, meaning sleepy and melancholy). Sleep doesn’t come easily to those who sorrow, but when it does, it is a comforter; it helps. (Macbeth: ‘Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care … Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course’, 2.2.) And don’t worry, says Antonio, we’ll keep watch and see you don’t come to any harm. (Hmmmm.) Wondrous heavy, exhausted and grief-stricken.