SEBASTIAN    Whiles we stood here securing your repose,

Even now we heard a hollow burst of bellowing,

Like bulls, or rather lions. Did’t not wake you?

It struck mine ear most terribly.

ALONSO                                                         I heard nothing.

ANTONIO       O, ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear—

To make an earthquake! Sure it was the roar

Of a whole herd of lions.

ALONSO                                             Heard you this, Gonzalo?

GONZALO       Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,

And that a strange one too, which did awake me.

I shaked you, sir, and cried. As mine eyes opened,

I saw their weapons drawn. There was a noise,

That’s verily. ’Tis best we stand upon our guard,

Or that we quit this place. Let’s draw our weapons.

ALONSO         Lead off this ground, and let’s make further search

For my poor son.

GONZALO                               Heavens keep him from these beasts,

For he is, sure, i’th’ island.

ALONSO                                             Lead away.

ARIEL             Prospero, my lord, shall know what I have done;

So, King, go safely on to seek thy son.          Exeunt. (2.1.311-328)

 

Sebastian is quick to improvise, quicker than Antonio (more cunning?) We were here on guard, securing your repose, so you could sleep in peace and safety (aren’t we good, and self-denying, no naps for us) and then there was this … noise. The improvisation can be frantic – we heard a – hollow burst of – bellowing! that’s it! a really loud, non-specific noise! (because, self-evidently, there isn’t any visible threat – apart from these two men, with drawn swords). Like bulls! or perhaps lions? An early modern audience would be entirely familiar with the bellowing of bulls, not least from the bull-baiting rings on the bankside, adjacent to the Globe; some would have heard lions too, as there were lions in the menagerie at the Tower of London. Bulls are dangerous enough, obviously, but lions are more exotic, and sound even more threatening. I heard nothing, says Alonso, with suspicion. Antonio joins in: it was incredibly loud, a din to fright a monster’s ear (so, really, really frightening and loud), loud enough to make an earthquake! It was surely the roar of a whole herd of lions! Pride, one can imagine Sebastian mouthing, in frustration at Antonio’s over-enthusiasm, lions come in prides – the term was already current. Or perhaps Gonzalo, about to offer a similar pedantic correction. Whatever, it’s comic, Antonio conflating the bulls and the lions, into an implausible herd. Alonso is not convinced: did you hear anything, Gonzalo? This weird sort of humming – Ariel’s music, which woke me. (Nothing about its loudness, or any suggestion of animals.) The humming woke me up and then I straightaway shook you awake and cried out. As mine eyes opened, I saw their weapons drawn. Gonzalo seems to be entirely aware of what’s been going on, sharp and sensible; he’s not going to comment explicitly to Alonso (yet), just allow Antonio and Sebastian to appreciate that he’s got their number and worry about when he’s going to drop them in it with Alonso. There was certainly a noise, that’s verily, that’s true, but… ’Tis best we stand upon our guard or that we quit this place. Let’s draw our weapons. There may well be bulls and lions, lions and tigers and bears – but what is clear as anything is that there are two dangerous men here, with drawn swords, looking guilty as anything. So Alonso and Gonzalo himself, and presumably the now-silent Adrian and Francisco, had better draw too – against the notional bellowing beasts, but even more so that they will outnumber Sebastian and Antonio. Time to move and get away from here, says Alonso, apparently given renewed strength and motivation both by his nap and the possibility of danger: let’s make further search for my poor son. I’m sure he’s somewhere, reassures Gonzalo – and heaven keep him from these beasts – from traitors, like Antonio and Sebastian, who will stop at nothing, it seems, to seize the throne from both Alonso and from Ferdinand, his rightful heir. Lead away – we’re following you, Gonzalo. (I like Gonzalo. He isn’t a bumbler, and he’s not Polonius either. He’s canny as they come.) The last word to Ariel: time to report back to Prospero, and the hope that, immediate danger averted, the king can indeed go on to seek his son. End of scene!