(no subject)

CALIBAN: Be not afeared. 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 sometimes voices
That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again...

*The thought of sleeping again is much less enticing than it has been lately, and Shakespeare somehow less appealing than the thought of getting up and going home. Even though the attempt to make it out of the room, yesterday morning, left her shaking and sweating and just short of having to crawl back to the bed.

But she's feeling better now, she is. Really.

Cordelia sighs. In an hour or so, maybe, she'll see if she can manage going downstairs.

Enough time to finish reading The Tempest.*