Shakespeare, King Lear, Act4, Scene 6

Come on, sir; here’s the place: stand still.
How fearful
And dizzy ’tis to cast one’s eyes so low!
The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
Show scarce so gross as beetles; half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade!
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head.
The fishermen that walk upon the beach 
Appear like mice, and yond tall anchoring bark
Diminish’d to her cock, her cock a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,
That on the unnumber’d idle pebbles chafes, 
Cannot be heard so high. I’ll look no more, 
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.



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