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. Halfway down 
     Hangs one that gathers sampire—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 th’ unnumb’red idle pebbles chafes, 
     Cannot be heard so high. I’ll look no more, 
     Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 
     Topple down headlong.

What Shakespeare does here is to place five flat panels of two-