The Tempest[ Dramatis Persons ]
¶ALONSO, king of Naples. Master of a Ship.SEBASTIAN, his brother. Boatswain.PROSPERO, the right duke of Milan. Mariners.ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping dukeof Milan. MIRANDA, daughter to Prospero.FERDINAND, son to the king of Naples.GONZALO, an honest old Counsellor. ARIEL, an airy Spirit.
Adrian, |., Iris,
¶„ Y Lords.
Francisco, ) Ceres,
¶CALIBAN, a savage and deformed Slave. JUNO, f-Spirits.TRINCULO, a Jester. Nymphs ,STEPHANO, a drunken Buder. Reapers,
¶[Other Spirits attending on Prospero]
Scene: [a Ship at Sea;] an Uninhabited IslandAct I
¶SCENE I. [On a ship at sea:] a tempestuous noise of thunder and
lightning heardEnter a Ship-Master and a Boatswain
¶Master
T p \ O AT SWAIN!
¶m-^L Boats. Here, master; what cheer?
¶1 9 Mast. Good; speak to the mariners. Fall to't, yarely, 1 or > run ourselves aground. Bestir, bestir. Ex
Enter Mariners
¶Boats. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, 1 yai Take in the topsail. Tend to the master's whisde.—Blow till th< burst thy wind, if room [398]enough! Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO , FERDINAND, GONZALO, and others
p. 398¶Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master ? Play the men.
¶Boats. I pray now, keep below.
¶Ant. Where is the master, boatswain?
¶Boats. Do you not hear him? You mar our labour. Keep your cabins; you do assist the storm.
¶Gon. Nay, good, be patient.
¶Boats. When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers for the name of king? To cabin! silence! trouble us not.
¶Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.
¶Boats. None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more; use your authority. If you cannot, give thanks you have liv'd so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap.—Cheerly, good hearts!—Out of our way, I say. Exit.
¶Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow. Methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging; make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage. If he be not born to be hang'd, our case is miserable. Exeunt.
¶Re-enter Boatswain
¶Boats. Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring her to try1 wi' the main-course. A plague A cry within.
Enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO
¶upon this howling! They are louder than the weather or our office. —Yet again! What do you here? Shall we give o'er and drown? Have you a mind to sink ?
¶Seb. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
¶Boats. Work you, then.
p. 399¶Ant. Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker! Weare less afraid to be drown'd than thou art.Gon. I'll warrant him for drowning though the ship were nostronger than a nut-shell and as leaky as an unstanched wench.Boats. Lay her a-hold, 3 a-hold! Set her two courses 4 off to seaagain! Lay her off.
¶Enter Mariners wetMariners. All lost! To prayers, to prayers! All lost!Boats. What, must our mouths be cold?Gon. The King and Prince at prayers! Let's assist them,For our case is as theirs.Seb. I'm out of patience.Ant. We are merely 5 cheated of our lives by drunkards.This wide-chapp'd rascal—would thou mightst lie drowningThe washing of ten tides!Gon. He'll be hang'd yet,Though every drop of water swear against itAnd gape at wid'st to glut him. A confused noise within.Mercy on us!We split, we split! Farewell, my wife and children!Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we split!Ant. Let's all sink wi' the King.Seb. Let's take leave of him. Exit.Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre ofbarren ground, long heath, brown furze, anything. The wills abovebe done! but I would fain die a dry death. Exeunt.
¶SCENE II. [The island. Before Prospero's cell]
¶Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA
¶Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, you havePut the wild waters in this roar, allay them.The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered[400]With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel,Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,Dash'd all to pieces! O, the cry did knockAgainst my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd.Had I been any god of power, I wouldHave sunk the sea within the earth or ereIt should the good ship so have swallow'd andThe fraughting1 souls within her.Pros. Be collected;No more amazement. Tell your piteous heartThere's no harm done.Mir. O, woe the day!Pros. No harm.I have done nothing but in care of thee,Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, whoArt ignorant of what thou art, nought knowingOf whence I am, nor that I am more betterThan Prospero, master of a full poor cell,And thy no greater father.Mir. More to knowDid never meddle with my thoughts.Pros. 'Tis timeI should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,And pluck my magic garment from me. So,[Lays down his mantle.]Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'dThe very virtue of compassion in thee,I have with such provision in mine artSo safely ordered that there is no soul—No, not so much perdition as an hairBetid to any creature in the vesselWhich thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down;For thou must now know farther.Mir. You have oftenBegun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd[401]And left me to a bootless inquisition,Concluding, "Stay, not yet."Pros. The hour's now come;The very minute bids thee ope thine ear.Obey and be attentive. Canst thou rememberA time before we came unto this cell ?I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast notOut three years old.Mir. Certainly, sir, 1 can.Pros. By what? By any other house or person?Of anything the image tell me, thatHath kept with thy remembrance.Mir. 'Tis far offAnd rather like a dream than an assuranceThat my remembrance warrants. Had I notFour or five women once that tended me?Pros. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is itThat this lives in thy mind ? What seest thou elseIn the dark backward and abysm 2 of time ?If thou rememb'rest aught ere thou cam'st here,How thou cam'st here thou may'st.Mir. But that I do not.Pros. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,Thy father was the Duke of Milan andA prince of power.Mir. Sir, are not you my father?Pros. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, andShe said thou wast my daughter; and thy fatherWas Duke of Milan, and his only heirAnd princess no worse issued.Mir. O the heavens!What foul play had we, that we came from thence ?Or blessed was't we did?Pros. Both, both, my girl.By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence,But blessedly holp hither.[402]Mir. O, my heart bleedsTo think o' the teen 3 that I have turn'd you to,Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.Pros. My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio—I pray thee, mark me—that a brother shouldBe so perfidious!—he whom next thyselfOf all the world I lov'd, and to him putThe manage 4 of my state; as at that timeThrough all the signories 5 it was the first,And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputedIn dignity, and for the liberal artsWithout a parallel; those being all my study,The government I cast upon my brotherAnd to my state grew stranger, being transportedAnd rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle—Dost thou attend me?Mir. Sir, most heedfully.Pros. Being once perfected how to grant suits,How to deny them, who to advance and whoTo trash for overtopping, 6 new createdThe creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em,Or else new form'd 'em; having both the keyOf officer and office, set all hearts i' the stateTo what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he wasThe ivy which had hid my princely trunk,And suck'd my verdure out on ' t . Thou attend'st not.Mir. O, good sir, I do.Pros. I pray thee, mark me.I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicatedTo closeness 7 and the bettering of my mindWith that which, but by being so retir'd,O'er-priz'd all popular rate, 8 in my false brotherAwak'd an evil nature; and my trust,Like a good parent, did beget of himA falsehood, in its contrary as great[403]As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,A confidence sans 9 bound. He being thus lorded,Not only with what my revenue yielded,But what my power might else exact,—like oneWho having into truth, by telling of it,Made such a sinner of his memoryTo credit his own lie,—he did believeHe was indeed the Duke. Out o' the substitution, 1 0And executing the outward face of royalty,With all prerogative, hence his ambition growing—Dost thou hear?Mir. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.Pros. To have no screen between this part he play'dAnd him he play'd it for, he needs will beAbsolute Milan. Me, poor man!—my libraryWas dukedom large enough—of temporal royaltiesHe thinks me now incapable; confederates—So dry 1 1 he was for sway—wi' the King of NaplesTo give him annual tribute, do him homage,Subject his coronet to his crown, and bendThe dukedom yet unbow'd—alas, poor Milan!—To most ignoble stooping.Mir. O the heavens!Pros. Mark his condition and the event, then tell meIf this might be a brother.Mir. I should sinTo think but nobly of my grandmother.Good wombs have borne bad sons.Pros. Now the condition.This King of Naples, being an enemyTo me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises 1 2Of homage and I know not how much tribute,Should presently extirpate me and mineOut of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan[404]With all the honours on my brother; whereon,A treacherous army levied, one midnightFated to the purpose did Antonio openThe gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness,The ministers for the purpose hurried thenceMe and thy crying self.Mir. Alack, for pity!I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then,Will cry it o'er again. It is a hint 1 3That wrings mine eyes to't.Pros. Hear a little further,And then I'll bring thee to the present businessWhich now's upon's, without the which this storyWere most impertinent. 1 4Mir. Wherefore did they notThat hour destroy us?Pros. Well demanded, wench;My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not(So dear the love my people bore me) setA mark so bloody on the business; butWith colours fairer painted their foul ends.In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,Bore us some leagues to sea; where they preparedA rotten carcass of a butt, 1 5 not rigg'd,Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very ratsInstinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,To cry to the sea that roar'd to us, to sighTo the winds whose pity, sighing back again,Did us but loving wrong.Mir. Alack, what troubleWas I then to you!Pros. O, a cherubinThou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile,Infused with a fortitude from heaven,When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me[405]An undergoing 1 6 stomach, to bear upAgainst what should ensue.Mir. How came we ashore ?Pros. By Providence divine.Some food we had and some fresh water thatA noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,Out of his charity, who being then appointedMaster of this design, did give us, withRich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,Which since have steaded much; 1 7 so, of his gentleness,Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd meFrom mine own library with volumes thatI prize above my dukedom.Mir. Would I mightBut ever see that man!Pros. Now I arise. [Puts on his robe.]Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.Here in this island we arriv'd; and hereHave I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profitThan other princess can that have more timeFor vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.Mir. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir,For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reasonFor raising this sea-storm ?Pros. Know thus far forth.By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,Now my dear lady, hath mine enemiesBrought to this shore; and by my prescienceI find my zenith 1 8 doth depend uponA most auspicious star, whose influenceIf now I court not but omit, my fortunesWill ever after droop. Here cease more questions.Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,And give it way. I know thou canst not choose. [MIRANDA sleeps.]Come away, servant, come; I am ready now.Approach, my Ariel; come.[406]Enter ARIELAri. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I comeTo answer thy best pleasure, be ' t to fly,To swim, to dive into the fire, to rideOn the curl'd clouds. To thy strong bidding taskAriel and all his quality. 1 9Pros. Hast thou, spirit,Perform'd to point 2 0 the tempest that I bade thee?Ari. To every article.I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,I flam'd amazement. Sometime I'd divide,And burn in many places. On the topmast,The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursorsO' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentaryAnd sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracksOf sulphurous roaring the most mighty NeptuneSeem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,Yea, his dread trident shake.Pros. My brave spirit!Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil 2 1Would not infect his reason ?Ari. Not a soulBut felt a fever of the mad, and play'dSome tricks of desperation. All but marinersPlung'd in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,Then all afire with me. The King's son, Ferdinand,With hair up-staring,—then like reeds, not hair,—Was the first man that leap'd; cried, "Hell is empty,And all the devils are here."Pros. Why, that's my spirit!But was not this nigh shore?Ari. Close by, my master.[407]Pros. But are they, Ariel, safe?Art. Not a hair perish'd;On their sustaining garments not a blemish,But fresher than before; and, as thou bad'st me,In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle.The King's son have I landed by himself,Whom I left cooling of the air with sighsIn an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,His arms in this sad knot.Pros. Of the King's shipThe mariners say how thou hast dispos'd,And all the rest o' the fleet.Art. Safely in harbourIs the King's ship; in the deep nook, where onceThou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dewFrom the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid;The mariners all under hatches stow'd,Who, with a charm join'd to their suff'red labour,I have left asleep; and for the rest o' the fleet,Which I dispers'd, they all have met again,And are upon the Mediterranean float 22Bound sadly home for Naples,Supposing that they saw the King's ship wreck'dAnd his great person perish.Pros. Ariel, thy chargeExactly is perform'd; but there's more work.What is the time o' the day ?Art. Past the mid season.Pros. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and nowMust by us both be spent most preciously.Art. Is there more toil ? Since thou dost give me pains,Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,Which is not yet perform'd me.Pros. How now? moody?What is ' t thou canst demand?Art. My liberty.[408]Pros. Before the time be out? No more!Ari. I prithee,Remember I have done thee worthy service,Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'dWithout or grudge or grumblings. Thou did promiseTo bate 2 3 me a full year.Pros. Dost thou forgetFrom what a torment I did free thee ?Ari. No .Pros. Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the oozeOf the salt deep,To run upon the sharp wind of the north,To dome business in the veins o' the earthWhen it is bak'd with frost.Ari. I do not, sir.Pros. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgotThe foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envyWas grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her?Ari. No , sir.Pros. Thou hast. Where was she born? Speak; tell me.Ari. Sir, in Argier. 2 4Pros. O, was she so? I mustOnce in a month recount what thou hast been,Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terribleTo enter human hearing, from Argier,Thou know'st, was banish'd; for one thing she didThey would not take her life. Is not this true?Ari. Ay , sir.Pros. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,As thou report'st thyself, was then her servant;And, for thou wast a spirit too delicateTo act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,Refusing her grand hests, 2 5 she did confine thee,By help of her more potent ministers[409]And in her most immitigable rage,Into a cloven pine; within which riftImprison'd thou didst painfully remainA dozen years; within which space she diedAnd left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groansAs fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island—Save for the son that she did litter here,A freckl'd whelp, hag-born,—not honour'd withA human shape.Ari. Yes, Caliban her son.Pros. Dull thing, I say so; he, that CalibanWhom now I keep in service. Thou best know'stWhat torment I did find thee in; thy groansDid make wolves howl, and penetrate the breastsOf ever angry bears. It was a tormentTo lay upon the damn'd, which SycoraxCould not again undo. It was mine art,When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gapeThe pine, and let thee out.Ari. I thank thee, master.Pros. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oakAnd peg thee in his knotty entrails tillThou hast howl'd away twelve winters.Ari. Pardon, master;I will be correspondent1 6 to commandAnd do my spiriting gently.Pros. Do so, and after two daysI will discharge thee.Ari. That's my noble master!What shall I do ? say what. What shall I do ?Pros. Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea; be SubjectTo no sight but thine and mine, invisibleTo every eyeball else. Go take this shapeAnd hither come in't. Go, hence with diligence! Exit ARIEL.Awake, dear heart, awake! Thou hast slept well;Awake![410]Mir. The strangeness of your story putHeaviness in me.Pros. Shake it off. Come on,We'll visit Caliban my slave, who neverYields us kind answer.Mir. 'Tis a villain, sir,I do not love to look on.Pros. But, as 'tis,We cannot miss him. He does make our fire,Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices;That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!Thou earth, thou! speak.Cal. (Within.) There's wood enough within.Pros. Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee.Come, thou tortoise! when?
¶Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,Hark in thine ear.Ari. My lord, it shall be done. Exit.Pros. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himselfUpon thy wicked dam, come forth!
¶Enter CALIBAN
¶Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'dWith raven's feather from unwholesome fenDrop on you both! A south-west blow on yeAnd blister you all o'er!Pros. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins 2 7Shall, for that vast 2 8 of night that they may work,All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'dAs thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stingingThan bees that made 'em.[411]Cal. I must eat my dinner.This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st firstThou strok'dst me and made much of me, wouldst give meWater with berries in't, and teach me howTo name the bigger light, and how the less,That burn by day and night; and then I lov'd theeAnd show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.Curs'd be I that did so! All the charmsOf Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!For I am all the subjects that you have,Which first was mine own king; and here you sty meIn this hard rock, whiles you do keep from meThe rest o' the island.Pros. Thou most lying slave,Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have us'd thee,Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodg'd theeIn mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violateThe honour of my child.Cal. O ho, O ho! would't had been done!Thou didst prevent me; I had peopl'd elseThis isle with Calibans.[Proj 1.] Abhorred slave,Which any print of goodness wilt not take,Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hourOne thing or other. When thou didst not, savage,Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble likeA thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposesWith words that made them known. But thy vile race,Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good naturesCould not abide to be with; therefore wast thouDeservedly confin'd into this rock,Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison.Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on ' t[412]Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid youFor learning me your language!Pros. Hag-seed, hence!Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou 'rt best,To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?If thou neglect'st or dost unwillinglyWhat I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps,Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roarThat beasts shall tremble at thy din.Cal. No , pray thee.[Aside.] I must obey. His art is of such powerIt would control my dam's god, Setebos,And make a vassal of him.Pros. So, slave; hence! Exit CALIBAN
Ariel's Song
¶Come unto these yellow sands,And then take hands.Curtsied when you have, and kiss'dThe wild waves whist, 2 9Foot it featly 3 0 here and there,And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.Burden (dispersedly). Hark, hark!Bow-wow.The watch-dogs bark!Bow-wow.Ari. Hark, hark! I hearThe strain of strutting chanticleerCry, "Cock-a-diddle-dow."
¶Fer. Where should this music be? I' the air or the earth?It sounds no more; and, sure, it waits uponSome god o' the island. Sitting on a bank,[413]Weeping again the King my father's wreck,This music crept by me upon the waters,Allaying both their fury and my passionWith its sweet air; thence I have follow'd it,Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.No, it begins again.
Ariel's Song
¶Full fathom five thy father lies;Of his bones are coral made;Those are pearls that were his eyes:Nothing of him that doth fadeBut doth suffer a sea-changeInto something rich and strange.Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:Burden. Ding-dong.[Ari.] Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong, bell.
¶Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father.This is no mortal business, nor no soundThat the earth owes. I hear it now above me.Pros. The fringed curtains of thine eye advanceAnd say what thou seest yond.Mir. What is 't? A spirit?Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.Pros. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such sensesAs we have, such. This gallant which thou seestWas in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'dWith grief, that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call himA goodly person. He hath lost his fellowsAnd strays about to find 'em.Mir. I might call himA thing divine; for nothing naturalI ever saw so noble.Pros. [Aside.] It goes on, I see,As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free theeWithin two days for this.[414]Fer. Most sure, the goddessOn whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayerMay know if you remain upon this island,And that you will some good instruction giveHow I may bear me here. My prime request,Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!If you be maid or no?Mir. No wonder, sir,But certainly a maid.Fer. My language! heavens!I am the best of them that speak this speech,Were I but where 'tis spoken.Pros. How ? the best?What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee ?Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wondersTo hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;And that he does I weep. Myself am Naples,Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheldThe King my father wreck'd.Mir. Alack, for mercy!Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of MilanAnd his brave son being twain.Pros. [Aside.] The Duke of MilanAnd his more braver daughter could control thee,If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sightThey have chang'd eyes. Delicate Ariel,I'll set thee free for this. [To FER.] A word, good sir;I fear you have done yourself some wrong; a word.Mir. Why speaks my father so ungently ? ThisIs the third man that e'er I saw, the firstThat e'er I sigh'd for. Pity move my fatherTo be inclin'd my way!Fer. O, if a virgin,And your affection not gone forth, I'll make youThe Queen of Naples.Pros. Soft, sir! one word more.[Aside.] They are both in either's powers; but this swift business[415]I must uneasy make, lest too light winningMake the prize light. [To FER.] One word more; I charge theeThat thou attend me. Thou dost here usurpThe name thou ow'st not; and hast put thyselfUpon this island as a spy, to win itFrom me, the lord on't.Fer. No , asIa m a man.Mir. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.If the ill spirit have so fair a house,Good things will strive to dwell with't.Pros. Follow me.Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come,I'll manacle thy neck and feet together.Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall beThe fresh-brook mussels, wither'd roots and husksWherein the acorn cradled. Follow.Fer. No ;I will resist such entertainment tillMine enemy has more power.He draws, and is charmed from moving.Mir. O dear father,Make not too rash a trial of him, forHe's gentle and not fearful.1 1Pros. What! I say;My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor,Who mak'st a show but dar'st not strike, thy conscienceIs so possess'd with guilt. Come from thy ward,For I can here disarm thee with this stickAnd make thy weapon drop.Mir. Beseech you, father.Pros. Hence! hang not on my garments.Mir. Sir, have pity.I'll be his surety.Pros. Silence! one word moreShall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!An advocate for an impostor! hush![416]Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,Having seen but him and Caliban. Foolish wench!To the most of men this is a Caliban,And they to him are angels.Mir. My affectionsAre then most humble; I have no ambitionTo see a goodlier man.Pros. Come on; obey.Thy nerves1 2 are in their infancy againAnd have no vigour in them.Fer. So they are.My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats,To whom I am subdu'd, are but light to me,Might I but through my prison once a dayBehold this maid. All corners else o' the earthLet liberty make use of; space enoughHave I in such a prison.Pros. [Aside.] It works. [7'OFER.] Come on.—Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To FER.] Follow me.[To ARI.] Hark what thou else shalt do me.Mir. Be of comfort;My father's of a better nature, sir,Than he appears by speech. This is unwontedWhich now came from him.Pros. [To ARI.] Thou shalt be as freeAs mountain winds; but then exactly doAll points of my command.Ari. To the syllable.Pros. [To Mm. and FER.] Come, follow. Speak not for him.Exeunt.
Act II
¶SCENE I. [Another part of the island]
Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN,
¶FRANCISCO, and othersGon. Beseech you sir, be merry; you have.cause,So have we all, of joy; for our escapeIs much beyond our loss. Our hint 1 of woeIs common; every day some sailor's wife,The masters of some merchant, and the merchantHave just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,I mean our preservation, few in millionsCan speak like us. Then wisely, good sir, weighOur sorrow with our comfort.Alon. Prithee, peace.Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it willstrike.Gon. Sir,—Seb. One. Tell. 2Gon. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd,Comes to the entertainer—Seb. A dollar.Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer thanyou purpos'd.Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.Gon. Therefore, my lord,—Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!Alon. I prithee, spare.Gon. Well, I have done. But yet,—Seb. He will be talking.Ant. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first beginsto crow ?Seb. The old cock.[418]Ant. The cockerel.Seb. Done. The wager ?Ant. A laughter.Seb. A match!Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,—Seb. Ha, ha, ha! Antonio! So you're paid.Adr. Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,—Seb. Yet —Adr. Yet,—Ant. He could not miss't.Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance. 8Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.Seb. Ay , and a subtle; as he most learnedly deliver'd.Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.Seb. As if it had lungs and rotten ones.Ant. Or as 'twere perfum'd by a fen.Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life.Ant. True; save means to live.Seb. Of that there's none, or little.Gon. How lush 4 and lusty the grass looks! How green!Ant. The ground indeed is tawny.Seb. With an eye of green in't.Ant. He misses not much.Seb. No ; he doth but mistake the truth totally.Gon. But the rarity of it is,—which is indeed almost beyondcredit,—Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are.Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drench'd in the sea,hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dy'd than stain'd with salt water.Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say helies?Seb. Ay , or very falsely pocket up his report.Gon. Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we putthem on first in Afric, at the marriage of the King's fair daughterClaribel to the King of Tunis.[419]Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.Adr. Tunis was never grac'd before with such a paragon to theirqueen.Gon. Not since widow Dido's time.Ant. Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow in? WidowDido!Seb. What if he had said "widower iEneas" too? Good Lord, howyou take it!Adr. "Widow Dido" said you ? You make me study of that. Shewas of Carthage, not of Tunis.Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.A dr. Carthage?Gon. I assure you, Carthage.Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp.Seb. He hath rais'd the wall and houses too.Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next ?Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket and giveit his son for an apple.Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth moreislands.Gon. Ay .Ant. Why, in good time.Gon. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh aswhen we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who isnow Queen.Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.Seb. Bate, 51 beseech you, widow Dido.Ant. O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? Imean, in a sort.Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?Alon. You cram these words into mine ears againstThe stomach of my sense. 6 Would I had neverMarried my daughter there! for, coming thence,My son is lost and, in my rate, 7 she too,
p. 419¶' Except . 6 My inclination to hear. ' Opinion .[420]Who is so far from Italy removedI ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heirOf Naples and of Milan, what strange fishHath made his meal on thee?Fran. Sir, he may live.I saw him beat the surges under him,And ride upon their backs. He trod the water,Whose enmity he flung aside, and breastedThe surge most swoln that met him. His bold head'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oaredHimself with his good arms in lusty strokeTo the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed,As stooping to relieve him. I not doubtHe came alive to land.Alon. No , no, he's gone.Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,But rather lose her to an African;Where she at least is banish'd from your eye,Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.Alon. Prithee, peace.Seb. You were kneel'd to and importun'd otherwiseBy all of us, and the fair soul herselfWeigh'd between loathness and obedience, atWhich end o' the beam should bow. We have lost yourI fear, for ever. Milan and Naples haveMoe 8 widows in them of this business' makingThan we bring men to comfort them.The fault's your own.Alon. So is the dear'st o' the loss.Gon. My lord Sebastian,The truth you speak doth lack some gentlenessAnd time to speak it in. You rub the sore,When you should bring the plaster.Seb. Very well.Ant. And most chirurgeonly. 9[421]Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,When you are cloudy.Seb. Foul weather ?Ant. Very foul.Gon. Had I plantation 1 0 of this isle, my lord,—Ant. He'd sow't with nettle-seed.Seb. Or docks, or mallows.Gon. And were the king on't, what would I do ?Seb. Scape being drunk for want of wine.Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by contrariesExecute all things; for no kind of trafficWould I admit; no name of magistrate;Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,And use of service, none; contract, succession,Bourn, 1 1 bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;No occupation; all men idle, all;And women too, but innocent and pure;No sovereignty;—Seb. Yet he would be king on't.Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.Gon. All things in common nature should produceWithout sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, 1 2Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,Of it own kind, all foison, 1 3 all abundance,To feed my innocent people.Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir,To excel the golden age.Seb. Save his Majesty!Ant. Long live Gonzalo!Gon. And,—do you mark me, sir?Alon. Prithee, no more; thou dost talk nothing to me.Gon. I do well believe your Highness; and did it to minister occa-[422]sion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungsthat they always use to laugh at nothing.Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.Gon. Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you. Soyou may continue and laugh at nothing still.Ant. What a blow was there given!Seb. An it had not fallen flatlong. 14Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moonout of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks withoutchanging.
p. 422¶Enter ARIEL [invisible], playing solemn musicSeb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.Gon. No , I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion soweakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy ?Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.[All sleep except ALON., SEB., and ANT . ]Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyesWould, with themselves, shut up my thoughts. I findThey are inclin'd to do so.Seb. Please you, sir,Do not omit the heavy offer of it.It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,It is a comforter.Ant. We two, my lord,Will guard your person while you take your rest,And watch your safety.Alon. Thank you. Wondrous heavy.[ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL.]Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.Seb. WhyDoth it not then our eyelids sink? I find notMyself dispos'd to sleep.Ant. Nor I; my spirits are nimble.[423]They fell together all, as by consent;They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,Worthy Sebastian, O, what might—? No more:—And yet methinks I see it in thy face,What thou shouldst be. The occasion speaks thee, andMy strong imagination sees a crownDropping upon thy head.Seb. What, art thou waking?Ant. Do you not hear me speak ?Seb. I do; and surelyIt is a sleepy language, and thou speak'stOut of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say ?This is a strange repose, to be asleepWith eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,And yet so fast asleep.Ant. Noble Sebastian,Thou let'st thy fortune sleep—die, rather; wink'stWhiles thou art waking.Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly;There's meaning in thy snores.Ant. I am more serious than my custom; youMust be so too, if heed me; which to doTrebles thee o'er.Seb. Well, I am standing water. 1 5Ant. I'll teach you how to flow.Seb. Do so. To ebbHereditary sloth instructs me.Ant. O,If you but knew how you the purpose cherishWhiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,Most often do so near the bottom runBy their own fear or sloth.Seb. Prithee, say on.The setting 1 6 of thine eye and cheek proclaimA matter from thee, and a birth indeed[424]Which throes thee much to yield.Ant. Thus, sir:Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,Who shall be of as little memory 1 7When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuaded—For he's a spirit of persuasion, onlyProfesses to persuade—the King his son's alive,'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'dAs he that sleeps here swims.Seb. I have no hopeThat he's undrown'd.Ant. O, out of that no hopeWhat great hope have you! No hope that way isAnother way so high a hope that evenAmbition cannot pierce a wink beyond,But doubt discovery there. 1 8 Will you grant with meThat Ferdinand is drown'd ?Seb. He's gone.Ant. Then, tell me,Who's the next heir of Naples ?Seb. Claribel.Ant. She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwellsTen leagues beyond man's life; she that from NaplesCan have no note, unless the sun were post—The man i' the moon's too slow—till new-born chinsBe rough and razorable; she that—from whomWe all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again,And by that destiny to perform an actWhereof what's past is prologue, what to comeIn yours and my discharge.Seb. What stuff is this! How say you?'Tis true, my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis;So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regionsThere is some space.Ant. A space whose every cubitSeems to cry out, " How shall that Claribel
p. 424¶a As little remembered. 1 8 Whether there is anything higher to be seen.[425]Measure us back to Naples ? Keep in Tunis,And let Sebastian wake." Say, this were deathThat now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no worseThan now they are. There be that can rule NaplesAs well as he that sleeps; lords that can prateAs amply and unnecessarilyAs this Gonzalo; I myself could makeA chough of as deep chat. 1 9 O, that you boreThe mind that I do! what a sleep were thisFor your advancement! Do you understand me?Seb. Methinks I do.Ant. And how does your content 2 0Tender 2 1 your own good fortune?Seb. I rememberYou did supplant your brother Prospero.Ant. True.And look how well my garments sit upon me;Much feater 2 2 than before. My brother's servantsWere then my fellows; now they are my men.Seb. But, for your conscience?Ant. Ay , sir, where lies that? If 'twere a kibe, 2 3'Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel notThis deity in my bosom. Twenty consciences,That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be theyAnd melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother,No better than the earth he lies uponIf he were that which now he's like, that's dead;Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,To the perpetual wink for aye might putThis ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, whoShould not upbraid our course. For all the rest,They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;They'll tell the clock to any business thatWe say befits the hour.[426]Seb. Thy case, dear friend,Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan,I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword. One strokeShall free thee from the tribute which thou payest,And I the King shall love thee.Ant. Draw together;And when I rear my hand, do you the like,To fall it on Gonzalo.Seb. O, but one word. [They tal\ apart.]
p. 426¶Re-enter ARIEL [invisible], with music and songAri. My master through his art foresees the dangerThat you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth—For else his project dies—to keep them living.Sings in GONZALO'S ear.
¶While you here do snoring lie,Open-ey'd ConspiracyHis time doth take.If of life you keep a care,Shake off slumber, and beware;Awake, awake!
¶Ant. Then let us both be sudden.Gon. Now , good angelsPreserve the King. [ Wa\es ALON . ]Alon. Why, how now? Ho, awake! Why are you drawn?Wherefore this ghastly looking?Gon. What's the matter?Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowingLike bulls, or rather lions. Did ' t not wake you ?It struck mine ear most terribly.Alon. I heard nothing.Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear,To make an earthquake! Sure, it was the roarOf a whole herd of lions.Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo?[427]Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,And that a strange one too, which did awake me.I shak'd you, sir, and cried. As mine eyes open'd,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.Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make further searchFor my poor son.Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts!For he is, sure, i' the island.Alon. Lead away.Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done.So, King, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt.
¶SCENE II. [Another part of the island]
¶Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heardCal. All the infections that the sun sucks upFrom bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make himBy inch-meal 1 a disease! His spirits hear meAnd yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,Fright me with urchin-shows, 2 pitch me i' the mire,Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the darkOut of my way, unless he bid 'em; butFor every trifle are they set upon me,Sometime like apes that mow 3 and chatter at meAnd after bite me, then like hedgehogs whichLie tumbling in my barefoot way and mountTheir pricks at my footfall; sometime am IAll wound with adders who with cloven tonguesDo hiss me into madness.
¶Enter TRINCULOLo, now, lo!Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment meFor bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat;Perchance he will not mind me.
p. 428¶Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' the wind. Yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard* that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head; yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we here? A man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish; he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of not-of-the-newest Poor-John. 5 A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit 6 to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer: this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt. [Thunder.] Alas, the storm is come again! My best way is to creep under his gaberdine; 7 there is no other shelter hereabout. Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.
¶Enter STEPHANO, singing |: a bottle in his hand].
¶Ste. "I shall no more to sea, to sea,
¶Here shall I die ashore—"
¶This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral. Well, here's my comfort. Drinks. (Sings.) "The master, the swabber, 8 the boatswain, and I,
¶The gunner and his mate
¶Lov'd Moll, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
¶But none of us car'd for Kate;
¶For she had a tongue with a tang,
¶Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!
¶She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
¶Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch;
¶Then to sea, boys, and let her go [429]hang!" This is a scurvy tune too; but here's my comfort. Drin\s. Cal. Do not torment me! Oh!
p. 429¶Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon's with savages and men of Ind, ha ? I have not scap'd drowning to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, " As proper 9 a man as ever went on four legs 1 0 cannot make him give ground"; and it shall be said so again while Stephano breathes at nostrils.
¶Cal. The spirit torments me! Oh!
¶Ste. This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him and keep him tame and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's leather. 1 1
¶Cal. Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood home faster.
¶Ste. He's in his fit now and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle; if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him; he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly.
¶Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling. Now Prosper works upon thee.
¶Ste. Come on your ways. Open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat. Open your mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly. You cannot tell who's your friend. Open your chaps again.
¶Trin. I should know that voice; it should be—but he is drown'd; and these are devils. O defend me!
¶Ste. Four legs and two voices; a most delicate monster! His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. Come. Amen! I will pour some in thy other mouth.
¶Trin. Stephano!
¶Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is a devil, and no monster. I will leave him; I have no long spoon.
p. 430¶Trin. Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me and speak to me; for I am Trinculo,—be not afeard—thy good friend Trinculo.
¶Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth. I'll pull thee by the lesser legs. If any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How cam'st thou to be the siege 1 2 of this moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos ?
¶Trin. I took him to be kill'd with a thunderstroke. But art thou not drown'd, Stephano? I hope now thou art not drown'd. Is the storm over-blown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's 1 3 gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano ? O Stephano, two Neapolitans scap'd!
¶Ste. Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.
¶Cal. [Aside.] These be fine things, and if they be not sprites.
¶That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor.
¶I will kneel to him.
¶Ste. How didst thou scape? How cam'st thou hither? Swear by this bottle how thou cam'st hither,—I escap'd upon a butt of sack which the sailors heaved o'erboard—by this bottle, which I made of the bark of a tree with mine own hands since I was cast ashore.
¶Cal. I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject; for the liquor is not earthly.
¶Ste. Here; swear then how thou escap'dst.
¶Trin. Swam ashore, man, like a duck. I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn.
¶Ste. Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose.
¶Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this?
¶Ste. The whole butt, man. My cellar is in a rock by the seaside where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! how does thine ague? Cal. Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven ?
¶Ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee. I was the man i' the moon when time was.
¶Cal. I have seen thee in her and I do adore thee.
¶My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and thy bush.
¶Ste. Come, swear to that; kiss the book. I will furnish it anon with new contents. Swear.
p. 431¶Trin. By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! I afeardof him! A very weak monster! The man i' the moon! A mostpoor credulous monster! Well drawn, 1 4 monster, in good sooth!Cal. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' the island;And I will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god.Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster!When ' s god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle.Cal. I'll kiss thy foot. I'll swear myself thy subject.Ste. Come on then; down, and swear.Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster.A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him—Ste. Come, kiss.Trin. But that the poor monster's in drink.An abominable monster!Cal. I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries;I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough.A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,Thou wondrous man.Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poordrunkard!Cal. I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee howTo snare the nimble marmoset. 1 5 I'll bring theeTo dust'ring filberts and sometimes I'll get theeYoung scamels' 6 from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?Ste. I prithee now, lead the way without any more talking. Trin-culo, the King and all our company else being drown'd, we willinherit here. Here! bear my bottle. Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill himby and by again.Cal.. (Sings drun\enly.)Farewell, master; farewell, farewell!Trin. A howling monster; a drunken monster!Cal. No more dams I'll make for fish;Nor fetch in firing[432]At requiring;Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish.'Ban, 'Ban, CacalibanHas a new master, get a new man.Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-day, freedom!Ste. O brave monster! Lead the way. Exeunt.
Act III
¶SCENE I. [Before Prospero's cell]
¶Enter FERDINAND, bearing a logFer. There be some sports are painful, and their labourDelight in them sets off; some kinds of basenessAre nobly undergone, and most poor mattersPoint to rich ends. This my mean taskWould be as heavy to me as odious, butThe mistress which I serve quickens what's deadAnd makes my labours pleasures. O, she isTen times more gentle than her father's crabbed,And he's compos'd of harshness. I must removeSome thousands of these logs and pile them up,Upon a sore injunction. 1 My sweet mistressWeeps when she sees me work, and says such basenessHad never like executor. 2 I forget;But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,Most busy least, when I do it.
¶Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO [at a distance, unseen]Mir. Alas, now, pray you,Work not so hard. I would the lightning hadBurnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile!Pray, set it down and rest you. When this burns,'Twill weep for having wearied you. My fatherIs hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;He's safe for these three hours.[433]Fer. O most dear mistress,The sun will set before I shall dischargeWhat I must strive to do.Mir. If you'll sit down,I'll bear your logs the while. Pray, give me that;I'll carry it to the pile.Fer. No , precious creature;I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,Than you should such dishonour undergo,While I sit lazy by.Mir. It would become meAs well as it does you; and I should do itWith much more ease, for my good will is to it,And yours it is against.Pros. Poor worm, thou art infected! 3This visitation 4 shows it.Mir. You look wearily.Fer. No , noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with meWhen you are by at night. I do beseech you—Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers—What is your name?Mir. Miranda.—O my father,I have broke your hest to say so!Fer. Admir'd Miranda!Indeed the top of admiration! worthWhat's dearest to the world! Full many a ladyI have ey'd with best regard, and many a timeThe harmony of their tongues hath into bondageBrought my too diligent ear; for several virtuesHave I lik'd several women, never anyWith so full soul, but some defect in herDid quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd 5And put it to the foil; 6 but you, O you,So perfect and so peerless, are createdOf every creature's best![434]Mir. I do not knowOne of my sex; no woman's face remember,Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seenMore that I may call men than you, good friend,And my dear father. How features are abroad,I am skilless 7 of; but, by my modesty,The jewel in my dower, I would not wishAny companion in the world but you,Nor can imagination form a shape,Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattleSomething too wildly, and my father's preceptsI therein do forget.Fer. I am in my conditionA prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;I would, not so!—and would no more endureThis wooden 8 slavery than to sufferThe flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak.The very instant that I saw you, didMy heart fly to your service; there resides,To make me slave to it; and for your sakeAm I this patient log-man.Mir. Do you love me?Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound,And crown what I profess with kind eventIf I speak true! if hollowly, invertWhat best is boded me to mischief! IBeyond all limit of what else i' the worldDo love, prize, honour you.Mir. I am a foolTo weep at what I am glad of.Pros. Fair encounterOf two most rare affections! Heavens rain graceOn that which breeds between 'em!Fer. Wherefore weepMir. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offerWhat I desire to give, and much less take
p. 434¶Ignorant. Of carrying wood.[435]What I shall die to want. But this is trifling;And all the more it seeks to hide itself,The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning!And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!I am your wife, if you will marry me;If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellowYou may deny me; but I'll be your servant,Whether you will or no.Fer. My mistress, dearest;And I thus humble ever.Mir. My husband, then?Fer. Ay , with a heart as willingAs bondage e'er of freedom. Here's my hand.Mir. And mine, with my heart in't. And now farewellTill half an hour hence.Fer. A thousand thousand!Exeunt [FER. and MIR . severally}.Pros. So glad of this as they I cannot be,Who are surpris'd withal; but my rejoicingAt nothing can be more. I'll to my book,For yet ere supper-time must I perform
¶Much business appertaining. Exit.
¶SCENE II. [Another part of the island]
Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO
¶Ste. Tell not me. When the butt is out, we will drink water; not a drop before; therefore bear up, and board 1 'em. Servant-monster, drink to me.
¶Trin. Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They say there's but five upon this isle: we are three of them; if the other two be brain'd like us, the state totters.
¶Ste. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee. Thy eyes are almost set in thy head.
¶Trin. Where should they be set else? He were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.
p. 436¶Ste. My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in sack. For my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues off and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or my standard. 2
¶Trin. Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard.
¶Ste. We'll not run, Monsieur Monster.
¶Trin. Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs and yet say nothing neither.
¶Ste. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good mooncalf.
¶Cal. How does thy honour ? Let me lick thy shoe.
¶I'll not serve him; he's not valiant.
¶Trin. Thou liest, most ignorant monster! I am in case to justle a constable. Why , thou debosh'd 3 fish, thou, was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster?
¶Cal. Lo, how he mocks me! Wilt thou let him, my lord?
¶Trin. "Lord" quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural!
¶Cal. Lo, lo, again! Bite him to death, I prithee.
¶Ste. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head. If you prove a mutineer,—the next tree! The poor monster's my subject and he shall not suffer indignity.
¶Cal. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd to hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?
¶Ste. Marry, will I; kneel and repeat it. I will stand, and so shall Trinculo.
¶Enter ARIEL, invisible
¶Cal. As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island.
¶Ari. Thou liest.
¶Cal. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou. I would my valiant master would destroy thee! I do not lie.
¶Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.
p. 437¶Trin. Why, I said nothing.Ste. Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.Cal. I say, by sorcery he got this isle;From me he got it. If thy greatness willRevenge it on him,—for I know thou dar'st,But this thing dare not,—Ste. That's most certain.Cal. Thou shalt be lord of it and I'll serve thee.Ste. How now shall this be compass'd? Canst thou bring me tothe party ?Cal. Yea, yea, my lord. I'll yield him thee asleep,Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.Ari. Thou liest; thou canst not.Cal. What a pied ninny's 4 this! Thou scurvy patch! 5I do beseech thy greatness, give him blowsAnd take his bottle from him. When that's goneHe shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show himWhere the quick freshes 6 are.Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger. Interrupt the monsterone word further, and, by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doorsand make a stock-fish 7 of thee.Trin. Why, what did I ? I did nothing. I'll go farther off.Ste. Didst thou not say he lied?Ari. Thou liest.Ste. Do I so? Take thou that. [Beats TRIN . ]As you like this, give me the lie another time.Trin. I did not give the lie. Out o' your wits and hearing too ? Apox o' your bottle! this can sack and drinking do. A murrain 8 onyour monster, and the devil take your fingers!Cal. Ha, ha, ha!Ste. Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, stand farther off.Cal. Beat him enough. After a little timeI'll beat him too.Ste. Stand farther. Come, proceed.Cal. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him,I' the afternoon to sleep. There thou mayst brain him,[438]Having first seiz'd his books, or with a logBatter his skull, or paunch him 9 with a stake,Or cut his wezand 1 0 with thy knife. RememberFirst to possess his books; for without themHe's but a sot, as I am, nor hath notOne spirit to command. They all do hate himAs rootedly as I. Burn but his books.He has brave utensils,—for so he calls them,—Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal.And that most deeply to consider isThe beauty of his daughter. He himselfCalls her a nonpareil. I never saw a womanBut only Sycorax my dam and she;But she as far surpasseth SycoraxAs greatest does least.Ste. Is it so brave a lass ?Cal. Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant,And bring thee forth brave brood.Ste. Monster, I will kill this man. His daughter and I will beking and queen,—save our Graces!—and Trinculo and thyself shallbe viceroys. Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo ?Trin. Excellent.Ste. Give me thy hand. I am sorry I beat thee; but, while thouliv'st, keep a good tongue in thy head.Cal. Within this half hour will he be asleep.Wilt thou destroy him then?Ste. Ay , on mine honour.Ari. This will I tell my master.Cal. Thou mak'st me merry; I am full of pleasure.Let us be jocund. Will you troll the catch 1 1You taught me but while-ere ?Ste. At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any reason. Comeon, Trinculo, let us sing. Sings.Flout 'em and scout 'emAnd scout 'em and flout 'em;Thought is free.[439]Cal. That's not the tune. ARIEL plays the tune on a tabor and pipe.Ste. What is this same?Trin. This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture ofNobody.Ste. If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness. If thoube'st a devil, take't as thou list.Trin. O, forgive me my sins!Ste. He that dies pays all debts. I defy thee. Mercy upon us!Cal. Art thou afeard?Ste. No , monster, not I.Cal. Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.Sometimes a thousand twangling instrumentsWill hum about mine ears, and sometime voicesThat, if I then had wak'd after long sleep,Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming,The clouds methought would open and show richesReady to drop upon me, that, when I wak'd,I cried to dream again.Ste. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall havemy music for nothing.Cal. When Prospero is destroy'd.Ste. That shall be by and by. I remember the story.Trin. The sound is going away. Let's follow it, and after do ourwork.Ste. Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see this taborer;he lays it on.Trin. Wilt come? I'll follow Stephano. Exeunt.
¶Enter ALONZO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, etc.
¶Gon. By 'r lakin, 1 I can go no further, sir;My old bones ache. Here's a maze trod indeedThrough forth-rights and meanders! 2 By your patience,I needs must rest me.[440]Alon. Old lord, I cannot blame thee,Who am myself attach'd 3 with wearinessTo the dulling of my spirits. Sit down, and rest.Even here I will put off my hope and keep itNo longer for my flatterer. He is drown'dWhom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocksOur frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.Ant. [Aside to SEB.] I am right glad that he's so out of hope.Do not, for one repulse, forego the purposeThat you resolv'd to effect.Seb. [Aside to ANT . ] The next advantageWill we take throughly.Ant. [Aside to SEB.] Let it be to-night;For, now they are oppress'd with travel, theyWill not, nor cannot, use such vigilanceAs when they are fresh.
p. 440¶Solemn and strange music; and PROSPERO on the top invisible. Enterseveral strange shapes, bringing in a banquet; and dance about itwith gentle actions of salutation; and, inviting the King, etc., toeat, they depart.Seb. [Aside to ANT . ] I say, to-night. No more.Alon. What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!Gon. Marvellous sweet music!Alon. Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?Seb. A living drollery. 4 Now I will believeThat there are unicorns, that in ArabiaThere is one tree, the phcenix' throne, one phoenixAt this hour reigning there.Ant. I'll believe both;And what does else want credit, come to me,And I'll be sworn 'tis true. Travellers ne'er did lie,Though fools at home condemn 'em.Gon. If in NaplesI should report this now, would they believe me?If I should say, I saw such islanders—[441]For, certes, these are people of the island—Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note,Their manners are more gentle, kind, than ofOur human generation you shall findMany, nay, almost any.Pros. [Aside.] Honest lord,Thou hast said well; for some of you there presentAre worse than devils.Alon. I cannot too much muse 5Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing,Although they want the use of tongue, a kindOf excellent dumb discourse.Pros. [Aside.] Praise in departing.Fran. They vanish'd strangely.Seb. No matter, sinceThey have left their viands behind, for we have stomachs.Will ' t please you taste of what is here?Alon. Not I.Gon. Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,Who would believe that there were mountaineersDew-lapp'd like bulls, 6 whose throats had hanging at 'emWallets of flesh ? or that there were such menWhose heads stood in their breasts? which now we findEach putter-out of five for one 7 will bring usGood warrant of.Alon. I will stand to and feed,Although my last. No matter, since I feelThe best is past. Brother, my lord the Duke,Stand to and do as we.
p. 441¶Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps his wingsupon the table; and, with a quaint device? the banquet vanishes.Ari. You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,That hath to instrument 9 this lower worldAnd what is in't, the never-surfeited sea[442]Hath caus'd to belch up you; and on this islandWhere man doth not inhabit; you Ynongst menBeing most unfit to live. I have made you mad;And even with such-like valour men hang and drownTheir proper selves. [ALON., SEB., etc., draw their swords.]You fools! I and my fellowsAre ministers of Fate. The elements, 1 0Of whom your swords are temper'd, 1 1 may as wellWound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabsKill the still-closing waters, as diminishOne dowle 1 2 that's in my plume. My fellow-ministersAre like invulnerable. If you could hurt,Your swords are now too massy for your strengthsAnd will not be uplifted. But remember—For that's my business to you—that you threeFrom Milan did supplant good Prospero;Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it,Him and his innocent child; for which foul deedThe powers, delaying, not forgetting, haveIncens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,They have bereft; and do pronounce by meLing'ring perdition, worse than any deathCan be at once, shall step by step attendYou and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from—Which here, in this most desolate isle, else fallsUpon your heads—is nothing but heart's sorrowAnd a clear life ensuing.
p. 442¶He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, enter the shapesagain, and dance with mocks and mows, and carrying outthe tablePros. Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thouPerform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring.Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated 1 3In what thou hadst to say; so, with good life 1 4[443]And observation 1 5 strange, my meaner ministersTheir several kinds have done. My high charms work,And these mine enemies are all knit upIn their distractions. They now are in my power;And in these fits I leave them, while I visitYoung Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown'd,And his and mine lov'd darling. [Exit above.]Gon. I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand youIn this strange stare?Alon. O, it is monstrous, monstrous!Methought the billows spoke and told me of it;The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder,That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'dThe name of Prosper; it did bass 1 6 my trespass.Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded, andI'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet soundedAnd with him there lie mudded. [EwV.]Seb. But one fiend at a time,I'll fight their legions o'er.Ant. I'll be thy second.Exeunt [SEB. and ANT . ]Gon. All three of them are desperate: their great guilt,Like poison given to work a great time after,Now gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech youThat are of suppler joints, follow them swiftlyAnd hinder them from what this ecstasy 1 7May now provoke them to.Adr. Follow, I pray you. Exeunt.
Act IV
¶SCENE I. [Be j ore Pros per o's cell]
Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA
¶Pros. If I have too austerely punish'd you,Your compensation makes amends, for I[444]Have given you here a third of mine own life,Or that for which I live; who once againI tender 1 to thy hand. All thy vexationsWere but my trials of thy love, and thouHast strangely stood the test. Here, afore Heaven,I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,Do not smile at me that I boast her off,For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praiseAnd make it halt behind her.Fer. I do believe itAgainst an oracle.Pros. Then, as my gift and thine own acquisitionWorthily purchas'd, take my daughter. ButIf thou dost break her virgin-knot beforeAll sanctimonious ceremonies mayWith full and holy rite be minist'red,No sweet aspersion 2 shall the heavens let fallTo make this contract grow; but barren Hate,Sour-eyed Disdain and Discord shall bestrewThe union of your bed with weeds so loathlyThat you shall hate it both. Therefore take heed,As Hymen's lamps shall light you.Fer. As I hopeFor quiet days, fair issue, and long life,With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den,The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion*Our worser genius can, shall never meltMine honour into lust, to take awayThe edge of that day's celebrationWhen I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are founder'dOr Night kept chain'd below.Pros. Fairly spoke.Sit then and talk with her; she is thine own.What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel![445]Enter ARIELAri. What would my potent master ? Here I am.Pros. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last serviceDid worthily perform; and I must use youIn such another trick. Go bring the rabble,O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place.Incite them to quick motion; for I mustBestow upon the eyes of this young coupleSome vanity of mine art. It is my promise,And they expect it from me.Ari. Presently ?Pros. Ay, with a twink.Ari. Before you can say "come" and "go,"And breathe twice and cry "so, so,"Each one, tripping on his toe,Will be here with mop 4 and mow.Do you love me, master? No ?Pros. Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approachTill thou dost hear me call.Ari. Well, I conceive. 5 Exit.Pros. Look thou be true; do not give dallianceToo much the rein. The strongest oaths are strawTo the fire i' the blood. Be more abstemious,Or else, good night your vow!Fer. I warrant you, sir;The white cold virgin snow upon my heartAbates the ardour of my liver. 6Pros. Well.Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary, 7Rather than want a spirit. Appear, and pertly!No tongue! all eyes! Be silent. Soft music.
p. 445¶Enter IRISIris. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leasOf wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease;[446]Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,And flat meads thatch'd with stover, 8 them to keep;Thy banks with pioned 9 and twilled 1 0 brims,Which spongy April at thy hest betrimsTo make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy brown groves,Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipp'd 1 1 vineyard;And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard,Where thou thyself dost air;—the queen o' the sky,Whose watery arch and messenger am I,Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace,JUNO descends.Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,To come and sport; here peacocks fly amain.Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.
¶Cer. Hail, many-coloured messenger, that ne'erDost disobey the wife of Jupiter;Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowersDiffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers,And with each end of thy blue bow dost crownMy bosky 1 2 acres and my unshrubb'd down,Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy queenSummon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green ?Iris. A contract of true love to celebrate;And some donation freely to estate 1 3On the blest lovers.Cer. Tell me, heavenly bow,If Venus or her son, as thou dost know,Do now attend the Queen? Since they did plotThe means that dusky Dis my daughter got,Her and her blind boy's scandal'd 1 4 companyI have forsworn.[447]Iris. Of her societyBe not afraid. I met her deityCutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her sonDove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have doneSome wanton charm upon this man and maid,Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paidTill Hymen's torch be lighted; but in vain.Mars's hot minion 1 5 is return'd again;Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrowsAnd be a boy right out.Cer. Highest queen of state,Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait.
p. 447¶[Enter JUNO]Juno. How does my bounteous sister? Go with meTo bless this twain, that they may prosperous beAnd honour'd in their issue. They sing.Juno. Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,Long continuance, and increasing,Hourly joys be still upon you!Juno sings her blessings on you.[Cer.] Earth's increase, foison 1 6 plenty,Barns and garners never empty,Vines with clustering bunches growing,Plants with goodly burden bowing.Spring come to you at the farthestIn the very end of harvest!Scarcity and want shall shun you;Ceres' blessing so is on you.Fer. This is a most majestic vision, andHarmonious charmingly. May I be boldTo think these spirits?Pros. Spirits, which by mine artI have from their confines call'd to enactMy present fancies.[448]Fer. Let me live here ever;So rare a wond'red 1 7 father and a wiseMakes this place Paradise.Pros. Sweet, now, silence!Juno and Ceres whisper seriously.There's something else to do; hush, and be mute,Or else our spell is marr'd.JUNO and CERES whisper, and send IRIS on employment.Iris. You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the winding brooks,With your sedg'd crowns and ever-harmless looks,Leave your crisp channels, and on this green landAnswer your summons; Juno does command.Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrateA contract of true love; be not too late.
p. 448¶Enter certain NymphsYou sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,Come hither from the furrow and be merry.Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put onAnd these fresh nymphs encounter every oneIn country footing.
¶Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join with the Nymphsin a graceful dance; towards the end whereof PROSPERO startssuddenly, and spea\s; after which, to a strange, hollow, andconfused noise, they heavily vanishPros. [Aside.] I had forgot that foul conspiracyOf the beast Caliban and his confederatesAgainst my life. The minute of their plotIs almost come. [To the Spirits.] Well done! avoid. No more!Fer. This is strange. Your father's in some passion 1 8That works him strongly.Mir. Never till this daySaw I him touch'd with anger, so distemper'd. 1 9Pros. You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort,As if you were dismay'd. Be cheerful, sir,[449]Our revels now are ended. These our actors,As I foretold you, were all spirits, andAre melted into air, into thin air;And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,The solemn temples, the great globe itself,Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolveAnd, like this insubstantial pageant faded,Leave not a rack1 0 behind. We are such stuffAs dreams are made on, and our little lifeIs rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd,—Bear with my weakness—my old brain is troubled.Be not disturb'd with my infirmity.If you be pleas'd, retire into my cellAnd there repose. A turn or two I'll walk,To still my beating mind.Fer. Mir. We wish your peace. Exeunt.Pros. Come with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel; come.
p. 449¶Enter ARIELAri. Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure?Pros. Spirit,We must prepare to meet with Caliban.Ari. Ay, my commander. When I presented Ceres,I thought to have told thee of it, but I fear'dLest I might anger thee.Pros. Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?Ari. I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;So full of valour that they smote the airFor breathing in their faces; beat the groundFor kissing of their feet; yet always bendingTowards their project. Then I beat my tabor;At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears,Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their nosesAs they smelt music. So I charm'd their earsThat calf-like they my lowing follow'd through[450]Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking gorse, and thorns,Which ent'red their frail shins. At last I left themI' the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lakeO'erstunk their feet.Pros. This was well done, my bird.Thy shape invisible retain thou still.The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither,For stale 2 1 to catch these thieves.Ari. I go, I go. Exit.Pros. A devil, a born devil, on whose natureNurture can never stick; on whom my pains,Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;And as with age his body uglier grows,So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,Even to roaring.
¶[PROSPERO and ARIEL remain, invisible.] Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO,
¶and TRINCULO, all wet
¶Cal. Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may notHear a foot fall; we now are near his cell.Ste. Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, hasdone little better than play'd the Jack 2 3 with us.Trin. Monster, I do smell all horse-piss, at which my nose is ingreat indignation.Ste. So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take a displeasure against you, look you,—Trin. Thou wert but a lost monster.Cal. Good my lord, give me thy favour still.Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee toShall hoodwink 2 4 this mischance; therefore speak softly.All's hush'd as midnight yet.Trin. Ay , but to lose our bottles in the pool,—[451]Ste. There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, monster,but an infinite loss.Trin. That's more to me than my wetting; yet this is your harmless fairy, monster!Ste. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears for my labour.Cal. Prithee, my king, be quiet. See'st thou here,This is the mouth o' the cell. No noise, and enter.Do that good mischief which may make this islandThine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,For aye thy foot-licker.Ste. Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts.Trin. O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look whata wardrobe here is for thee!Cal. Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.Trin. O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery. 2 5 OKing Stephano!Ste. Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll have that gown.Trin. Thy grace shall have it.Cal. The dropsy drown this fool! what do you meanTo dote thus on such luggage ? Let's aloneAnd do the murder first. If he awake,From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches,Make us strange stuff.Ste. Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not this my jerkin?Now is the jerkin under the line. 2 6 Now , jerkin, you are like tolose your hair and prove a bald jerkin.Trin. Do, do; we steal by line and level, an ' t like your Grace.Ste. I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment for't. Wit shallnot go unrewarded while I am king of this country. "Steal by lineand level" is an excellent pass of pate; 2 7 there's another garment for't.Trin. Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and awaywith the rest.Cal. I will have none on't. We shall lose our time,And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apesWith foreheads villainous low.[452]Ste. Monster, lay-to your fingers. Help to bear this away wheremy hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you out of my kingdom. Go to,carry this.Trin. And this.Ste. Ay , and this.
p. 452¶A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of dogsand hounds, hunting them about, PROSPERO and ARIEL settingthem onPros. Hey, Mountain, hey!Ari. Silver! there it goes, Silver!Pros. Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark! hark!
¶[ CAL . , STE., and TRIN . are driven out.]
¶Go charge my goblins that they grind their jointsWith dry convulsions, shorten up their sinewsWith aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make themThan pard or cat o' mountain. 2 8Ari. Hark, they roar!Pros. Let them be hunted soundly. At this hourLies at my mercy all mine enemies.Shortly shall all my labours end, and thouShalt have the air of freedom. For a littleFollow, and do me service. Exeunt.
[ Act V ]
¶SCENE I. [Before Prospero's cell]
¶Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARTELPros. Now does my project gather to a head.My charms crack 1 not; my spirits obey; and TimeGoes upright with his carriage. 2 How's the day?Ari. On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,You said our work should cease.Pros. I did say so,When first I rais'd the tempest. Say, my spirit,How fares the King and's followers?[453]Ari. Confin'd togetherIn the same fashion as you gave in charge,Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,In the line-grove which weather-fends 3 your cell;They cannot budge till your release. The King,His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,And the remainder mourning over them,Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chieflyHim that you term'd, sir, "The good old lord, Gonzalo,"His tears run down his beard, like winter's dropsFrom eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'emThat if you now beheld them, your affectionsWould become tender.Pros. Dost thou think so, spirit?Ari. Mine would, sir, were I human.Pros. And mine shall.Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feelingOf their afflictions, and shall not myself,One of their kind, that relish all as sharplyPassion 4 as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art?Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick.Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my furyDo I take part. The rarer action isIn virtue than in vengeance. They being penitent,The sole drift of my purpose doth extendNot a frown further. Go release them, Ariel.My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore,And they shall be themselves.Ari. I'll fetch them, sir. Exit.Pros. Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves,And ye that on the sands with printless footDo chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly himWhen he comes back; you demi-puppets 5 thatBy moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastimeIs to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
p. 453¶'Protects from the weather. Feel emotion as keenly.[454]To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'dThe noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous windsAnd 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vaultSet roaring war; to the dread rattling thunderHave I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oakWith his own bolt; the strong-bas'd promontoryHave I made shake, and by the spurs pluck'd upThe pine and cedar; graves at my commandHave wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forthBy my so potent art. But this rough magicI here abjure, and, when I have requir'dSome heavenly music, which even now I do,To work mine end upon their senses thatThis airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,And deeper than did ever plummet soundI'll drown my book. Solemn music.
p. 454¶Here enters ARIEL before: then ALONZO, with a frantic gesture,attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner,attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO. They all enter the circlewhich PROSPERO had made, and there stand charmed; whichPROSPERO observing, speaks
¶A solemn air and the best comforterTo an unsettled fancy cure thy brains,Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There stand,For you are spell-stopp'd.Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,Mine eyes, even sociable1 to the shew of thine,Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace,And as the morning steals upon the night,Melting the darkness, so their rising sensesBegin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantleTheir clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,My true preserver, and a loyal sirTo him thou follow'st! I will pay thy graces[455]Home 7 both in word and deed. Most cruellyDidst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter.Thy brother was a f urtherer in the act.Thou art pinch'd for't now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood,You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition,Expell'd remorse and nature, 8 whom, with Sebastian,Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,Would here have kill'd your king, I do forgive thee,Unnatural though thou art. Their understandingBegins to swell, and the approaching tideWill shortly fill the reasonable shore 9That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of themThat yet looks on me, or would know me! Ariel,Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell;I will disease 1 0 me, and myself presentAs I was sometime Milan. Quickly, spirit;Thou shalt ere long be free.
p. 455¶ARIEL sings and helps to attire himAri. "Where the bee sucks, there suck I.In a cowslip's bell I lie;There I couch when owls do cry.On the bat's back I do flyAfter summer merrily.Merrily, merrily shall I live nowUnder the blossom that hangs on the bough."
¶Pros. Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee;But yet thou shalt have freedom. So, so, so.To the King's ship, invisible as thou art;There shalt thou find the mariners asleepUnder the hatches. The master and the boatswainBeing awake, enforce them to this place,And presently, I prithee.Ari. I drink the air before me, and returnOr ere your pulse twice beat. Exit.Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement[456]Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide usOut of this fearful country IPros. Behold, sir King,The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero.For more assurance that a living princeDoes now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;And to thee and thy company I bidA hearty welcome.Alon. Whe'er thou be'st he or no,Or some enchanted trifle to abuse 1 1 me,As late I have been, I not know. Thy pulseBeats as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,The affliction of my mind amends, with whichI fear, a madness held me. This must crave,An if this be at all, a most strange story,Thy dukedom I resign and do entreatThou pardon me my wrongs. But how should ProsperoBe living and be here?Pros. First, noble friend,Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannotBe measur'd or confin'd,Gon. Whether this beOr be not, I'll not swear.Pros. You do yet tasteSome subtleties o' the isle, that will not let youBelieve things certain. Welcome, my friends all![Aside to SEB. and ANT . ] But you, my brace of lords, were 1 sominded,I here could pluck his Highness' frown upon youAnd justify you traitors. At this timeI will tell no tales.Seb. [Aside.] The devil speaks in him.Pros. No .For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brotherWould even infect my mouth, I do forgiveThy rankest fault; all of them; and require[457]My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,Thou must restore.Alon. If thou be'st Prospero,Give us particulars of thy preservation,How thou hast met us here, whom three hours sinceWere wreck'd upon this shore, where I have lost —How sharp the point of this remembrance is!—My dear son Ferdinand.Pros. I am woe for't, sir.Alon. Irreparable is the loss, and PatienceSays it is past her cure.Pros. I rather thinkYou have not sought her help, of whose soft graceFor the like loss I have her sovereign aidAnd rest myself content.Alon. You the like loss!Pros. As great to me as late; and, supportableTo make the dear loss, have I means much weakerThan you may call to comfort you, for IHave lost my daughter.Alon. A daughter?O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,The King and Queen there! That they were, I wishMyself were mudded in that oozy bedWhere my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?Pros. In this last tempest. I perceive, these lordsAt this encounter do so much admire1 2That they devour their reason and scarce thinkTheir eyes do offices of truth, their wordsAre natural breath; but, howsoe'er you haveBeen justled from your senses, know for certainThat I am Prospero and that very dukeWhich was thrust forth of Milan, who most strangelyUpon this shore, where you were wreck'd, was landed,To be the lord on't. No more yet of this;For 'tis a chronicle of day by day,[458]Not a relation for a breakfast norBefitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir;This cell's my court. Here have I few attendants,And subjects none abroad. Pray you, look in.My dukedom since you have given me again,I will requite you with as good a thing;At least bring forth a wonder, to content yeAs much as me my dukedom.
p. 458¶Here PROSPERO discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chessMir. Sweet lord, you play me false.Fer. No, my dearest love,I would not for the world.Mir. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,And I would call it fair play.Alon. If this proveA vision of the island, one dear sonShall I twice lose.Seb. A most high miracle!Fer. Though the seas threaten, they are merciful;I have curs'd them without cause. [Kneels.]Alon. Now all the blessingsOf a glad father compass thee about!Arise, and say how thou cam'st here.Mir. O, wonder!How many goodly creatures are there here!How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,That has such people in ' t !Pros. 'Tis new to thee.Alon. What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours.Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us,And brought us thus together ?Fer. Sir, she is mortal,But by immortal Providence she's mine.I chose her when I could not ask my fatherFor his advice, nor thought I had one. She[459]Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan,Of whom so often I have heard renown,But never saw before; of whom I haveReceiv'd a second life; and second fatherThis lady makes him to me.Alon. I am hers,But, O, how oddly will it sound that IMust ask my child forgiveness!Pros. There, sir, stop.Let us not burden our remembrances withA heaviness that's gone.Gon. I have inly wept,Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you gods,And on this couple drop a blessed crown!For it is you that have chalk'd forth the wayWhich brought us hither.Alon. I say, Amen, Gonzalo!Gon. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issueShould become Kings of Naples? O, rejoiceBeyond a common joy, and set it downWith gold on lasting pillars: in one voyageDid Claribel her husband find a Tunis,And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wifeWhere he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedomIn a poor isle, and all of us ourselvesWhen no man was his own.Alon. [To FER. and MIR.] Give me your hands.Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heartThat doth not wish you joy!Gon. Be it so! Amen!
¶Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boatswain amazedly followingO, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us.I prophesi'd, if a gallows were on land,This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy,That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore ?Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?[460]Boats. The best news is, that we have safely foundOur king and company; the next, our ship—Which, but three glasses 1 3 since, we gave out split—Is tight and yare 1 4 and bravely rigg'd as whenWe first put out to sea.Ari. [Aside to PROS.] Sir, all this serviceHave I done since I went.Pros. [Aside to ARI.] My tricksy spirit!Alon. These are not natural events; they strengthenFrom strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither ?Boats. If I did think, sir, I were well awake,I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,And—how we know not—all clapp'd under hatches;Where but even now with strange and several noisesOf roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains.And moe diversity of sounds, all horrible,We were awak'd; straightway, at liberty;Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheldOur royal, good, and gallant ship, our masterCap'ring to eye 1 5 her. On a trice, so please you,Even in a dream, were we divided from themAnd were brought moping 1 6 hither.Ari. [Aside to PROS.] Was ' t well done ?Pros. [Aside to ARI.] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free.Alon. This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod;And there is in this business more than natureWas ever conduct of. Some oracleMust rectify our knowledge.Pros. Sir, my liege,Do not infest" your mind with beating onThe strangeness of this business. At pick'd leisure,Which shall be shortly, single 1 8 I'll resolve you,Which to you shall seem probable, of everyThese happen'd accidents; till when, be cheerfulAnd think of each thing well. [Aside to ARI.] Come hither, spirit.Set Caliban and his companions free;[461]Untie the spell. [Exit ARIEL.] HOW fares my gracious sir?There are yet missing of your companySome few odd lads that you remember not.
p. 461¶Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO and TRINCULO, in
¶their stolen apparelSte. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care forhimself; for all is but fortune. Coragio, bully-monster, coragio!Trin. If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here's agoodly sight.Cal. O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed!How fine my master is! I am afraidHe will chastise me.Seb. Ha, ha!What things are these, my lord Antonio ?Will money buy 'em ?Ant. Very like; one of themIs a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.Pros. Mark but the badges 1 9 of these men, my lords,Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave,His mother was a witch, and one so strongThat could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,And deal in her command without 2 0 her power.These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil—For he's a bastard one—had plotted with themTo take my life. Two of these fellows youMust know and own; this thing of darkness IAcknowledge mine.Cal. I shall be pinch'd to death.Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?Seb. He is drunk now. Where had he wine ?Alon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe. Where should theyFind this grand liquor that hath gilded 2 1 'em ?How cam'st thou in this pickle ?Trin. I have been in such a pickle since I saw you last that, I fearme, will never out of my bones. I shall not fear fly-blowing.[462]Seb. Why, how now, Stephano!Ste. O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a cramp.Pros. You'd be King o' the isle, sirrah ?Ste. I should have been a sore one then.Alon. This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd on.Pointing to CALIBAN.Pros. He is disproportion'd in his mannersAs in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell;Take with you your companions. As you lookTo have my pardon, trim it handsomely.Cal. Ay , that I will; and I'll be wise hereafterAnd seek for grace. What a thrice-double assWas I, to take this drunkard for a godAnd worship this dull fool!Pros. Go to; away!Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.Seb. Or stole it, rather. [Exeunt CAL., STE., and TRIN.]Pros. Sir, I invite your Highness and your trainTo my poor cell, where you shall take your restFor this one night; which, part of it, I'll wasteWith such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make itGo quick away,—the story of my lifeAnd the particular accidents gone bySince I came to this isle. An in the mornI'll bring you to your ship and so to Naples,Where I have hope to see the nuptialOf these our dear-belov'd solemnized;And thence retire me to my Milan, whereEvery third thought shall be my grave.Alon. I longTo hear the story of your life, which mustTake the ear strangely.Pros. I'll deliver all;And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,And sail so expeditious that shall catchYour royal fleet far off. [Aside to ARI.] My Ariel, chick,[463]That is thy charge. Then to the elementsBe free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near.Exeunt omnes.
EpilogueSpoken by Prospero
¶Now my charms are all o'erthrown,And what strength I have's mine own,Which is most faint. Now , 'tis true,I must be here confin'd by you,Or sent to Naples. Let me not,Since I have my dukedom gotAnd pardon'd the deceiver, dwellIn this bare island by your spell;But release me from my bandsWith the help of your good hands.Gentle breath of yours my sailsMust fill, or else my project fails,Which was to please. Now I wantSpirits to enforce, art to enchant,And my ending is despair,Unless I be reliev'd by prayer,Which pierces so that it assaultsMercy itself and frees all faults.As you from crimes would pardon'd be,Let your indulgence set me free. Exit.