I. 1. 50 Gon. The king and prince at prayers! let’s assist them,

For our case is as theirs.

Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:

This wide-chapp’d rascal,—would thou mightst lie drowning

The washing of ten tides!

Gon.

He’ll be hang’d yet,

55 Though every drop of water swear against it,

And gape at widest to glut him.

Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, you have

Put 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,

5 Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer’d

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 knock

Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perish’d!

10 Had I been any god of power, I would

Have sunk the sea within the earth, or ere

It should the good ship so have swallow’d and

The fraughting souls within her.

Pros.

Be collected:

No more amazement: tell your piteous heart

There’s no harm done.

Pros.

15 No harm.

I have done nothing but in care of thee,

Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who

Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing

Of whence I am, nor that I am more better

20 Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,

And thy no greater father.

Mir.

More to know

Did never meddle with my thoughts.

Pros.

’Tis time

I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,

And pluck my magic garment from me.—So: Lays down his mantle.

I. 2. 25 Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.

The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch’d

The very virtue of compassion in thee,

I have with such provision in mine art

So safely order’d, that there is no soul,

30 No, not so much perdition as an hair

Betid to any creature in the vessel

Which thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st sink. Sit down;

For thou must now know farther.

Mir.

You have often

Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp’d,

35

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 remember

A time before we came unto this cell?

40 I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not

Out three years old.

Pros. By what? by any other house or person?

Of any thing the image tell me that

Hath kept with thy remembrance.

Mir.

’Tis far off,

45 And rather like a dream than an assurance

That my remembrance warrants. Had I not

Four or five women once that tended me?

Pros. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it

That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else

I. 2. 50 In the dark backward and abysm of time?

If thou remember’st ought ere thou camest here,

How thou camest here thou mayst.

Pros. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,

Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and

A prince of power.

Mir.

55 Sir, are not you my father?

Pros. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and

She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father

Was Duke of Milan; and his only heir

And princess, no worse issued.

Mir.

O the heavens!

60 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 heaved thence;

But blessedly holp hither.

Mir.

O, my heart bleeds

To think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to.

65 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 should

Be so perfidious!—he whom, next thyself,

Of all the world I loved, and to him put

70 The manage of my state; as, at that time,

Through all the signories it was the first,

And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed

In dignity, and for the liberal arts

Without a parallel; those being all my study,

I. 2. 75 The government I cast upon my brother,

And to my state grew stranger, being transported

And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle—

Dost thou attend me?

Pros. Being once perfected how to grant suits,

80 How to deny them, whom to advance, and whom

To trash for over-topping, new created

The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed ’em,

Or else new form’d ’em; having both the key

Of officer and office, set all hearts i’ the state

85 To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was

The 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 dedicated

90 To closeness and the bettering of my mind

With that which, but by being so retired,

O’er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother

Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,

Like a good parent, did beget of him

95 A falsehood in its contrary, as great

As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,

A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,

Not only with what my revenue yielded,

But what my power might else exact, like one

I. 2. 100 Who having into truth, by telling of it,

Made such a sinner of his memory,

To credit his own lie, he did believe

He was indeed the duke; out o’ the substitution,

And executing the outward face of royalty,

105 With all prerogative:—hence his ambition growing,—

Dost thou hear?

Pros. To have no screen between this part he play’d

And him he play’d it for, he needs will be

Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library

110 Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties

He thinks me now incapable; confederates,

So dry he was for sway, wi’ the King of Naples

To give him annual tribute, do him homage,

Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend

115 The dukedom, yet unbow’d,—alas, poor Milan!—

To most ignoble stooping.

Pros. Mark his condition, and th’ event; then tell me

If this might be a brother.

Mir.

I should sin

To think but nobly of my grandmother:

Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Pros.

120 Now the condition.

This King of Naples, being an enemy

To me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit;

Which was, that he, in lieu o’ the premises,

Of homage and I know not how much tribute,

I. 2. 125 Should presently extirpate me and mine

Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan,

With all the honours, on my brother: whereon,

A treacherous army levied, one midnight

Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open

130 The gates of Milan; and, i’ the dead of darkness,

The ministers for the purpose hurried thence

Me and thy crying self.

Mir.

Alack, for pity!

I, not remembering how I cried out then,

Will cry it o’er again: it is a hint

That wrings mine eyes to’t.

Pros.

135 Hear a little further,

And then I’ll bring thee to the present business

Which now’s upon ’s; without the which, this story

Were most impertinent.

Mir.

Wherefore did they not

That hour destroy us?

Pros.

Well demanded, wench:

140 My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,

So dear the love my people bore me; nor set

A mark so bloody on the business; but

With colours fairer painted their foul ends.

In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,

145 Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared

A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg’d,

Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats

Instinctively have quit it: there they hoist us,

To cry to the sea that roar’d to us; to sigh

I. 2. 150 To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,

Did us but loving wrong.

Mir.

Alack, what trouble

Was I then to you!

Pros.

O, a cherubin

Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile,

Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

155 When I have deck’d the sea with drops full salt,

Under my burthen groan’d; which raised in me

An undergoing stomach, to bear up

Against what should ensue.

Pros. By Providence divine.

160 Some food we had, and some fresh water, that

A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,

Out of his charity, who being then appointed

Master of this design, did give us, with

Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,

165 Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,

Knowing I loved my books, he furnish’d me

From mine own library with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom.

Mir.

Would I might

But ever see that man!

Pros.

Now I arise: Resumes his mantle.

170 Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.

Here in this island we arrived; and here

Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit

Than other princesses can, that have more time

For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

I. 2. 175 Mir. Heavens thank you for’t! And now, I pray you, sir,

For still ’tis beating in my mind, your reason

For raising this sea-storm?

Pros.

Know thus far forth.

By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,

Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies

180 Brought to this shore; and by my prescience

I find my zenith doth depend upon

A most auspicious star, whose influence

If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes

Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions:

185 Thou art inclined 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.

Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come

190 To answer thy best pleasure; be’t to fly,

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

On the curl’d clouds, to thy strong bidding task

Ariel and all his quality.

Pros.

Hast thou, spirit,

Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee?

195 Ari. To every article.

I boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak,

Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,

I flamed amazement: sometime I’ld divide,

And burn in many places; on the topmast,

I. 2. 200 The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,

Then meet and join. Jove’s lightnings, the precursors

O’ the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary

And sight-outrunning were not: the fire and cracks

Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune

205 Seem 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

Would not infect his reason?

Ari.

Not a soul

But felt a fever of the mad, and play’d

210 Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners

Plunged 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.

215 Why, that’s my spirit!

But was not this nigh shore?

Pros. But are they, Ariel, safe?

Ari.

Not a hair perish’d;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,

But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,

220 In troops I have dispersed them ’bout the isle.

The king’s son have I landed by himself;

Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs

In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,

His arms in this sad knot.

Pros.

Of the king’s ship

I. 2. 225 The mariners, say how thou hast disposed,

And all the rest o’ the fleet.

Ari.

Safely in harbour

Is the king’s ship; in the deep nook, where once

Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew

From the still-vex’d Bermoothes, there she’s hid:

230 The mariners all under hatches stow’d;

Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour,

I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet,

Which I dispersed, they all have met again,

And are upon the Mediterranean flote,

235 Bound sadly home for Naples;

Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d,

And his great person perish.

Pros.

Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is perform’d: but there’s more work.

What is the time o’ the day?

240 Pros. At least two glasses. The time ’twixt six and now

Must by us both be spent most preciously.

Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,

Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,

Which is not yet perform’d me.

Pros.

How now? moody?

What is’t thou canst demand?

Ari.

245 My liberty.

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, served

Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise

To bate me a full year.

Pros.

I. 2. 250 Dost thou forget

From what a torment I did free thee?

Pros. Thou dost; and think’st it much to tread the ooze

Of the salt deep,

To run upon the sharp wind of the north,

255 To do me business in the veins o’ the earth

When it is baked with frost.

Pros. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot

The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy

Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

Ari. No, sir.

Pros.

260 Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.

Ari. Sir, in Argier.

Pros.

O, was she so? I must

Once in a month recount what thou hast been,

Which thou forget’st. This damn’d witch Sycorax,

For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible

265 To enter human hearing, from Argier,

Thou know’st, was banish’d: for one thing she did

They would not take her life. Is not this true?

Ari. Ay, sir.

Pros. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child,

270 And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,

As thou report’st thyself, wast then her servant;

And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate

To act her earthy and abhorr’d commands,

Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,

I. 2. 275 By help of her more potent ministers,

And in her most unmitigable rage,

Into a cloven pine; within which rift

Imprison’d thou didst painfully remain

A dozen years; within which space she died,

280 And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans

As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island—

Save for the son that she did litter here,

A freckled whelp hag-born—not honour’d with

A human shape.

285 Pros. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban,

Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know’st

What torment I did find thee in; thy groans

Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts

Of ever-angry bears: it was a torment

290 To lay upon the damn’d, which Sycorax

Could not again undo: it was mine art,

When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape

The pine, and let thee out.

Pros. If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oak,

295 And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till

Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters.

Ari.

Pardon, master:

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my spiriting gently.

Pros.

Do so; and after two days

I will discharge thee.

Ari.

That’s my noble master!

I. 2. 300 What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?

Pros. Go make thyself like a nymph o’ the sea:

Be subject to no sight but thine and mine; invisible

To every eyeball else. Go take this shape,

And hither come in’t: go, hence with diligence! Exit Ariel.

305 Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;

Awake!

Mir.

The strangeness of your story put

Heaviness in me.

Pros.

Shake it off. Come on;

We’ll visit Caliban my slave, who never

Yields us kind answer.

Mir.

’Tis a villain, sir,

I do not love to look on.

Pros.

310 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.

315 Pros. Come forth, I say! there’s other business for thee:

Come, thou tortoise! when?

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

Hark in thine ear.

Pros. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself

320 Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Cal. As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’d

With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen

Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye

And blister you all o’er!

I. 2. 325 Pros. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,

Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins

Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,

All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch’d

As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging

Than bees that made ’em.

Cal.

330 I must eat my dinner.

This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother,

Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,

Thou strokedst me, and madest much of me; wouldst give me

Water with berries in’t; and teach me how

335 To name the bigger light, and how the less,

That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee,

And show’d thee all the qualities o’ th’ isle,

The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile:

Curs’d be I that did so! All the charms

340 Of 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 me

In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me

The rest o’ th’ island.

Pros.

Thou most lying slave,

345 Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,

Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodged thee

In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate

The honour of my child.

Cal. O ho, O ho! would ’t had been done!

I. 2. 350 Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else

This isle with Calibans.

Pros.

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 hour

355 One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,

Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like

A thing most brutish, I endow’d thy purposes

With words that made them known. But thy vile race,

Though thou didst learn, had that in’t which good natures

360 Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou

Deservedly confined into this rock,

Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on’t

Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you

For learning me your language!

Pros.

365 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 unwillingly

What I command, I’ll rack thee with old cramps,

370 Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar,

That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

Cal.

No, pray thee.

[Aside] I must obey: his art is of such power,

It would control my dam’s god, Setebos,

And make a vassal of him.

I. 2. 375 Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:

Courtsied when you have and kiss’d

The wild waves whist:

Foot it featly here and there;

380 And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.

Burthen [dispersedly]. Hark, hark!

Bow-wow.

The watch-dogs bark:

Bow-wow.

Ari. Hark, hark! I hear

385 The strain of strutting chanticleer

Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

Fer. Where should this music be? i’ th’ air or th’ earth?

It sounds no more: and, sure, it waits upon

Some god o’ th’ island. Sitting on a bank,

390 Weeping again the king my father’s wreck,

This music crept by me upon the waters,

Allaying both their fury and my passion

With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it.

Or it hath drawn me rather. But ’tis gone.

395 No, it begins again.

Full fathom five thy father lies;

Of his bones are coral made;

Those are pearls that were his eyes:

Nothing of him that doth fade,

I. 2. 400 But doth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange.

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:

Burthen: Ding-dong.

405 Fer. The ditty does remember my drown’d father.

This is no mortal business, nor no sound

That the earth owes:—I hear it now above me.

Pros. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,

And say what thou seest yond.

Mir.

What is’t? a spirit?

410 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 senses

As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest

Was in the wreck; and, but he’s something stain’d

415 With grief, that’s beauty’s canker, thou mightst call him

A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,

And strays about to find ’em.

Mir.

I might call him

A thing divine; for nothing natural

I ever saw so noble.

Pros. [Aside]

It goes on, I see,

420 As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I’ll free thee

Within two days for this.

Fer.

Most sure, the goddess

On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer

May know if you remain upon this island;

And that you will some good instruction give

I. 2. 425 How 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.

430 How? the best?

What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?

Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders

To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;

And that he does I weep: myself am Naples,

435 Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld

The king my father wreck’d.

Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan

And his brave son being twain.

Pros. [Aside]

The Duke of Milan

And his more braver daughter could control thee,

440 If now ’twere fit to do’t. At the first sight

They have changed 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? This

445 Is the third man that e’er I saw; the first

That e’er I sigh’d for: pity move my father

To be inclined my way!

Fer.

O, if a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I’ll make you

The queen of Naples.

Pros.

Soft, sir! one word more.

I. 2. 450 [Aside] They are both in either’s powers: but this swift business

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

Make the prize light. [To Fer.] One word more; I charge thee

That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp

The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself

455 Upon this island as a spy, to win it

From me, the lord on’t.

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.

460 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 be

The fresh-brook muscles, wither’d roots, and husks

Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

Fer.

No;

465 I will resist such entertainment till

Mine enemy has more power. Draws, and is charmed from moving.

Mir.

O dear father,

Make not too rash a trial of him, for

He’s gentle, and not fearful.

Pros.

What! I say,

My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;

470 Who makest a show, but darest not strike, thy conscience

Is so possess’d with guilt: come from thy ward;

For I can here disarm thee with this stick

And make thy weapon drop.

Mir.

Sir, have pity;

I’ll be his surety.

Pros.

I. 2. 475 Silence! one word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!

An advocate for an impostor! hush!

Thou think’st there is no more such shapes as he,

Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!

480 To the most of men this is a Caliban,

And they to him are angels.

Mir.

My affections

Are, then, most humble; I have no ambition

To see a goodlier man.

Pros.

Come on; obey:

Thy nerves are in their infancy again,

And have no vigour in them.

Fer.

485 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 subdued, are but light to me,

490 Might I but through my prison once a day

Behold this maid: all corners else o’ th’ earth

Let liberty make use of; space enough

Have I in such a prison.

Pros. [Aside]

It works. [To Fer.] Come on.

Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To Fer.] Follow me.

[To Ari.] Hark what thou else shalt do me.

Mir.

495 Be of comfort;

My father’s of a better nature, sir,

Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted

Which now came from him.

Pros.

Thou shalt be as free

As mountain winds: but then exactly do

All points of my command.

Ari.

I. 2. 500 To the syllable.

Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,

So have we all, of joy; for our escape

Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe

Is common; every day, some sailor’s wife,

5 The masters of some merchant, and the merchant,

Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,

I mean our preservation, few in millions

Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh

Our sorrow with our comfort.

Gon. When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d,

Comes to the entertainer—

II. 1. 100 Alon. You cram these words into mine ears against

The stomach of my sense. Would I had never

Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,

My son is lost, and, in my rate, she too.

Who is so far from Italy removed

105 I ne’er again shall see her. O thou mine heir

Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish

Hath 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.

110 Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted

The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head

’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar’d

Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke

To the shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bow’d,

115 As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt

He came alive to land.

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;

120 Where she, at least, is banish’d from your eye,

Who hath cause to wet the grief on’t.

Seb. You were kneel’d to, and importuned otherwise,

By all of us; and the fair soul herself

Weigh’d between loathness and obedience, at

II. 1. 125 Which end o’ the beam should bow. We have lost your son,

I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have

More widows in them of this business’ making

Than we bring men to comfort them:

The fault’s your own.

130 Gon. My lord Sebastian,

The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,

And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,

When you should bring the plaster.

135 Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,

When you are cloudy.

Gon. I’ the commonwealth I would by contraries

Execute all things; for no kind of traffic

Would I admit; no name of magistrate;

Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,

145 And use of service, none; contract, succession,

Bourn, 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;

II. 1. 150 No sovereignty;—

Gon. All things in common nature should produce

Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,

155 Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,

Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,

Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,

To feed my innocent people.

Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir,

To excel the golden age.

Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes

Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find

They are inclined to do so.

Seb.

Please you, sir,

185 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.

Seb.

Why

Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not

Myself disposed to sleep.

Ant.

Nor I; my spirits are nimble.

They fell together all, as by consent;

195 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; and

My strong imagination sees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.

Seb.

I do; and surely

It is a sleepy language, and thou speak’st

Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?

This is a strange repose, to be asleep

205 With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,

And yet so fast asleep.

Ant.

Noble Sebastian,

Thou let’st thy fortune sleep—die, rather; wink’st

Whiles thou art waking.

Seb.

Thou dost snore distinctly;

There’s meaning in thy snores.

210 Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you

Must be so too, if heed me; which to do

Trebles thee o’er.

Seb.

Do so: to ebb

Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Ant.

O,

215 If you but knew how you the purpose cherish

Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,

You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,

Most often do so near the bottom run

By their own fear or sloth.

Seb.

Prithee, say on:

220 The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim

A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,

Which throes thee much to yield.

Ant.

Thus, sir:

Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,

Who shall be of as little memory

II. 1. 225 When he is earth’d, hath here almost persuaded,—

For he’s a spirit of persuasion, only

Professes to persuade,—the king his son’s alive,

’Tis as impossible that he’s undrown’d

As he that sleeps here swims.

Seb.

I have no hope

That he’s undrown’d.

Ant.

230 O, out of that ‘no hope’

What great hope have you! no hope that way is

Another way so high a hope that even

Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me

That Ferdinand is drown’d?

Ant.

235 Then, tell me,

Who’s the next heir of Naples?

Ant. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells

Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples

Can have no note, unless the sun were post,—

240 The man i’ the moon’s too slow,—till new-born chins

Be rough and razorable; she that from whom

We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again,

And by that destiny, to perform an act

Whereof what’s past is prologue; what to come,

In yours and my discharge.

Seb.

245 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 regions

There is some space.

Ant.

A space whose every cubit

Seems to cry out, “How shall that Claribel

II. 1. 250 Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,

And let Sebastian wake.” Say, this were death

That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse

Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples

As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate

255 As amply and unnecessarily

As this Gonzalo; I myself could make

A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore

The mind that I do! what a sleep were this

For your advancement! Do you understand me?

Ant.

260 And how does your content

Tender your own good fortune?

Seb.

I remember

You did supplant your brother Prospero.

Ant.

True:

And look how well my garments sit upon me;

Much feater than before: my brother’s servants

265 Were then my fellows; now they are my men.

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if ’twere a kibe,

’Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not

This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,

270 That stand ’twixt me and Milan, candied be they,

And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother,

No better than the earth he lies upon,

If he were that which now he’s like, that’s dead;

Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,

II. 1. 275 Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,

To the perpetual wink for aye might put

This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who

Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,

They’ll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;

280 They’ll tell the clock to any business that

We say befits the hour.

Seb.

Thy case, dear friend,

Shall be my precedent; as thou got’st Milan,

I’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke

Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;

And I the king shall love thee.

Ant.

285 Draw together;

And when I rear my hand, do you the like,

To fall it on Gonzalo.

Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger

That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth,—

290 For else his project dies,—to keep them living.

While you here do snoring lie,

Open-eyed conspiracy

His time doth take.

If of life you keep a care,

295 Shake off slumber, and beware:

Awake, awake!

Gon.

Now, good angels

Preserve the king! They wake.

Alon. Why, how now? ho, awake!—Why are you drawn?

Wherefore this ghastly looking?

Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,

Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing

Like bulls, or rather lions: did’t not wake you?

It struck mine ear most terribly.

305 Ant. O, ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear,

To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar

Of a whole herd of lions.

Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,

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

310 I shaked 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 search

For my poor son.

Gon.

315 Heavens keep him from these beasts!

For he is, sure, i’ th’ island.

Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:

So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. Exeunt.

Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up

From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him

By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,

And yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch,

5 Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i’ the mire,

Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark

Out of my way, unless he bid ’em: but

For every trifle are they set upon me;

Sometime like apes, that mow and chatter at me,

10 And after bite me; then like hedgehogs, which

Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount

Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I

All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues

Do hiss me into madness.

Lo, now, lo!

15 Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me

For bringing wood in slowly. I’ll fall flat;

Perchance he will not mind me.

40 Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea,

Here shall I die a-shore,—

[Sings. The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,

45 The gunner, and his mate,

Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,

But none of us cared for Kate;

For she had a tongue with a tang,

Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!

II. 2. 50 She loved 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 hang!

Cal. [aside] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites.

That’s a brave god, and bears celestial liquor:

110 I will kneel to him.

Cal. I’ll show thee every fertile inch o’ th’ island;

And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god.

II. 2. 150 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.

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 how

160 To snare the nimble marmoset; I’ll bring thee

To clustering filberts, and sometimes I’ll get thee

Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

Cal. No more dams I’ll make for fish;

170 Nor fetch in firing

At requiring;

Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish:

’Ban, ’Ban, Cacaliban

Has a new master:—get a new man.

Fer. There be some sports are painful, and their labour

Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness

Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters

Point to rich ends. This my mean task

5 Would be as heavy to me as odious, but

The mistress which I serve quickens what’s dead,

And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is

Ten times more gentle than her father’s crabbed.

And he’s composed of harshness. I must remove

10 Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,

Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress

Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness

Had never like executor. I forget:

But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,

Most busy lest, when I do it.

Mir.

15 Alas, now, pray you,

Work not so hard: I would the lightning had

Burnt 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 father

20 Is hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself;

He’s safe for these three hours.

Fer.

O most dear mistress,

The sun will set before I shall discharge

What 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.

III. 1. 25 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 me

As well as it does you: and I should do it

30 With much more ease; for my good will is to it,

And yours it is against.

Pros.

Poor worm, thou art infected!

This visitation shows it.

Fer. No, noble mistress; ’tis fresh morning with me

When you are by at night. I do beseech you,—

35 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.

Admired Miranda!

Indeed the top of admiration! worth

What’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady

40 I have eyed with best regard, and many a time

The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage

Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues

Have I liked several women; never any

With so full soul, but some defect in her

45 Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed,

And put it to the foil: but you, O you,

So perfect and so peerless, are created

Of every creature’s best!

Mir.

I do not know

One of my sex; no woman’s face remember,

III. 1. 50 Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen

More that I may call men than you, good friend,

And my dear father: how features are abroad,

I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,

The jewel in my dower, I would not wish

55 Any companion in the world but you;

Nor can imagination form a shape,

Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle

Something too wildly, and my father’s precepts

I therein do forget.

Fer.

I am, in my condition,

60 A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;

I would, not so!—and would no more endure

This wooden slavery than to suffer

The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak:

The very instant that I saw you, did

65 My heart fly to your service; there resides,

To make me slave to it; and for your sake

Am I this patient log-man.

Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound,

And crown what I profess with kind event,

70 If I speak true! if hollowly, invert

What best is boded me to mischief! I,

Beyond all limit of what else i’ the world,

Do love, prize, honour you.

Mir.

I am a fool

To weep at what I am glad of.

Pros.

Fair encounter

III. 1. 75 Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace

On that which breeds between ’em!

Mir. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer

What I desire to give; and much less take

What I shall die to want. But this is trifling;

80 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 fellow

85 You may deny me; but I’ll be your servant,

Whether you will or no.

Fer.

My mistress, dearest;

And I thus humble ever.

Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing

As bondage e’er of freedom: here’s my hand.

90 Mir. And mine, with my heart in’t: and now farewell

Till half an hour hence.

Pros. So glad of this as they I cannot be,

Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing

At nothing can be more. I’ll to my book;

95 For yet, ere supper-time, must I perform

Much business appertaining. Exit.

Cal.

Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou:

I would my valiant master would destroy thee!

I do not lie.

Cal. I say, by sorcery he got this isle;

III. 2. 50 From me he got it. If thy greatness will

Revenge it on him,—for I know thou darest,

But this thing dare not,—

Cal. Yea, yea, my lord: I’ll yield him thee asleep,

Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.

60 Cal. What a pied ninny’s this! Thou scurvy patch!

I do beseech thy Greatness, give him blows,

And take his bottle from him: when that’s gone,

He shall drink nought but brine; for I’ll not show him

Where the quick freshes are.

Cal. Why, as I told thee, ’tis a custom with him

I’ th’ afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him,

85 Having first seized his books; or with a log

Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,

Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember

First to possess his books; for without them

He’s but a sot, as I am, nor hath not

90 One spirit to command: they all do hate him

As 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 is

95 The beauty of his daughter; he himself

Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman,

But only Sycorax my dam and she;

But she as far surpasseth Sycorax

As great’st does least.

III. 2. 100 Cal. Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant,

And bring thee forth brave brood.

Cal. Within this half hour will he be asleep:

Wilt thou destroy him then?

Cal. Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure:

Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch

You taught me but while-ere?

Flout ’em and scout ’em, and scout ’em and flout ’em;

Thought is free.

130 Cal. Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,

Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.

Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments

Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,

That, if I then had waked after long sleep,

135 Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,

The clouds methought would open, and show riches

Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,

I cried to dream again.

Gon. By’r lakin, I can go no further, sir;

My old bones ache: here’s a maze trod, indeed,

Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience,

I needs must rest me.

Alon.

Old lord, I cannot blame thee,

5 Who am myself attach’d with weariness,

To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest.

Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it

No longer for my flatterer: he is drown’d

Whom thus we stray to find; and the sea mocks

10 Our 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 purpose

That you resolved to effect.

Seb. [Aside to Ant.]

The next advantage

Will we take throughly.

Ant. [Aside to Seb.]

Let it be to-night;

15 For, now they are oppress’d with travel, they

Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance

As when they are fresh.

Seb. A living drollery. Now I will believe

That there are unicorns; that in Arabia

There is one tree, the phœnix’ throne; one phœnix

At this hour reigning there.

Ant.

I’ll believe both;

III. 3. 25 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 Naples

I should report this now, would they believe me?

If I should say, I saw such islanders,—

30 For, certes, these are people of the island,—

Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note,

Their manners are more gentle-kind than of

Our human generation you shall find

Many, nay, almost any.

Pros. [Aside]

Honest lord,

35 Thou hast said well; for some of you there present

Are worse than devils.

Alon.

I cannot too much muse

Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing—

Although they want the use of tongue—a kind

Of excellent dumb discourse.

Seb.

40 No matter, since

They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.—

Will’t please you taste of what is here?

Gon. Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,

Who would believe that there were mountaineers

45 Dew-lapp’d like bulls, whose throats had hanging at ’em

Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men

Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find

Each putter-out of five for one will bring us

Good warrant of.

Alon.

I will stand to, and feed,

III. 3. 50 Although my last: no matter, since I feel

The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke,

Stand to, and do as we.

Ari. You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,—

That hath to instrument this lower world

55 And what is in’t,—the never-surfeited sea

Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island,

Where man doth not inhabit,—you ’mongst men

Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad;

And even with such-like valour men hang and drown

Their proper selves. Alon., Seb. &c. draw their swords.

60 You fools! I and my fellows

Are ministers of Fate: the elements,

Of whom your swords are temper’d, may as well

Wound the loud winds, or with bemock’d-at stabs

Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish

65 One dowle that’s in my plume: my fellow-ministers

Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,

Your swords are now too massy for your strengths,

And will not be uplifted. But remember,—

For that’s my business to you,—that you three

70 From Milan did supplant good Prospero;

Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it,

Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed

The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have

Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,

III. 3. 75 Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,

They have bereft; and do pronounce by me:

Lingering perdition—worse than any death

Can be at once—shall step by step attend

You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from,—

80 Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls

Upon your heads,—is nothing but heart-sorrow

And a clear life ensuing.

Pros. Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou

Perform’d, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring:

85 Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated

In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life

And observation strange, my meaner ministers

Their several kinds have done. My high charms work,

And these mine enemies are all knit up

90 In their distractions: they now are in my power;

And in these fits I leave them, while I visit

Young Ferdinand,—whom they suppose is drown’d,—

And his and mine loved darling. Exit above.

Gon. I’ the name of something holy, sir, why stand you

In this strange stare?

Alon.

95 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, pronounced

The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.

III. 3. 100 Therefore my son i’ th’ ooze is bedded; and

I’ll seek him deeper than e’er plummet sounded,

And with him there lie mudded. Exit.

Seb.

But one fiend at a time,

I’ll fight their legions o’er.

Ant.

I’ll be thy second.

Gon. All three of them are desperate: their great guilt,

105 Like poison given to work a great time after,

Now ’gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you,

That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly,

And hinder them from what this ecstasy

May now provoke them to.

Adr.

Follow, I pray you. Exeunt.

Pros. If I have too austerely punish’d you,

Your compensation makes amends; for I

Have given you here a third of mine own life,

Or that for which I live; who once again

5 I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations

Were but my trials of thy love, and thou

Hast 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,

10 For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise,

And make it halt behind her.

Fer.

I do believe it

Against an oracle.

Pros. Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition

Worthily purchased, take my daughter: but

15 If thou dost break her virgin-knot before

All sanctimonious ceremonies may

With full and holy rite be minister’d,

No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall

To make this contract grow; but barren hate,

20 Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew

The union of your bed with weeds so loathly

That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed,

As Hymen’s lamps shall light you.

Fer.

As I hope

For quiet days, fair issue and long life,

IV. 1. 25 With such love as ’tis now, the murkiest den,

The most opportune place, the strong’st suggestion

Our worser Genius can, shall never melt

Mine honour into lust, to take away

The edge of that day’s celebration

30 When I shall think, or Phœbus’ steeds are founder’d,

Or Night kept chain’d below.

Pros.

Fairly spoke.

Sit, then, and talk with her; she is thine own.

What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!

35 Pros. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service

Did worthily perform; and I must use you

In 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 must

40 Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple

Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise,

And they expect it from me.

Ari. Before you can say, ‘come,’ and ‘go,’

45 And breathe twice, and cry, ‘so, so,’

Each one, tripping on his toe,

Will be here with mop and mow.

Do you love me, master? no?

Pros. Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach

Till thou dost hear me call.

Ari.

IV. 1. 50 Well, I conceive. Exit.

Pros. Look thou be true; do not give dalliance

Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw

To the fire i’ the blood: be more abstemious,

Or else, good night your vow!

Fer.

I warrant you, sir;

55 The white cold virgin snow upon my heart

Abates the ardour of my liver.

Pros.

Well.

Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary,

Rather than want a spirit: appear, and pertly!

No tongue! all eyes! be silent. Soft music.

Fer. This is a most majestic vision, and

Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold

To think these spirits?

Pros.

120 Spirits, which by mine art

I have from their confines call’d to enact

My present fancies.

Fer.

Let me live here ever;

So rare a wonder’d father and a wife

Makes this place Paradise.

Pros.

Sweet, now, silence!

IV. 1. 125 Juno and Ceres whisper seriously;

There’s something else to do: hush, and be mute,

Or else our spell is marr’d.

Pros. [Aside] I had forgot that foul conspiracy

140 Of the beast Caliban and his confederates

Against my life: the minute of their plot

Is almost come. [To the Spirits.] Well done! avoid; no more!

Fer. This is strange: your father’s in some passion

That works him strongly.

Mir.

Never till this day

145 Saw I him touch’d with anger so distemper’d.

Pros. You do look, my son, in a moved sort,

As if you were dismay’d: be cheerful, sir.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,

As I foretold you, were all spirits, and

IV. 1. 150 Are 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 dissolve,

155 And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,

Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff

As dreams are made on; and our little life

Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex’d;

Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled:

160 Be not disturb’d with my infirmity:

If you be pleased, retire into my cell,

And there repose: a turn or two I’ll walk,

To still my beating mind.

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’d

Lest I might anger thee.

Ari. I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;

So full of valour that they smote the air

For breathing in their faces; beat the ground

For kissing of their feet; yet always bending

IV. 1. 175 Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor;

At which, like unback’d colts, they prick’d their ears,

Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses

As they smelt music: so I charm’d their ears,

That, calf-like, they my lowing follow’d through

180 Tooth’d briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns,

Which enter’d their frail shins: at last I left them

I’ the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,

There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake

O’erstunk their feet.

Pros.

This was well done, my bird.

185 Thy shape invisible retain thou still:

The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither,

For stale to catch these thieves.

Ari.

I go, I go. Exit.

Pros. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature

Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,

190 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.

Cal. Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not

195 Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell.

Cal. Good my lord, give me thy favour still.

Be patient, for the prize I’ll bring thee to

205 Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly.

All’s hush’d as midnight yet.

Cal. Prithee, my king, be quiet. See’st thou here,

215 This is the mouth o’ the cell: no noise, and enter.

Do that good mischief which may make this island

Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,

For aye thy foot-licker.

Cal. The dropsy drown this fool! what do you mean

230 To dote thus on such luggage? Let’s alone,

And do the murder first: if he awake,

From toe to crown he’ll fill our skins with pinches,

Make us strange stuff.

245 Cal. I will have none on’t: we shall lose our time,

And all be turn’d to barnacles, or to apes

With foreheads villanous low.

255 Pros. Fury, fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark, hark!

Cal., Ste., and Trin. are driven out.

Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints

With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews

With aged cramps; and more pinch-spotted make them

Then pard or cat o’ mountain.

260 Pros. Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour

Lie at my mercy all mine enemies:

Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou

Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little

Follow, and do me service. Exeunt.

Pros. Now does my project gather to a head:

My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time

Goes upright with his carriage. How’s the day?

Ari. On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,

You said our work should cease.

Pros.

5 I did say so,

When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,

How fares the king and’s followers?

Ari.

Confined together

In the same fashion as you gave in charge,

Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,

10 In the line-grove which weather-fends 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 chiefly

15 Him that you term’d, sir, “The good old lord, Gonzalo;”

His tears run down his beard, like winter’s drops

From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works ’em,

That if you now beheld them, your affections

Would become tender.

Pros.

20 And mine shall.

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling

Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,

One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,

Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art?

V. 1. 25 Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,

Yet with my nobler reason ’gainst my fury

Do I take part: the rarer action is

In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent,

The sole drift of my purpose doth extend

30 Not 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 foot

35 Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him

When he comes back; you demi-puppets that

By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,

Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime

Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice

40 To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid—

Weak masters though ye be—I have bedimm’d

The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds.

And ’twixt the green sea and the azured vault

Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder

45 Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak

With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory

Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck’d up

The pine and cedar: graves at my command

Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let ’em forth

V. 1. 50 By my so potent art. But this rough magic

I here abjure; and, when I have required

Some heavenly music,—which even now I do,—

To work mine end upon their senses, that

This airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff,

55 Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,

And deeper than did ever plummet sound

I’ll drown my book. Solemn music.

A solemn air, and the best comforter

To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains,

60 Now useless, boil’d within thy skull! There stand,

For you are spell-stopp’d.

Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,

Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine,

Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace;

65 And as the morning steals upon the night,

Melting the darkness, so their rising senses

Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle

Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,

My true preserver, and a loyal sir

70 To him thou follow’st! I will pay thy graces

Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly

Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter:

Thy brother was a furtherer in the act.

Thou art pinch’d for’t now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood,

V. 1. 75 You, brother mine, that entertain’d ambition,

Expell’d remorse and nature; who, 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 understanding

80 Begins to swell; and the approaching tide

Will shortly fill the reasonable shore,

That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them

That yet looks on me, or would know me: Ariel,

Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell:

85 I will discase me, and myself present

As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit;

Thou shalt ere long be free.

Where the bee sucks, there suck I:

In a cowslip’s bell I lie;

90 There I couch when owls do cry.

On the bat’s back I do fly

After summer merrily.

Merrily, merrily shall I live now

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

95 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 asleep

Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain

V. 1. 100 Being awake, enforce them to this place,

And presently, I prithee.

Ari. I drink the air before me, and return

Or ere your pulse twice beat. Exit.

Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement

105 Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us

Out of this fearful country!

Pros.

Behold, sir king,

The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero:

For more assurance that a living prince

Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;

110 And to thee and thy company I bid

A hearty welcome.

Alon.

Whether thou be’st he or no,

Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,

As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse

Beats, as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,

115 The affliction of my mind amends, with which,

I fear, a madness held me: this must crave—

An if this be at all—a most strange story.

Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreat

Thou pardon me my wrongs.—But how should Prospero

Be living and be here?

Pros.

120 First, noble friend,

Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot

Be measured or confined.

Gon.

Whether this be

Or be not, I’ll not swear.

Pros.

You do yet taste

Some subtilties o’ the isle, that will not let you

V. 1. 125 Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all!

[Aside to Seb. and Ant.] But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded,

I here could pluck his Highness’ frown upon you,

And justify you traitors: at this time

I will tell no tales.

Pros.

No.

130 For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother

Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive

Thy rankest fault,—all of them; and require

My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,

Thou must restore.

Alon.

If thou be’st Prospero,

135 Give us particulars of thy preservation;

How thou hast met us here, who three hours since

Were wreck’d upon this shore; where I have lost—

How sharp the point of this remembrance is!—

My dear son Ferdinand.

140 Alon. Irreparable is the loss; and patience

Says it is past her cure.

Pros.

I rather think

You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace

For the like loss I have her sovereign aid,

And rest myself content.

145 Pros. As great to me as late; and, supportable

To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker

Than you may call to comfort you, for I

Have lost my daughter.

Alon.

A daughter?

O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,

V. 1. 150 The king and queen there! that they were, I wish

Myself were mudded in that oozy bed

Where my son lies. When did you lose you daughter?

Pros. In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords

At this encounter do so much admire,

155 That they devour their reason, and scarce think

Their eyes do offices of truth, their words

Are natural breath: but, howsoe’er you have

Been justled from your senses, know for certain

That I am Prospero, and that very duke

160 Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely

Upon 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,

Not a relation for a breakfast, nor

165 Befitting 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;

170 At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye

As much as me my dukedom.

Fer.

No, my dear’st 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.

V. 1. 175 If this prove

A vision of the island, one dear son

Shall I twice lose.

Fer. Though the seas threaten, they are merciful;

I have cursed them without cause. Kneels.

Alon.

Now all the blessings

180 Of a glad father compass thee about!

Arise, and say how thou camest 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!

185 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:

190 I chose her when I could not ask my father

For his advice, nor thought I had one. She

Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan,

Of whom so often I have heard renown,

But never saw before; of whom I have

195 Received a second life; and second father

This lady makes him to me.

Alon.

I am hers:

But, O, how oddly will it sound that I

Must ask my child forgiveness!

Pros.

There, sir, stop:

Let us not burthen our remembrances with

A heaviness that’s gone.

Gon.

V. 1. 200 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 way

Which brought us hither.

205 Gon. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue

Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice

Beyond a common joy! and set it down

With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage

Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis,

210 And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife

Where he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedom

In a poor isle, and all of us ourselves

When no man was his own.

Alon. [to Fer. and Mir.]

Give me your hands:

Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart

That doth not wish you joy!

O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us:

I prophesied, if a gallows were on land,

This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy,

That swear’st grace o’erboard, not an oath on shore?

220 Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?

Boats. The best news is, that we have safely found

Our king and company; the next, our ship—

Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split—

Is tight and yare and bravely rigg’d, as when

We first put out to sea.

V. 1. 225 Ari. [Aside to Pros.]

Sir, all this service

Have I done since I went.

Alon. These are not natural events; they strengthen

From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither?

Boats. If I did think, sir, I were well awake,

230 I’ld 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 noises

Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains,

And more diversity of sounds, all horrible,

235 We were awaked; straightway, at liberty;

Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld

Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master

Capering to eye her:—on a trice, so please you,

Even in a dream, were we divided from them,

And were brought moping hither.

Alon. This is as strange a maze as e’er men trod;

And there is in this business more than nature

Was ever conduct of: some oracle

Must rectify our knowledge.

Pros.

245 Sir, my liege,

Do not infest your mind with beating on

The strangeness of this business; at pick’d leisure

Which shall be shortly, single I’ll resolve you,

Which to you shall seem probable, of every

V. 1. 250 These happen’d accidents; till when, be cheerful,

And think of each thing well. [Aside to Ari.] Come hither, spirit:

Set Caliban and his companions free;

Untie the spell. [Exit Ariel.] How fares my gracious sir?

There are yet missing of your company

255 Some few odd lads that you remember not.

Cal. O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed!

How fine my master is! I am afraid

He will chastise me.

Seb.

Ha, ha!

What things are these, my lord Antonio?

Will money buy ’em?

Ant.

265 Very like; one of them

Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.

Pros. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords,

Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave,

His mother was a witch; and one so strong

270 That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,

And deal in her command, without her power.

These three have robb’d me; and this demi-devil—

For he’s a bastard one—had plotted with them

To take my life. Two of these fellows you

V. 1. 275 Must know and own; this thing of darkness I

Acknowledge mine.

Alon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they 280

Find this grand liquor that hath gilded ’em?—

How camest thou in this pickle?

290 Pros. He is as disproportion’d in his manners

As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell;

Take with you your companions; as you look

To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.

Cal. Ay, that I will; and I’ll be wise hereafter,

295 And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass

Was I, to take this drunkard for a god,

And worship this dull fool!

V. 1. 300 Pros. Sir, I invite your Highness and your train

To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest

For this one night; which, part of it, I’ll waste

With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it

Go quick away: the story of my life,

305 And the particular accidents gone by

Since I came to this isle: and in the morn

I’ll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,

Where I have hope to see the nuptial

Of these our dear-beloved solemnized;

310 And thence retire me to my Milan, where

Every third thought shall be my grave.

Alon.

I long

To hear the story of your life, which must

Take the ear strangely.

Pros.

I’ll deliver all;

And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,

And sail so expeditious, that shall catch

315 Your royal fleet far off. [Aside to Ari.] My Ariel, chick,

That is thy charge: then to the elements

Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near.

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 confined by you,

5 Or sent to Naples. Let me not,

Since I have my dukedom got,

And pardon’d the deceiver, dwell

In this bare island by your spell;

But release me from my bands

10 With the help of your good hands:

Gentle breath of yours my sails

Must fill, or else my project fails,

Which was to please. Now I want

Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;

15 And my ending is despair,

Unless I be relieved by prayer,

Which pierces so, that it assaults

Mercy itself, and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardon’d be,

20 Let your indulgence set me free.