Mira.
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 th' welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O! I have suffer'd,
With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel
(Who had, no doubt, some noble creatures in her)
Dash'd all to pieces. O! the cry did knock
Against my very heart: poor souls, they perish'd!
Had I been any God of Pow'r, I should
Have sunk the sea within the earth, or ere
It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and
The fraighting souls within her† ^note.

Pro.
Be collected;
No more amazement; tell your piteous heart,
There's no harm done.

Mira.
O woe the day!

Pro.
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‡ ^note,

Than Prospero, master of a full-poor cell,
And thy no greater father.

Mira.
More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.

Pro.
'Tis time,
I 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'd
The real virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art,
So safely order'd, that there is no soul lost,
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: attend;
For thou must now know farther.

Mira.
You have often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt,
And left me to a bootless inquisition;
Concluding, Stay, not yet.—

Pro.
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?
I do not think, thou canst; for then thou wast not
Out three years old.

Mira.
Certainly, sir, I can.

Pro.
By what? by any other house, or person?
Of any thing the image tell me, that
Hath kept in thy remembrance* ^note.

Mira.
'Tis far off;
And rather like a dream, than an assurance,
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
Four or five women, once, that tended me?

Pro.
Thou hadst, and more, Miranda: but how is it,
That this lives in thy mind? what seest thou else,

In the dark back-ward and abysme of time?
If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here;
How thou cam'st here, thou may'st.

Mira.
But that I do not.

Pro.
'Tis twelve years since, Miranda; twelve years since,
Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and
A Prince of pow'r.

Mira.
Sir, are not you my father?

Pro.
Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
She said, thou wast my daughter; and thy father
Was Duke of Milan, and thou his only heir
A Princess, no worse issu'd.

Mira.
O, the heav'ns!
What foul play had we, that we came from thence?
Or blessed was't, we did?

Pro.
Both, both, my girl:
By foul play (as thou say'st) were we heav'd thence
But blessedly help'd hither.

Mira.
O, my heart bleeds
To think o'th' teene that I have turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.

Pro.
My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Anthonio—
I pray thee, mark me;—(that a brother should* ^note
Be so perfidious!) he whom next thyself
Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put
The manage of my state; (as, at that time,
Through all the signiories 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:)
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?)

Mira.
Sir, most heedfully.

Pro.
I pray thee, mark me, then.
He being thus lorded,

Not only with what my revenue yielded,
But what my power might else exact; like one,
Who having unto truth, by telling oft;
Made such a sinner of his memory,
To credit his own lie, he did believe
He was, indeed, the Duke; from substitution,
And executing th'outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative. Hence his ambition growing—
Dost thou hear?

Mira.
Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

Pro.
To have no screen between this part he playd,
And him he playd it for, he needs will be
Absolute Milan. Me, poor man!—my library
Was Dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties
He thinks me now incapable: confederates
(* ^noteSo dry he was for sway) wi'th' King of Naples
To give him annual tribute, do him homage;
Subject his coronet to his crown; and bend
The Dukedom, yet unbow'd, (alas, poor Milan!)
To most ignoble stooping.

Mira.
O the heav'ns!

Pro.
Mark his condition, and th'event; then tell me
If this might be a Brother?

Mira.
I should sin,
To think but nobly of my grandmother.

Pro.
Now the condition:
This King of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearks my brother's suit;
Which was, that he in lieu o'th' premises,
Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,
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 levy'd, one mid-night,
† ^noteFated to th' purpose, did Anthonio open

The gates of Milan; and, i'th' dead of darkness,
The ministers for the purpose hurry'd thence
Me, and thy crying self.

Mira.
Alack, for pity!
I, not remembring how I cry'd out then.
Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint,
That wrings mine eyes to't.

Pro.
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.

Mira.
Why did they not
That hour destroy us?

Pro.
Well demanded, wench;
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not
(So dear the love my people bore me) set
A mark so bloody on the business; but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurry'd us aboard a bark;
Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd
A rotten carcase of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,
To cry to th' sea, that roar'd to us; to sigh
To th' winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong* ^note.

Mira.
Alack! what trouble
Was I then to you?

Pro.
O! a cherubim† ^note
Thou wast, that did preserve me: Thou didst smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heav'n,
(When I have deck'd the sea with drops full-salt;
Under my burden groan'd;) which rais'd in me
An undergoing stomach, to bear up
Against what should ensue.

Mira.
How came we ashore?

Pro.
By providence divine.
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity (being then appointed
Master of this design) did give us, with
Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,
Which since have steaded much. So of his gentleness,
Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me
From my own library, with volumes that
I prize above my Dukedom.

Mira.
Would I might
But ever see that man!

Pro.
Now, attend:—
And hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this island we arriv'd, and here
Have I, thy school-master, made thee more profit,
Than other Princes can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

Mira.
Heav'ns thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir,
(For still 'tis beating in my mind) your reason,
For raising this sea-storm?

Pro.
Know thus far forth,
By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune
(Now my dear lady) hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore: and, by my prescience* ^note,
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;
Thou art inclin'd to sleep. 'Tis a good dulness,
And give it way; I know, thou canst not chuse— [Aside. [Miranda sleeps.
Come away, servant, come; I'm ready, now;
Aproach, my Ariel, come.

Enter Ariel* ^note.

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

Pro.
Hast thou, spirit,
Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?

Ari.
To every article.
I boarded the King's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waste, the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd amazement. Sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the top mast,
The yards, and bolt-sprit, would I flame distinctly;
Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursers
Or dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight out-running, were not; the fire and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble;
Yea, his dread trident shake.

Pro.
My brave, brave spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coyl
Would not infect his reason?

Ari.
Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mind, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation: all, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the King's son Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair)
Was the first man, that leap'd; cry'd, “Hell is empty;
“And all the devils are here.”

Pro.
Why, that's my Spirit!
But was not this nigh shore?

Ari.
Close by, my Master.

Pro.
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 badst 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 sighs,
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot.

Pro.
Of the King's ship
The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd,
And all the rest o'th' 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-vext Bermudas, there she's hid:
The mariners all under hatches stow'd,
Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
I've left asleep; and for the rest o'th' fleet,
(Which I dispers'd) they all have met again,
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples;
Supposing, that they saw the King's ship wreckt,
And his great person perish.

Pro.
Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work.
What is the time o'th' day?

Ari.
Past the mid season.

Pro.
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 promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me.

Pro.
How now! moody?
What is't thou canst demand?

Ari.
My liberty.

Pro.
Before the time be out? no more.

Ari.
I pr'ythee,
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd

Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou didst promise
To bate me a full year* ^note.

Pro.
Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?

Ari.
No.

Pro.
Thou ly'st, 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.

Pro.
Thou hast: where was she born? speak; tell me.

Ari.
Sir, in Argier.

Pro.
Oh, 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,
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.

Pro.
This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,
And here was left by th'sailors; thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, was 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,
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 dy'd,
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* ^note.

Ari.
Yes; Caliban her son.

Pro.
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
To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax,
Could not again undo: it was mine art,
When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.

Ari.
I thank thee, master.

Pro.
If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak,
And peg thee in his knotty entrails, 'till
Thou'st howl'd away twelve winters.

Ari.
Pardon, master.
I will be correspondent to command,
And do my sp'riting gently.

Pro.
Do so: and, after two days,
I will discharge thee.

Ari.
That's my noble master:
What shall I do? say what? what shall I do?

Pro.
Go make thyself like to a nymph o'th' sea.
Be subject to no sight, but mine: invisible
To every eye-ball else. Go take this shape,
And hither come in it: go hence with diligence. [Exit Ariel.
Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;
Awake—

Mira.
The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

Pro.
Shake it off: come on;
I'll visit Caliban my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.

Mira.
'Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on—

Pro.
But, as 'tis,
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices
That profit us. [Ex. Miranda] What hoa; slave! Caliban!
Thou earth thou! speak.

Cal. [within.]
There's wood enough within.

Pro.
Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee.
Come, thou tortoise! when?— Enter Ariel, like a Water Nymph.
Fine apparition! my quaint Ariel,
Hark in thine ear.

Ari.
My Lord, it shall be done. [Exit.

Pro.
Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself,
Upon thy wicked dam, come forth. Enter Caliban* ^note.

Cal.
As wicked dew, as e'er my mother brush'd,
With raven's feather from unwholsom fen,
Drop on you both! a south-west blow on you,
And blister you all o'er!

Pro.
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 honey-combs, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made 'em.

Cal.
I must eat my dinner.
This Island's mine by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest first,
Thou stroak'd'st me, and mad'st much of me; and would'st give me

Water with berries in't; and teach me how
To name the bigger light, and how the less,
That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee,
And shew'd thee all the qualities o'th' Isle,
The fresh springs, brine pits; barren place, and fertile.
Curs'd be I, that I did so! all the charms
Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
For I am all the Subjects that you have,
Who first was mine own King; and here you sty me,
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest of th' Island.

Pro.
Thou most lying slave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness; I have us'd thee
(Filth as thou art) with humane care, and lodg'd
In mine own cell, 'till thou didst seek to violate
The honour of my child.

Cal.
Oh ho, oh ho!—I would it had been done!
Thou didst prevent me, I had peopled else
This Isle with Calibans.

Pro.
Abhorred slave* ^note!
Which any print of goodness wilt not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pity'd thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee, each hour,
One thing or other. When thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes,
With words that made them known.

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!

Pro.
Hag-seed, hence!
Fetch us in fewel, and be quick (thou wert 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;

Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar,
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

Cal.
No, 'pray thee.
I must obey; his art is of such pow'r,
It would control my dam's god Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.

Pro.
So, slave, hence! [Exit Caliban. Enter Ferdinand, and Ariel invisible, playing and singing.
ARIEL's SONG.
  Come unto these yellow sands,
  And then take hands:
  Curt'sied when you have, and kist,
  The wild waves whist;
Foot it featly here and there,
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. [Burden dispersedly.
Hark, hark, bough-waugh: the watch-dogs bark,
  Baugh waugh.

Ari.
Hark, hark, I hear
The strain of strutting chanticlere,
  Cry, Cock-a-doodle-do. A Dance of Spririts.

Fer.
Where should this musick be, i'th' air, or earth?—
It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon
Some God o'th' Island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the King my father's wreck,
This musick 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. [Musick plays.
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 fade,

  But doth suffer a sea-change,
  Into something rich and strange.
  Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell.
Hark, now I hear them, ding-dong, bell. [Burden: ding dong.

Fer.
The ditty does remember my drown'd father;
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owns [Music again.] I hear it now above me. [Exit Ferd. and Ariel. Scene SCENE. Another part of the Island. Enter Ariel and Ferd. on one side; and Prospero and Miranda, on the other.

Pro.
The fringed curtains of thine eyes advance,
And say, what thou see'st yond.

Mira.
What is't, a spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form. But is't a spirit* ^note?

Pro.
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
With grief, (that's beauty's canker) thou might'st call him
A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows,
And strays about to find 'em.

Mira.
I might call him
A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

Pro.
It goes on, I see, [Aside.
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 pray'r
May know, if you remain upon this island:
And that you will some good instruction give,

How I may bear me here: my prime request
(Which I do last pronounce) is, O you wonder!
If you be maid or no?

Mira.
No wonder, sir,
But certainly a maid.

Fer.
My language! heav'ns!
I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken.

Pro.
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,
Who, with mine eyes (ne'er since at ebb) beheld
The King my father wreckt.

Mira.
Alack, for mercy!

Fer.
Yes, faith, and all his Lords: the Duke of Milan,
And his brave Son, being twain.

Pro.
The Duke of Milan,
And his more brave daughter, could control thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't:—At the first sight, [To Ariel.
They have chang'd eyes:
A word, good sir,
I fear, you've done yourself some wrong: a word—

Mira.
Why speaks my father, so urgently? this
Is the third man that I e'er saw; the first,
That e'er I sigh'd for. Pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way* ^note!

Fer.
O, if a virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The Queen of Naples,

Pro.
Soft, sir; one word more—
They're both in either's power: but this swift business [Aside.
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
Make the prize light. Sir, one word more; I charge thee,

That thou attend me:—thou dost here usurp
The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thyself
Upon this Island, as a spy, to win it
From me, the Lord on't.

Fer.
No, as I'm a man.

Mira.
There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.
If the ill spirit have so fair an house,
Good things will strive to dwell with't.

Pro.
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 be
The fresh-brook mussels, wither'd root, and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

Fer.
No,
I will resist such entertainment, 'till
Mine enemy has more power. [He draws, and is charm'd from moving.

Mira.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him; for
He's gentle, and not fearful.

Pro.
What, I say,
My foot my tutor? put thy sword up, traitor,
Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike; thy conscience
Is so possest with guilt: come from thy ward,
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.

Mira.
Beseech you, father. [Kneels.

Pro.
Hence: hang not on my garment.

Mira.
Sir, have pity;
I'll be his surety.

Pro.
Silence: one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an impostor? hush!
Thou think'st there are no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban; foolish wench!
To th' most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels* ^note.

Mira.
My affections
Are then most humble: I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

Pro.
Come on, obey;
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And 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, and this man's threats,
To whom I am subdu'd, were but light to me,
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.

Pro.
It works: come on.
(Thou hast done well, fine Ariel:) follow me.
Hark what thou else shalt do me. [To Ariel.

Mira.
Be of comfort,
My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted.
Which now came from him.

Pro.
Thou shalt be as free,
As mountain winds; but then exactly do
All points of my command.

Ari.
To th' syllable.

Pro.
Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt.* ^note

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