DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

[Spirit]

Nymphs, Spirits, attending on Prospero, &c., &c.

Alonso, (King of Naples)	Mr. COOPER.
Sebastian, (his brother)	Mr. RAYMOND.
Prospero, (the rightful Duke of Milan)	Mr. CHARLES KEAN
Antonio, (his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan)	Mr. J. F. CATHCART.
Ferdinand, (Son to the King of Naples)	Miss BUFTON.
Gonzalo, (an honest old Counsellor of Naples)	Mr. GRAHAM.
Adrian, (Lord)	Mr. BARSBY.
Francisco, (Lord)	Mr. BRAZIER.
Caliban, (a Savage and Deformed Slave)	Mr. RYDER.
Trinculo, (a Jester)	Mr. HARLEY.
Stephano, (a Drunken Butler)	Mr. FRANK MATTHEWS.
Boatswain,	Mr. PAULO.
Master of a Ship and Mariners.
Miranda, (Daughter to Prospero)	Miss CARLOTTA LECLERCQ.
Ariel, (an Airy Spirit)	Miss KATE TERRY.
Iris, (Spirit)	Miss DENVILLE.
Ceres, (Spirit)	Miss HONEY.
Juno, (Spirit)	Miss POOLE.

SCENE—The Sea, with a Ship; afterwards an Uninhabited Island.

The Scenery Painted by Mr. GRIEVE and Mr. TELBIN, Assisted by Mr. W. GORDON, Mr. F. LLOYDS, Mr. CUTHBERT, Mr. DAYES, Mr. MORRIS, &c., &c. The Music under the direction of Mr. J. L. HATTON. The Dances and Action, by Mr. OSCAR BYRN. The Decorations & Appointments by Mr. E. W. BRADWELL. The Dresses by Mrs. and Miss HOGGINS. The Machinery by Mr. G. HODSDON. Perruquier, Mr. ASPLIN, of No. 13, New Bond Street. ^note

PREFACE.

“The Tempest, and the Midsummer Night's Dream, are the noblest efforts of that sublime and amazing imagination peculiar to Shakespeare, which soars above the bounds of nature without forsaking sense; or more properly, carries nature along with him beyond her established limits.” Such are the words of one of our poet's most learned commentators, Doctor Warburton, Bishop of Gloucester, conveying a true estimate of the genius which conceived and constructed the play of the The Tempest. This wonderful drama—this bright creation of a sportive fancy which peoples the air with sylphs and spirits— may be said to symbolize, almost as much as a historical play, a definite period in the world's annals.

During the century that followed the first revelation of a new hemisphere to the eyes of astonished Europe, the mind of man was repeatedly excited by the announcement of fresh wonders. The inspired perseverance of Columbus had awakened a spirit not to be extinguished, and the names of Vasco de Gama, Ferdinand Magellan, Sebastian Cabot, Francis Drake, Walter Raleigh, and other bold navigators, remain

as bright monuments of an age of discoveries, which has since produced so great a change in the aspect of the entire world—has expanded the human intellect by the constant presentation of new objects—and has laid the foundation of those marvels which have emanated from the philosophy of modern science. It is this age of discoveries that is represented by The Tempest.

In 1609, about three years before the production of the play, the disastrous shipwreck of Sir George Somers had familiarized the multitude with the Bermuda Islands, which, as we learn from the addition to Stow's Annals, by Howes, were “said and supposed to be enchanted, and inhabited with witches and devils, which grew by reason of accustomed monstrous thunder-storm and tempest near unto those islands.”

While the living generation was yet impressed with these wonderful additions to the geography of the globe's surface, and bewildered by the fabulous stories derived from the bold and unscrupulous adventurers who had traversed those distant regions— such, for instance, as the relation concerning “men whose heads stood in their breasts,” in Sir Walter Raleigh's voyage to Guiana in 1595—a most fearful tempest swept the coast of England, destroying hundreds of ships, and creating a terror so universal, that public prayers were ordered, by authority, in the various churches.

This appalling visitation may, perhaps, have stimulated Shakespeare to compose a drama, which should combine a “topic of the day” with those wonders of far countries which were greedily received as facts by the credulous masses. The belief in sorcery and witchcraft, which at that period prevailed, more or less, throughout all society, and which had found an additional aliment in the reports circulated with regard to the Bermudas, had so much disposed the public mind in favour of supernatural subjects, that amongst the audiences who first witnessed the play of The Tempest, many, doubtless, were to be found, who gave ready credence to the reality of the prodigies therein introduced. Apart from the popular superstitious belief of the time, to which, perhaps, the play partially owed its origin, the inexhaustible genius of the poet has transmitted to posterity one of the most fascinating dramatic compositions that ever sprang from human intellect. The enchanted island, governed by the wand of Prospero, released from its association with the Bermudas, remains an imaginary kingdom, the scene of affecting and mysterious incidents, over which Ariel presides as the image of air, in spiritual contrast to the grosser Caliban, who embodies the earthly element.

In the stage arrangement, I have ventured to depart almost entirely from conventional precedent. To the close of the third act, for instance, where “strange shapes,” without any specified identity, are

described as bringing in a banquet, I have endeavoured to give a mythological character. In a later portion of the play, a Masque is performed for the entertainment of Ferdinand and Miranda, which Shakespeare has invested with the classical forms of antique goddesses and nymphs. I have, therefore, deemed myself at liberty to adopt a similar view with regard to the supposed Islanders, who invite the King of Naples and his attendant Lords to their magical repast. Naiads, Dryads, and Satyrs have taken the place of the ludicrous and unmeaning monsters hitherto presented, as being not only more picturesque and poetical, but also more in accordance with the classical figure of the Harpy, which rises in the midst of them. To preserve the mythological tone throughout, the principal demons and goblins commanded to torture the brute Caliban, and his drunken associates, Trinculo and Stephano, at the close of the fourth act, are copied from Furies depicted on Etruscan vases.

A great change has been made in the orchestral arrangements, under the direction of Mr. J. L. Hatton, who, with the exception of a few favorite and well-known airs, has composed the whole of the music. To give full strength to the vocal department, Miss Poole has been specially engaged to appear as “Juno” in the Masque, and to take the solo parts in the invisible chorusses which pervade the performance. The songs usually allotted to Ariel

will be transferred to this lady, as leader of the spirit-choir. In the play of The Tempest, no allusion being made to any definite period of action, I have exercised the liberty of selecting the thirteenth century as a date for costume. The vessel lost in the storm at the commencement, and restored in the calm at the close of the piece, is also copied from authentic records of the same period.

The scenery has been painted by Mr. Grieve and Mr. Telbin; and although a purely imaginative drama does not admit of those historical details which have been so accurately observed in earlier Shakespearian revivals at this Theatre, an endeavor has been made, in the present instance, to impart a generally new character to one of the most lofty productions of that master-poet, who supplied new worlds with the rapidity of thought, and of whom it has been so justly written, “that he lived, not for an age, but for all time.”

THE TEMPEST. ACT I. Scene I. —A SHIP IN A STORM. The first scene, as now arranged, may be considered an introduction to the play; on its conclusion, therefore, the green curtain will descend, and the Overture will here be performed, for the purpose of giving time for the clearing away and re-setting of the stage. Scene II. —THE ISLAND OVERLOOKING THE SEA. During the progress of the scene, the waters abate, the sun rises, and the tide recedes, leaving the yellow sands, to which Ferdinand is invited by Ariel and the spirits. Prospero and Miranda.

Mir.
If by your art, my dearest father, you have
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them:
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.

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

Mir.
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^{1 note}
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,^{2 note}
And thy no greater father.

Mir.
More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.^{3 note}

Pro.
'Tis time
I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magic garment from me.—So; [Lays down his mantle.
Lie there my art.(A)8Q0202—Wipe thou thine eye; have comfort.
The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such prevision in mine art^{4 note}
So safely order'd, that there is no soul—
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 further.

Mir.
You have often
Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd
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. Can'st thou remember
A time before we came unto this isle?
I do not think thou can'st; for then thou wast not
Out three years old.^{5 note}

Mir.
Certainly, sir, I can.

Pro.
By what?—By any other place or person?
Of any thing the image tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance?

Mir.
'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 had'st, and more, Miranda:
Sixteen years, Miranda, sixteen years since,
Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and
A prince of power.

Mir.
O, the heavens!
What foul play had we, that we came from thence?

Pro.
My brother, and thy uncle, called Antonio,—
I pray thee, mark me,—that a brother should
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—
Thus having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts
To what tune pleas'd 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:
I pray thee, mark me.

Mir.
O good Sir, I do.

Pro.
I thus neglecting worldly ends,
In my false brother
Awak'd an evil nature:
Hence his ambition
Growing,—he needs will be
Absolute Milan: Me, poor man!—my library
Was dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties
He thinks me now incapable: confederates

(So dry he was for sway)^{6 note} with the 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.

Mir.
O, the heavens!

Pro.
This king of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
Which was, that he in lieu o' the premises,—^{7 note}
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 midnight
Fated to the practise,^{8 note} did Antonio open
The gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness,
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me, and thy crying self.

Mir.
Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?

Pro.
My child, 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;
Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd
A rotten carcase of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast;(B)8Q0203 the very rats
Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roar'd to us,^{9 note} to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.

Mir.
Alack! what trouble
Was I then to you.

Pro.
O! a cherubim
Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
Which rais'd in me
A courage to bear up
Against what should ensue.

Mir.
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, (who 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.

Mir.
'Would I might
But ever see that man.

Pro.
Now I arise:— [Puts on his robe again—(soft music).
Sit still, 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.

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?

Pro.
Know thus far forth.—
By accident most strange, bountiful fortune,
Now my dear lady,^{10 note} hath mine enemies
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;

Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dullness,
And give it away;—I know thou can'st not choose.^{1 1 note}— [Miranda sleeps—(music ceases).
Come away, servant, come; I am ready now:
Approach, my Ariel; come. [Ariel appears.

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 quality.

Pro.
Hast thou, spirit,
Performed to point^{12 note} the tempest that I bade thee:

Ari.
To every article.
I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,^{13 note}
Now in the waist,^{14 note} the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd amazement.(C)8Q0204 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. Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad,^{15 note} and play'd
Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,^{16 note}
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; cried, Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.(D)8Q0205

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,^{17 note}
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 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' the fleet?

Ari.
Safely in harbour
Is the king's ship; in a deep nook she's hid:
The mariners, all under hatches stow'd,
I have left asleep: and for the rest o' the fleet,
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again;
And all upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples;
Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd,
And his great person perish.

Pro.
Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work.

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 can'st demand?

Ari.
My liberty.^{18 note}

Pro.
Before the time be out? no more.

Ari.
I pray thee
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.

Pro.
Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?(E)8Q0206

Ari.
No.

Pro.
Thou dost; and think'st
It much, to tread the ooze of the salt deep;
To run upon the sharp wind of the north;
To do me business in the veins o' the earth,
When it is bak'd with frost.

Ari.
I do not, sir.

Pro.
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.

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

Ari.
Sir, in Argier.^{19 note}

Pro.
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
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 hug was hither brought with child,
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,
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,
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.

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 hast howl'd away twelve winters.

Ari.
Pardon, master:
I will be correspondent to command,
And do my spiriting 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' the sea;
Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible
To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape,
And hither come in't: hence, with diligence. [Ariel disappears.
Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;
Awake!

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

Pro.
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.

Pro.
But, as 'tis,

We cannot miss him:^{20 note} 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.

Pro.
Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee:
Come forth, thou tortoise! when?^{21 note} [Ariel rises from the sea like a water nymph.
Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,^{22 note}
Hark in thine ear.

Ari.
My lord, it shall be done. [Floats away.

Pro.
Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself
Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! Enter Caliban(F)8Q0207 from Cavern.

Cal.
As wicked dew^{23 note} 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!

Pro.
For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins^{24 note}
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,^{25 note}
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made them.

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 strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me: 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 show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fertile;
Cursed be I that did so!—All the charms
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 of the island.

Pro.
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 thee
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to abuse
My gentle child. I pitied 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 fuel; and be quick, th' 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 power, [Aside.
It would control my dam's god Setebos,^{26 note}
And make a vassal of him.

Pro.
So, slave; hence! [Exit Caliban. Ariel floats across the sands, playing; Ferdinand following.

SONG AND CHORUS BY INVISIBLE SPIRITS.
Come unto these yellow sands,
  And then take hands:
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
  Hark, hark!
  The watch-dogs bark:
  Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of chanticlere.

Fer.
Where should this music be? i' the air, or the earth?
It sounds no more:—and sure, it waits upon
Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank,
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. [Chorus recommences.
No, it begins again.

SONG AND CHORUS.
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.

Pro.
The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And 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.

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 them.

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

Pro.
It goes on, [Aside.
As my soul prompts it:—Spirit, fine spirit, I'll free thee
Within two days for this.

Fer.
Most sure, the goddess [Kneels.
On whom these airs attend!—Vouchsafe, my prayer
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?

Mir.
No wonder, sir;
But, certainly a maid.

Fer. (rising)
My language! heavens!—
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 wreck'd.

Mir.
Alack, for mercy!

Fer.
Yes, faith, and all his lords.

Pro.
At the first sight [Aside.

They have chang'd eyes:^{27 note}—Delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this!—a word, good sir:
I fear, you have done yourself some wrong,^{28 note} a word.

Mir.
Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first
That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!

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

Pro.
Soft, sir; one word more.—
They are both in either's powers: but this swift business
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Aside.
Make the prize light.—One word more; I charge thee,
That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
The name thou own'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 am alive.

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.

Pro.
Follow me.— [To Ferdinand.
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:
I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy has more power. [He draws his sword, and is charmed from moving.

Mir.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful.^{29 note}

Pro.
What, I say,
My foot my tutor!^{30 note}—Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience
Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward;^{31 note}
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.

Mir.
Beseech you, father!

Mir.
Hence; hang not on my garments.

Mir.
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!
Come on; obey; [To Ferdinand.
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.^{32 note}
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats,
To whom I am subdu'd, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I, in such a prison. [Ariel appears again.

Pro.
It works:—Come on.—
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!—Follow me.— [To Ferdinand and Miranda.
Hark, what thou else shalt do me. [To Ariel.

Mir.
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 the syllable.

Pro.
Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt. DISTANT CHORUS OF SPIRITS. END OF ACT FIRST.

HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT FIRST. ^{note note
note note}

^note

^note

ACT II. Scene I. —INTERIOR OF THE ISLAND. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others.

Gon.
Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have cause
(So have we all) of joy: for our escape
Is much beyond our loss: 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.

Alo.
Pr'ythee, peace.

Gon.
Well, I have done.

Adr.
Though this island seem to be desert,
Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,
It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.^{1 note}
The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

Gon.

But the rarity of it is (which is, indeed, almost beyond credit) 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, and are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Africk, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel, to the King of Tunis.

Seb.

'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Gon.

Sir, we were talking, that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis, at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. Are not, sir, my garments as fresh as the first day I wore them, at your daughter's marriage?

Alo.
You cram these words into mine ears, against
The stomach of my sense: Would I had never
Marry'd my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost. O, thou, mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan.

Fra.
Sir, he may live.
I saw him beat the surges under him.
And ride upon their backs. I do not doubt,
He came alive to land.

Alo.
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;
We have lost your son,
I fear, for ever: the fault's your own.

Alo.
So is the dearest of the loss.

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. Enter Ariel invisible. Solemn music.

Ant.
Nay, my good lord, be not angry.

Gon.

No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant.
Go sleep, and hear us. [All sleep but Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio.

Alo.
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,
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.

Alo.
Thank you. Wond'rous heavy.— [Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel.

Seb.
What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

Ant.
It is the quality o' the climate.

Seb.
Why
Doth it not, then, our eye-lids sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.

Ant.
Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
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 should'st be: the occasion speaks thee; and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.

Seb.
What, art thou waking?

Ant.
Do you not hear me speak?

Seb.
I do. Pr'ythee, say on:
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 hath almost persuaded
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.
O, out of that no hope,
What great hope have you!
Will you grant, with me,
That 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 dwells
Ten leagues beyond man's life.^{2 note} Say, this were death
That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no worse
Than now they are: There be, that can rule Naples,
As well as he that sleeps;

O, that you bore
That mind that I do; what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?

Seb.
Methinks I do.

Ant.
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
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.

Seb.
But, for your conscience—

Ant.
Ay, sir; where lies that? But I feel not
This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candy'd be they,
And melt, ere they molest!^{3 note}

Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon,
If he were that which now he's like; 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^{4 note} might put
This ancient morsel,^{5 note} this sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course.

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 pay'st:
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 converse apart. Music. Re-enter Ariel, invisible.

Ari.
My master, through his art, foresees the danger
That these, his friends, are in; and sends me forth,
(For else his project dies), to keep them living^{6 note} [Sings in Gonzalo's ear.

While you here do snoring lie,
Open-ey'd conspiracy
  His 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 angels, preserve the king! [They wake.

Alo.
Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you drawn!^{7 note}
Wherefore thus ghastly looking?

Gon.
What's the matter?

Seb.
Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing,
Like bulls, or rather lions; did it not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.

Alo.
I heard nothing.
Heard you this, Gonzalo?

Gon.
Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one, too, which did awake me:
I saw their weapons drawn:—there was a noise,
That's verity: 'Best stand upon our guard;
Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.

Alo.
Lead off this ground; and let's make further search
For my poor son.

Gon.
Heavens keep him from these beasts!
For he is, sure, i' the island.

Alo.
Lead away. [Exeunt.

Ari.
Prospero my lord shall know what I have done. [Aside.
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Flies away. Enter Caliban with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard.

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,
Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid them; but
For every trifle are they set upon me:
Sometimes like apes, that moe^{8 note} and chatter at me,
And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
Their prickles at my foot-fall; sometime am I
All wound with adders,^{9 note} who, with cloven tongues.
Do hiss me into madness:—Lo! now! lo!
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. Enter Trinculo.

Tri.

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^{10 note} 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.^{11 note} A strange fish! 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 suffer'd by a thunder-bolt. [Thunder.] Alas! the storm is come again; my best way is to creep under his gaberdine;^{12 note} there is no other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows: I will here shroud, till the drench of the storm be past.

Ste.

I shall no more to sea, to sea,
  Here shall I die a-shore;—

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: Well, here's my comfort.

The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
  The gunner, and his mate,
Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
  But none of us car'd for Kate:
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.

This is a scurvy tune, too: But here's my comfort.

Cal.

Do not torment me: O!

Ste.

What's the matter! Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not 'scaped drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, as proper a man as ever went on four legs, cannot make him give ground: and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at nostrils.

Cal.

The spirit torments me: O!

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.

Cal.
Do not torment me, pr'ythee;
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;^{13 note} 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;^{14 note}
Now Prosper works upon thee.

Ste.

Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat;^{15 note} 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.

Tri.

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!^{16 note} I will pour some in thy other mouth.

Tri.

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.^{17 note}

Tri.

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^{18 note} of this moon-calf?^{19 note}

Tri.

I took him to be kill'd with a thunder-stroke:— 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's-calf's gaberdine, for fear of the storm: And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scap'd

Ste.

Pr'ythee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.

Cal.
These be fine things, an if they be not sprites.
That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor:
I will kneel to him.

Ste.

How did'st 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 heav'd over-board, by this bottle! Here; swear then how thou escap'dst.

Tri.

Swam a-shore, 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.

Tri.

O Stephano, hast any more of this?

Ste.

The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a rock by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf? how does thine ague?

Cal.

Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven?^{20 note}

Ste.

Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man in the moon(A)8Q0208 when time was.

Cal.

I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee.

Ste.

Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish it anon with new contents: swear.

Tri.

By this good light, this is a very shallow monster: I afeard of him?—a very weak monster:—The man i' the moon?—a most poor credulous monster:—Well drawn, monster, in good sooth.^{21 note}

Cal.
I'll shew thee every fertile inch o' the island;
And kiss thy foot: I pr'ythee, be my god.

Tri.

By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster; when his 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.

Tri.

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.

Tri.

—but that the poor monster's in drink: An abominable monster!

Cal.
I'll shew 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 wond'rous man.

Tri.

A most ridiculous monster; to make a wonder of a poor drunkard.

Cal.
I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;
Shew thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee
To clust'ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee
Young sea-mells^{22 note} from the rock: Wilt thou go with me?

Ste.

I pr'ythee now, lead the way, without any more talking.—Trinculo, the king and all our company else being drown'd, we will inherit here.—Here; bear my bottle. Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again.

Cal.

Farewell, master; farewell, farewell.

Tri.

A howling monster; a drunken monster.

Cal.
No more dams I'll make for fish:
  Nor fetch in firing
  At requiring.
Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish:
  'Ban 'Ban, Ca—Caliban,
  Has a new master—Get a new man.^{23 note}

Ste.

O brave monster! lead the way.

HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT SECOND. ^note

ACT III. Scene I. ANOTHER PART OF THE ISLAND. —Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log.

Fer.
There be some sports are painful; but their labour
Delight in them sets off:^{1 note} This my mean task would be
As heavy to me, as 'tis odious; but
The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours pleasures. Enter Miranda.

Mir.
Alas, now! pray you,
Work not so hard: I would, the lightning had
Burnt up those logs, that you are enjoin'd to pile!

Fer.
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. You look wearily.

Fer.
No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me,
When 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^{2 note} to say so!

Fer.
Full many a lady
I have ey'd with best regard. But you, O you,

So perfect, and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best.^{3 note}

Mir.
I would not wish
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
Therein forget.

Fer.
I am, in my condition,
A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service;
And, for your sake,
Am I this patient log-man.

Mir.
Do you love me?

Fer.
O, heaven! O, earth! bear witness to this sound,
Beyond all limit of what else i' the world,^{4 note}
I love, prize, honour you.

Mir.
I am a fool,
To weep at what I am glad of.

Fer.
Wherefore weep you?

Mir.
At mine unworthiness.
But this is trifling;
And all the more it seeks^{5 note} 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^{6 note}
You may deny me; but I'll be your servant,
Whether you will or no.

Fer.
My mistress, dearest,
And I thus humble ever.
Here's my hand.

Mir.
And mine, with my heart in't: And now, farewell,
Till half an hour hence.

Fer.
A thousand! thousand! [Exeunt Ferdinand and Miranda. Enter Stephano and Trinculo; Caliban following.

Ste.

Tell not me;—when the butt is out, we will drink water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and board 'em:^{7 note} Servant-monster, drink to me.

Tri.

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.

Tri.

Where should they be set else? he were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.

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.

Tri.

Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard.^{8 note}

Ste.

We'll not run, monsieur monster.

Tri.

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 moon-calf.

Cal.

How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe: I'll not serve him, he is not valiant.

Tri.

Thou liest, most ignorant monster; I am in case to justle a constable: Why, thou debauch'd fish thou, was there ever a 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?

Tri.

Lord, quoth he! that a monster should be such a natural!

Cal.

Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I pr'ythee.

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 the suit I made thee?

Ste.

Marry will I: kneel, and repeat it; I will stand, and so shall Trinculo.

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 his tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.

Tri.

Why, I said nothing.

Ste.
Mum then, and no more.—
Proceed. [To Caliban.

Cal.
I say, by sorcery he got this isle:
From me he got it. If thy greatness will
Revenge 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 to the party?

Cal.
Yea, yea, my lord; I'll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou may'st knock a nail into his head.

Ari.
Thou liest, thou canst not.

Cal.
What a py'd ninny's this?^{9 note} 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 shew him
Where the quick freshes are.

Ste.

Trinculo, run into no further danger: interrupt the monster one word further, and, by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out of doors, and make a stock-fish of thee.

Tri.

Why, what did I? I did nothing; I'll go further off.

Ste.

Didst thou not say, he lied?

Ari.

Thou liest.

Ste.

Do I so? take thou that. [Strikes him.] As you like this, give me the lie another time.

Tri.

I did not give the lie:—Out o'your wits, and hearing too?—A plague o' your bottle! this can sack, and drinking do.—A murrain on your monster, and the devil take your fingers!

Cal.

Ha, Ha, Ha!

Ste.

Now, forward with your tale. Pr'ythee stand further off.

Cal.
Beat him enough: after a little time,
I'll beat him too.

Ste.
Stand further—Come, proceed.

Cal.
Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him,
I'the afternoon to sleep: there thou may'st brain him,
Having first seized his books; or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his wezand^{10 note} with thy knife: Remember,
First to possess his books;^{11 note} for without them
He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command.

Ste.

Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I will be king and queen; (save our graces!) and Trinculo and thyself shall be vice-roys:—Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo?

Tri.

Excellent.

Ste.

Give me thy hand; I am sorry I beat thee: but, while thou liv'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^{12 note}
You taught me but while-ere?

Ste.

At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any reason: Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.