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.

Previous section