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,
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 ^note 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 power, I would
Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er
It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and
The fraighting ^note souls within her.

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 ^note 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.

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

Pro.
'Tis time
I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magick garment from me.—So;
Lye † 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 ^note mine art
So safely order'd, that there is no loss ^{note note},14Q0003
No, not so much perdition as an hair ^note,
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 stopt;
And left me to a bootless ^note 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.

Mir.
Certainly, sir, I can.

Pro.
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;
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 see'st thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?
If thou remember'st ought, ere thou cam'st here;
How thou cam'st here, thou may'st.

Mir.
But that I do not.

Pro.
Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
Thy father was the duke of Milan, and

A prince of power.

Mir.
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 his only heir
A princess ^note: no worse issu'd.

Mir.
O the heavens!
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 holp hither.

Mir.
O, my heart bleeds
To think o'the teen that I have turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.

Pro.
My brother,14Q0004 and thy uncle, call'd Antonio,—
I pray thee, mark me,—(That a brother should
Be so perfidious!) he whom, next thy self,
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?—

Mir.
Sir, most heedfully.

Pro.
Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them; who to advance, and who ^note
To trash for over-topping; new created

The creatures that were mine; I say, or chang'd them,
Or else new form'd them: having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts i'the state
To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was
The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk,
And suckt my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not.

Mir.
O, yes, good sir, I do.

Pro.
I pray thee, mark me.
I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To closeness, and the bettering of my mind
With that, which, but by being so ^note retir'd,
O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother
Awak'd an evil nature: and my trust,
Like a good parent, did beget of him
A falsehood, in it's 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
Who having, unto ^note truth, by telling of it, ^note
Made such ^note a sinner of his memory
To credit his own lye,—he did believe
He was, indeed, the duke; from substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative: Hence his ambition ^note growing,—
Dost thou hear, girl?

Mir.
Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

Pro.
To have no screen between this part he play'd
And him he play'd it for, he needs will be
Absolute Milan: ^note Me, poor man, my library
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
The dukedom, yet unbow'd, (alas, poor Milan!)
To most ignoble ^note stooping.

Mir.
O the heavens!

Pro.
Mark his condition, and the event; then tell me,
If this might be a brother.

Mir.
I should sin,
To think but nobly of my grand-mother:
Good wombs have born bad sons.

Pro.
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,—
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 purpose, did Antonio open
The gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness,
The ministers for the purpose hurry'd thence
Me, and thy crying self.

Mir.
Alack, for pity!
I, not remembring how I cry'd on't then ^note,
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 us; without the which, this story
Were most impertinent.

Mir.
Wherefore 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) nor 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, ^note not rig'd,
Nor tackle, nor sail, nor ^note mast; the very rats
Instinctively had quit ^note it: there they hoist us
To cry to the sea, that roar'd to us; 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 cherubin
Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou did'st smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,
Under my burthen groan'd; which rais'd in me
An undergoing stomach, 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, (he being ^note then appointed
Master of this design) did give us; with
Rich garments, linnens, stuffs, and necessaries,
Which since have steeded much: so, of his gentleness,

Knowing I lov'd 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!

Pro.
Now I arise:14Q0005—
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 ^note, 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, 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 dulness,
And give it way: I know, thou canst not choose.— [Miranda sleeps.
Come away, servant, come: I'm ready now;
Approach, my Ariel, come. Enter Ariel.

Ari.
All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
To answer thy best pleasure; be't ^note 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. ^note

Pro.
Hast thou, spirit,
Perform'd to point the tempest that I bad 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 ^note, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the top-mast,
The yards, and bore-sprit, ^note would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, ^note the precursers
O' the dreadful thunder-clap ^note, more momentary
And sight-out-running were not: The fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seem ^note to besiege; and make his bold waves tremble,
Yea, his dread ^note trident shake.

Pro.
My brave 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,14Q0006 and ^note 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 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 the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vext Bermoothes, there she's hid:
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 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 wreck'd,
And his great person perish.

Pro.
Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work:
What is the time o' the day?14Q0007

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 ^note thou canst demand?

Ari.
My liberty.

Pro.
Before the time be out? no more.

Ari.
I pray thee:
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lyes, made thee no ^note 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?

Ari.
No.

Pro.
Thou dost: and think'st it much, to tread the ooze
Of the salt deep;
To run upon ^note 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 ly'st, malignant thing: Hast thou forgot
The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age, and envy,
Was grown ^note 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.
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 ^note, 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 the 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 abhor'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 ^note 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 ^note she did litter here,
A freckl'd 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 ^note a nymph o' the sea:
Be subject to no sight but mine; ^note 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!

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: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood; and serves in offices ^note
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, thou tortoise! when! Re-enter Ariel, like a Water-nymph.
&clquo;Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,&crquo;
&clquo;Hark in thine ear.&crquo;

&clquo;Ari.
&clquo;My lord, it shall be done.&crquo; [Exit Ariel.

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

Cal.
As wicked dew, as ere my mother brush'd
With raven's feather from unwholsom 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
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honey-comb, ^note 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 cam'st first,14Q0008
Thou stroak'dst me, and mad'st much ^note 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 shew'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,
The fresh-springs, brine-pits, barren place, and fertil;—
Curs'd be I, that I did ^note 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 o'the island.

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

Cal.
Oh ho, oh ho!—'would't had been done!
Thou did'st prevent me; I had peopl'd else

This isle ^note with Calibans.

Pro.
Abhorred ^note slave;14Q0009
Which any print of goodness wilt not ^note 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 could'st not ^note, savage,
Show thine ^note own meaning, but would'st 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
Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confin'd into this rock,
Who had'st deserv'd 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!

Pro.
Hag-seed, hence!
Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'ert ^note 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!—
&clquo;I must obey; his art is of such power,&crquo;
&clquo;It would controul my dam's god Setebos,&crquo;
&clquo;And make a vassal of him.&crquo;

Pro.
So, slave; hence! [Exit Caliban. Musick. Re-enter Ariel, invisible; Ferdinand following. SONG.
Ari.
Come unto these yellow sands,14Q0010
  and then take hands:

curt'sy'd when you have, and kist,
  (the wild waves whist)
foot it featly here and there;
and, sweet sprites, the burthen bear ^note.
  Hark, hark! bur.
Bowgh, wowgh. [dispersedly.
the watch-dogs bark: bur.
Bowgh, wowgh. dispersedly.
Hark, hark! I hear
the strain of strutting chanticlere
cry, Cock-a-doodle-do.

Fer.
Where should this musick be? i' the air? or the earth?
It sounds no more:—and, sure, it waits upon
Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping against the ^note king my father's wreck,
This musick crept ^note by me upon the waters;
Allaying both their fury, and my passion,
With it's sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me rather:—But 'tis gone:
No, it begins ^note again.
Ari. 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. [Burthen, Ding-dong.

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.

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

&clquo;Pro.
&clquo;It goes, I ^note see,&crquo;
&clquo;As my soul prompts it:—Spirit, fine spirit, I'll free thee&crquo;
&clquo;Within two days for this.&crquo;

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
How I may bear me here: My prime request,
Which I do last pronounce, is, o you wonder,
If you be maid ^note, 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.

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.

Mir.
Alack, for mercy!

Fer.
Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of Milan,
And his brave son, being twain.14Q0011

Pro.
The duke of Milan,
And his more braver daughter, could controul thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't.—&clquo;At the first sight&crquo;
&clquo;They have chang'd eyes:—Delicate Ariel,&crquo;
&clquo;I'll set thee free for this.&crquo;—A word, good sir;
I fear, you have done yourself some wrong; a word.

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

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.
&clquo;They are both in either's powers: but this swift business&crquo;
&clquo;I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
&clquo;Make the prize light.&crquo; 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 am a man.

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

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 roots, and husks
Wherein the acorn cradl'd: Follow.

Fer.
No;
I will resist such entertainment, 'till
Mine enemy has more power. [draws.

Mir.
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 ^note shew, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience
Is so ^note possest with guilt: come from thy ward;
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.

Mir.
Beseech you, father!

Pro.
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!
Thou think'st, there are no ^note more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban; Foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels.

Mir.
My 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, or this ^note man's threats
To whom I am subdu'd, are but ^note 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.

&clquo;Pro.
&clquo;It works.&crquo;—Come on.—
&clquo;Thou hast done well, fine Ariel.&crquo;—Follow me.—
&clquo;Hark what thou else shalt do me.&crquo;

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.

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

&clquo;Ari.
&clquo;To the syllable.&crquo;

Pro.
Come, follow:—Speak not for him. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. Another Part 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: Our hint of woe
Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
The master ^note 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.

Alo.
Pr'ythee, peace.14Q0012

Seb.
He receives comfort like cold porridge.

Ant.
The visitor will not give him o'er so.

Seb.

Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.

Gon.

Sir,—

Seb.

One:—Tell. ^note

Gon.

When every grief is entertain'd, that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer—

Seb.

A dollar.

Gon.

Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you purpos'd.

Seb.

You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

Gon.

Therefore, my lord,—

Ant.

Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue?

Alo.

I pr'ythee, spare.

Gon.

Well, I have done: But yet—

Seb.

He will be talking.

Ant.

Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?

Seb.

The old cock.

Ant.

The cockrel.

Seb.

Done: The wager?

Ant.

A laughter.

Seb.

A match.

Adr.

Though this island seem to be desart,—

Seb.

Ha, ha, ha!

Ant.

So, you've pay'd ^note.

Adr.

Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,—

Seb.

Yet,

Adr.

Yet—

Ant.

He could not miss't.

Adr.

It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.

Ant.

Temperance was a delicate wench.

Seb.

Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly deliver'd.

Adr.

The air breaths upon us here most sweetly.

Seb.

As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.

Ant.

Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a fen.

Gon.

Here is every thing advantageous to life.

Ant.

True; save means to live.

Seb.

Of that there's none, or little.

Gon.

How lush and lusty the grass looks? how green?

Ant.

The ground, indeed, is tawny.

Seb.

With an eye of green in't.

Ant.

He misses not much.

Seb.

No, he doth but mistake the truth totally.

Gon.

But the rarity of it is, (which is, indeed, almost beyond credit)—

Seb.

As many voucht rarities are.

Gon.

That our garments, being (as they were) drench'd in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness, and glosses; being rather new dy'd, than stain'd with salt water.

Ant.

If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, he lyes?

Seb.

Ay, or very falsly pocket up his report.

Gon.

Methinks, our garments 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.

Adr.

Tunis was never grac'd before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gon.

Not since widow Dido's time.

Ant.

Widow? a pox o'that! How came that widow in? widow Dido!

Seb.

What if he had said, widower Æneas too? good lord, how you take it!

Adr.

Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

Gon.

This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Adr.

Carthage?

Gon.

I assure you, Carthage.

Ant.

His word is more than the miraculous harp.

Seb.

He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.

Ant.

What impossible matter will he make easy next?

Seb.

I think, he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

Ant.

And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.

Gon.

Ay?

Ant.

Why, in good time.

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.

Ant.

And the rarest that e'er came there.

Seb.

Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

Ant.

O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.

Gon.

Is not, sir, my doublet ^note as fresh as the first day I wore it, (I mean, in a sort)

Ant.

That sort was well fish'd for.

Gon.

When I wore it 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: and, in my rate, she too;
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,
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!

Fra.
Sir, he may live:
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and 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,
As stooping to relieve him: I 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;
Where she at least is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.

Alo.
Pr'ythee, peace.

Seb.
You were kneel'd to, and impórtun'd otherwise
By all of us: and the fair soul herself
Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at
Which end the beam ^note should bow.14Q0013 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.

Alo.
So is the dear'st o' 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 plaister.

Seb.
Very well.

Ant.
And most chirurgeonly.

Gon.
It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.

Seb.
Foul weather?

Ant.
Very foul.

Gon.
Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,—

Ant.
He'd sow't with nettle-seed.

Seb.
Or docks, or mallows.

Gon.
And were the king of it, What would I do?

Seb.
'Scape being drunk, for want of wine.

Gon.
I'the common-wealth I would by contraries
Execute all things: For no kind of traffick
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; poverty, riches, ^note
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, olive, none;
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oyl:
No occupation; all men idle, all,

And women too, but innocent, and pure:
No sovereignty:

Seb.
Yet he would be king on't.

Ant.

The latter end of his common-wealth forgets the beginning.

Gon.
All things in common nature should produce,
Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
Of it's own kind, all foizon, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

Seb.
No marrying 'mong his subjects?

Ant.
None, man: all idle; whores, and knaves.

Gon.
I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.

Seb.
'Save his majesty!

Ant.
Long live Gonzalo!

Gon.
And, do you mark me, sir?—

Alo.
Pr'ythee, no more;
Thou dost talk nothing to me.

Gon.

I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing.

Ant.

'Twas you we laugh'd at.

Gon.

Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

Ant.

What a blow was there given?

Seb.

An it had not fallen flat-long.

Gon.

You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would

continue in it five weeks without changing.

Seb.

We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.

Ant.

Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

Gon.

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

Ant.

Go sleep, and hear us.

Alo.
What, all so soon asleep! I wish, mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts; I find,
They are inclin'd to do so.

Seb.
Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.

Ant.
We two, my lord,
Will guard your person, while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.

Alo.
Thank you: Wondrous heavy. [Alonso sleeps.

Seb.
What a strange drowsiness ^note 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 dropt, 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: and, surely,
It is a sleepy language; and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep: What is it thou did'st say?
This is a strange ^note repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.

Ant.
Noble Sebastian,
Thou let'st thy fortune sleep; dye rather: wink'st,
Whiles thou art waking.

Seb.
Thou dost snore distinctly;
There's meaning in thy snores.

Ant.
I am more serious than my custom: you
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do,
Trebles thee o'er.

Seb.
Well; I am standing water.

Ant.
I'll teach you how to flow.

Seb.
Do so: to ebb,
Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Ant.
O,
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.
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 of weak remembrance, † this,
(Who shall be of as little memory,
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.
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 doubts ^note discovery there.14Q0014 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; she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post,
(The man i' the moon's too slow) 'till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable; she from ^note whom
We were ^note sea-swallow'd,—though some cast again;
And (by that destiny) to perform an act,
Whereof, what's past is prologue ^note; what to come,
In yours, and my discharge.

Seb.
What stuff is this?—How say you?
'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis;
So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions

There is some space.

Ant.
A space, whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples? ^note—Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake.—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; lords, that can prate
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?

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 feat 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; but where lyes that? if 'twere a kybe,
'Twould put me to my slipper: But I feel not
This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candy'd be they,
Would melt ^note, ere they molest.14Q0015 Here lyes your brother,
No better than the earth he lyes upon,
If he were that which now he's like, that's dead;
Whom I with this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever: whiles you, doing † thus,

To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, ^note this sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course: For all the rest,
They'll take ^note suggestion, as a cat laps milk;
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 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 talk apart. Enter Ariel, invisible.

&clquo;Ari.
&clquo;My master through his art foresees the danger&crquo;
&clquo;That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth&crquo;
&clquo;(For else his project dies) to keep them living.&crquo; [sings in Gonzalo's Ear.

While you here do snoring lye,
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! [starting up. All wake.

Alo.
Why, how now, ho! awake?—Why are you drawn?
Wherefore this gastly 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't not wake you?
It strook mine ^note ear most terribly.

Alo.
I heard nothing.

Ant.
O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear;
To make an earth-quake! sure, it was the roar
Of a whole herd of lions.

Alo.
Heard you this, Gonzalo?

Gon.
Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd; as mine eyes open'd,
I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise,
That's verily: ^note 'Tis best, we 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.

&clquo;Ari.
&clquo;Prospero my lord shall know what I have done.&crquo;
&clquo;So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.&crquo; [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another Part of the Island. Enter Caliban, with a Burthen of Wood: A Noise of Thunder heard.

Cal.
All the infections that the sun sucks up [throwing down his Burthen.
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 not pinch,
Fright me with urchin shews, pitch me i' th' mire,

Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but
For every trifle are they set upon me:
Sometime like apes, that moe and chatter at me,
And after bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lye tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I
All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness;—Lo, now, lo! Enter Trinculo.
Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me,
For bringing wood in slowly: I'll fall flat; [casts himself on the Ground.
Perchance, he will not mind me.

Tri.

Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all; and another storm brewing, I hear it sing i' th' wind: yond' same black cloud, yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard 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 pail-fulls.—What have we here? seeing Caliban.] 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. A strange fish! Were I in England now, (as once I was) and had but this fish ^note painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man; when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Leg'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; there is no other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows: I will here shrowd 'till the dregs of the storm be past.

Ste.

I shall no more to sea, to sea,
  here shall I dye a-shore;—
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral:
Well, here's my comfort. [drinks.

The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
    the gunner, and his mate,
lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marrian, and Margery,
  but none of us car'd for Kate:
  for she had a tongue with a tang,
  would cry to a sailor, Go, hang;
she lov'd not the favour of tar nor of pitch,
yet a tailor might scratch her where-e'er she did itch:
  then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.
This is a scurvy tune too: But here's my comfort. [drinks.

Cal.

Do not torment me: O!

Ste.

What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon's, with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not 'scap'd 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 breaths at nostrils. ^note

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; he shall pay for him, that hath him, and that soundly.

Cal.

Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: Now Prosper works upon thee.

Ste.

Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat; open your mouth: this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend; open your chaps again.

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 ^note of his friend; his backward voice now is to utter foul speeches, and to detract: If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague: Come, Amen; I will pour some in thy other mouth.

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.14Q0016

Tri.

Stephano,—if thou be'st Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo,—be not afeard,—thy good friend Trinculo.

Ste.

If thou be'st Trinculo, come forth; I'll pull thee by the lesser legs; if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they: [hauling him: he and Cal. rise.] Thou art very Trinculo indeed: How cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? can he vent Trinculo's?

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-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 sprights!
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 but of sack, which the sailors heaved o'er-board, by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast a-shore.

Cal.

I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy true subject; for the liquor is not earthly.

Ste.

Here; swear then how thou escap'dst.

Tri.

Swom a-shore, man, like a duck; I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn.

Ste.

Here, † kiss the book: Though thou can'st swim like a duck, thou art made like a ^note goose.

Tri.

O Stephano, hast any more of this?

Ste.

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

Cal.

Hast thou not dropt from heaven?

Ste.

Out o' th' moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i' th' moon, when time was.

Cal.

I have seen thee in her; and I do adore thee: My mistress shew'd me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush.

Ste.

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

Tri.

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

Cal.
I'll shew thee every fertil inch o'the isle; ^note
And I will kiss thy foot: I pr'ythee, be my god.

Tri.

By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster; when's god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle.

Cal.

I'll kiss thy foot: I'll swear myself thy subject.

Ste.

Come on then; down, and swear.

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 ^note 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 wondrous 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;
Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee
To clust'ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee
Young scamels ^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, [to Cal.] bear my bottle:—Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again.