Introductory matter

PERSONS of the Drama. Alonso, king of Naples, Ferdinand, son to Alonso. Sebastian, brother to Alonso. Abdallah, king of Tunis. Prospero, duke of Milan. Antonio, brother to Prospero. Gonzalo, lord, attending on the king of Naples. Adrian, lord, attending on the king of Naples. Francisco, lord, attending on the king of Naples. Stephano, a drunken butler. Ariel, a spirit. Trinculo, a jester. Caliban, a savage. Master, of the king of Naples' ship. Boatswain, of the king of Naples' ship. Claribel, queen of Tunis. Hyrca, a sorceress. Miranda, betroth'd to Ferdinand. Sycorax, a spirit. Spirits, Mariners, &c. [Burthen], [Mariner], [All], [Fiends] The Scene is dispersed.

PROEM.
Grave Prospero, who charm'd in days of yore,
Was deeply read in magick's wond'rous lore;
Could call forth spirits from the vasty deep,
And their dread power in strong subjection keep;
Marshal the dapper elves, and fairies trim,
By moonlight sporting near the fountain-brim;
In spell-bound service airy forms enroll,
Who ride the rainbow, glance from pole to pole;
And fiends of fire, more fervid than the sun,
Through realms of thrilling ice compel to run:
Wielded Jove's bolt, bade cloud-capt mountains quake,
And the great globe unto its center shake;
Commanding the rude surge to dash the skies,
From their dark beds of clay the dead arise!
What could he not, whom such a Master drew?
To Nature, in his boldest fictions, true!
Whose Ariel, Caliban, ghosts, witches, elves,
Seem Nature's children nearly as ourselves!

But what can the weak Prospero of these scenes,
Divested of all wonder-working means?
Pity, kind Reader! the rude lack of skill
Which traced the potent Sage with feeble quill!
Nor grieve, benignant Spirit! in thy sphere,
Sweet Shakspeare! to my heart of heart most dear!
That e'en the humblest of the scenick train
Should dare to ape thy mighty magick-strain;
But rather, with thy wonted goodness mild,
Forgive, and oh! inspire him, Fancy's Child!

THE VIRGIN QUEEN. ACT I. SCENE I. PROSPERO'S ISLE. Ariel descends, singing.

ARIEL SINGS.
Spirits, who the curl'd clouds ride,
Down slope sun-beams deftly glide;
Through the fissure of the rock,
Rifted by the light'ning's shock,
Fiends, from nether fires ascend;
Nymphs, who on blue Neptune 'tend,
From the sea's pearl-paved bed,
Rear each coral-crowned head;
Elves, the mountain leave, or dell:
  List Ariel's call!
  Assemble all
At your potent master's cell!

Enter Spirits, Fiends, Nymphs, and Elves.

ARIEL SPEAKS.
YE various ministers of Prospero's power,
The spell-bound servitors of his high will!
By whom the mighty worker hath perform'd
Deeds, far beyond the stretch of human thought;
Soon shall our master's staff be buried low,
His magick-volume in the deep sea drown'd:
Strait he'll embark; attend him till on board,
And your last, duteous homage to him pay:
Then to the elements be ever free
T'enjoy his boon, your dear-lov'd liberty!

ARIEL SINGS.
Pure Spirit, fiend, mild nymph, and say,
Your duty done, make holiday!
And each enjoy their full desire;
Pervade the earth, or sea, or fire!
Or, on light pennon, upward fly,
To wanton in the summer sky!
Pure spirit, fiend, mild nymph, and say,
Your duty done, make holiday! Burthen.
Make holiday! Exeunt.

SCENE II. ANOTHER PART OF THE ISLAND. Enter Boatswain, Trinculo, and Mariners.

BOATSWAIN.

Yare! yare!—bear a hand with that stowage; here's a fresh breeze sprung up, and as fair for Italy as heart can wish.

TRINCULO.

And where's the wonder o'that?—did not the fairy promise old grey-beard as much?—and your true fairies are no courtiers.

BOATSWAIN.

A fairy promise?—why, what a plague, are we to be puff'd along by the devil and his imps! I don't know what to make of this conjuration! and as for duke Prospero, I'm a lubber if I think him a jot better than an old wizard!

TRINCULO.

Between ourselves, boatswain, I take him to be a kind of friar Bacon, or doctor Faustus; that I heard so many tales about, in England: and like them, he has sold himself to the devil in the next world, that he may be able to play

the devil in this: which he did, with a vengeance, when he wreck'd us on this isle of devils!

BOATSWAIN.

Avast!—I wish he be not at some of his diabolical tricks again!—'twas as clear a morn as ever shone but now; and, lo! on a sudden, how it is overcast!

And see!—and hark!—heigh, how it rumbles!

TRINCULO.

'Mass! I fear mischief's a-foot! and here comes Stephano in a parlous taking.

STEPHANO.

Oh, oh, oh! deliver me from such a sight again!—boatswain! Trinculo! I have been so scared!

BOATSWAIN.

With what, I trow?

STEPHANO.

The conjuring duke has been sinking his necromancy-book to the bottom of the red-sea

here—it can be no other!—breaking his magical-stick, and burying it half-way to Belzebub; which has caused such a clatter among the elements, that I thought dooms-day was come, at least!

BOATSWAIN.

I'm no seaman, if I relish this same witchcraft! —and the old magick-monger is going aboard too!—I wish we get safe to port!—I doubt it:—I'd as lief sail with a corpse as a conjuror!

TRINCULO.

By'r lady, boatswain, I'm of your mind! I shall never dare to walk the deck after dark, Stephano, much less keep watch there all night, as he once said we should, for dread of spirits, and hobgoblins.

STEPHANO.

The bare thought of it gives me the shaking palsy, fellow Trinculo!—he were fitter to watch o'nights himself, and let servant-monster be his mate: then, if any goblins should board us, they could gibber with them in their own infernal dialect.

BOATSWAIN.

He don't intend, I hope, to take that land-shark

aboard;—an' he do not keep him in an iron cage, he'll devour all the ship's provisions, and tear us to pieces for more.

TRINCULO,

Who? Caliban? not he, o'my troth!—though he be a monster, he's a tame one; and no glutton neither:—give him but the bottle, you stop his mouth at once.

STEPHANO.

Now you talk of the bottle, Trinculo, I think a sup of it would do me no harm, after the panick I have been in; what say ye to some sack, boys, before we set sail?

TRINCULO.

Ay, and after too; for I quake horribly with apprehension.

STEPHANO.

Follow, then;—the rock, my wine-cellar, is in our way to where the ship rides: and our word shall be, no night-watching! for fear of spirits and hobgoblins!

TRINCULO.

Ay, spirits and hobgoblins!—'mercy on us! say I, and send us all safe to Naples!

SCENE III. ANOTHER PART OF THE ISLAND. Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, Miranda, and Caliban.

CALIBAN.
No, 'pr'ythee, Prosper, do not leave me here
'Mong'st fiends and spirits; who, when thou'rt not by
To shield him, will lone Caliban devour!

PROSPERO.
Be satisfied;—there's nought to apprehend.
In Neptune's bed my magick-volume sunk,
And many fathoms earth'd my broken staff,
Upon this isle no spirit will abide
Of good or evil, to delight or fear:—
Puppets and elves shall gambol here no more,
In sportive ringlets, by pale Hecate's gleam;—
No more shall hideous spectres scare thee home,
Loit'ring and grumbling at thy bidden task;—
For, when I leave thee, thou'lt be more alone
Than when, with Ariel pent i'th' cloven pine,
A shapeless, helpless thing, I prowling found thee.

CALIBAN.
Which loneliness I now mislike and dread,
More than thy sprites and fiends; 'custom'd to sort
With monkies, apes, baboons, I felt not, ere

My noble lord came here, it's irksomeness;
But thou hast taught it me: then leave me not,
I pr'ythee!—take me hence!—I'll lick thy feet,
And ever be obedient to controul.

PROSPERO.
What says Miranda? does my child approve
We take our late offending vassal hence?

CALIBAN.
Speak for me, mistress! I'll be naught no more.

MIRANDA.
I think, dear sir! the creature's much reform'd
Since your forgiveness of his last offence;
And, by commixture with so many men,
He hourly humanizes: pity 'twere
In lonesome wretchedness to leave him now,
The speechless brutes his sole society,
Perforce a savage to become again.

CALIBAN.
Thanks! mistress! thanks!—thou smooth-fac'd man, speak too!

FERDINAND.
'Please you, sir, take him hence; I dare engage
He'll do you duteous service in return.

CALIBAN.
Good now, my king, be mov'd!

PROSPERO.
I am content;
But, have a care! look you deserve this grace!

CALIBAN.
Yea, that I will, in sooth, my noble lord!
In the new world thou goest to, will I dig
For hidden springs, to slake my master's thirst;
Rend thee down fewel; scoop thee a trim cell;
And be in all things meet thy vassal true!

PROSPERO.
Enough;—endeavour to do well, good deeds
Will follow, and beget thee farther favour.

CALIBAN.
Yet grant one other boon, and I am sped!
'Stead of this rugged hide, to 'ray me now
In some sleek garment of my bounteous lord;
Or still yon dolts thy slave will moon-calf call!

PROSPERO.
'Twere not amiss; thou may'st:—but tarry not.

CALIBAN.
I thank thy greatness!—I'll return anon,
And be thy lowly foot-licker for aye! Exit.

PROSPERO.
Miranda! solace ever of my woes!
Beloved Milan thou wilt soon revisit;
Whence, with thy hapless sire, thou wert outcast
By dire ambition, source of ev'ry ill!

MIRANDA.
I scarce can guess what 'tis ambition means;
If ill, I must disclaim it: for all mine
Is center'd in my sire's and Ferd'nand's love!

FERDINAND.
Thou sweetest flow'r that e'er in desert grew!
In whom the dignity of crowned queens
With rural innocence and beauty joins,
Here let me breathe forth—

PROSPERO.
Hush! our friends approach.—
The sugar'd prattle of chaste love, my son!
Howe'er th' enraptur'd maid it may delight,
Or glad the doating parent's list'ning ear,
To each one else insipid is, and dull! Enter Gonzalo.

GONZALO.
My good lord Prospero, I've search'd up and down
This isle of yours, for somewhat to take home;

Some seld-seen rarity, as travellers use:
But, faith and troth, my lord, for aught I see,
Naples or Milan nothing hence can get,
Or valuable, or curious to behold.

PROSPERO.
Yes, my Gonzalo! honour'd friend! to whom
That now I live thence to return I owe!
One thing, at least, to wonder at we'll take;
The mis-created knave you saw ere while,
I now intend—

GONZALO.
Not to take home, I hope!
There were too many monsters, native there,
Else had you ne'er him found, or Milan lost.

PROSPERO.
That we no more will think on, good old lord!
A fault forgiv'n should also be forgot;
Or, like a half-heal'd wound, 'twill fester still,
And rankle at the core.

FERDINAND.
Consummate goodness!

GONZALO.
I'th' name of all that's savage! what comes here?
The thing we spake of, surely, new-attir'd!

Enter Caliban.
Why, how now, sirrah? wherefore this fine change,
From a rough skin to an embroider'd silk?

CALIBAN.
I crav'd this robe, that by yon scoffing apes
I might no more be flouted at, and mock'd;—
They call'd me servant-monster, moon-calf, fish!
Perchance they'll think I am more man-like now;
It may be, but I am not near so warm:
A shaggy hide, from the chill breeze to 'fend,
Is far more worth than 'broider'd silken robe. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, and Anthonio.

PROSPERO.
Welcome, great king! welcome and health to all!
The earth-dividing sea, now smiling calm,
By swarthy Africk and fair Europe beach'd,
Our good keel soon shall plough; soon we, I trust,
Lost Italy regain!

ALONZO.
'Till we arrive,
Most injur'd Prospero! each hour's a year;
So much this beauteous maid I wish to see
My Ferd'nand's bride, thee to thy right restor'd.

ANTHONIO.
Nor shall I know a happy moment, sir!

'Till I, in Milan, formally have made
A public resignation of your seat;
Which that I e'er usurp'd sore smites my heart!

SEBASTIAN.
No soul in Italy but will rejoice
To see my much-lov'd brother, Naples' king,
With Milan's rightful duke, and their 'troth'd heirs! Enter Adrian, and Francisco.

PROSPERO.
Now, sirs, I pray, is all in readiness?

ADRIAN.
All, all, great sir!

FRANCISCO.
Our brave, refitted, ship,
With unfurl'd sails, that swell before the breeze,
Seems, like the mettled racer, ere he start,
Hardly held in, impatient of delay!

PROSPERO.
Here, then, I bid adieu to solitude!—
Farewell the desert wild, the sandy beach,
Where oft, from dawn to dusky e'en, I strain'd
My anxious eye-balls to descry a sail;
Farewell my humble cave, whose flinty bed

My aged body hardiness hath taught,
But ne'er subdued the feelings of my mind:
While some, whose limbs enervate upon down,
Suffer their hearts to harden into stone.
Farewell Adversity;—O, tutor sage!
Still may I practise what of thee I learn'd.
Farewell my sorrows all!—hail! smiling Peace!
And laud we Heaven for this our blest release! Exeunt all but Caliban.

CALIBAN.
Now shall I see the wond'rous, yearn'd-for place,
Where many Prospers, and Mirandas dwell:
He calls it Milan:—I opine 'tis Heaven!
It must, it must! for many such as she
Would make a Heaven e'en of this desert isle! Enter Boatswain, Stephano, and Trinculo.

BOATSWAIN.

Come, bear a hand, ye bibbers! the king and company are just about to embark.

STEPHANO.

I told you, Trinculo, I'd get my bottle out of the pool;—here, lay to—

TRINCULO.

'Thank you, boy! a good voyage to us, and no hobgoblins!

STEPHANO.

Who have we here? my man-monster! and in a guarded jerkin?

TRINCULO.

The goblins stripp'd us, last night, of our share of the frippery; how cam'st thou still so bedeck'd, mooncalf?

CALIBAN.
I am no monster! nor no moon-calf, fools!
Yon' great ones, wiser far than ye! say I'm
A proper man! then henceforth flout no more!

STEPHANO.

Trinculo, the wenches in Italy must look to their hearts now, and we may wear the willow; for there'll be no making love to any purpose, while Signior Caliban is by.

BOATSWAIN.

Belay this prating, and make for the beach; or ye'll be left astern.

TRINCULO.

Come along, Ban!—and, when we are aboard, I'll teach you how to pare your pig-nut nails, against you go a-wooing.

CALIBAN.
Haste thou, vile patch! or here be left alone;
Then, as for food ye faint, ye'll wish in vain

For my long nails, such dainties to unearth:
Prizing what, dolt-like, now ye dare deride! Exit Caliban.

STEPHANO.

Say'st thou so, bully monster? lead the way then; we are for no such dainties: lead on, Moon-calf! farewell, crab-island! Naples a-hoy!—a brisk gale, and no hobgoblins!

TRINCULO.
Ay, Stephano! a brisk gale, and no hobgoblins! Exeunt. SCENE IV. THE BEACH. The Ship in view. Enter Ariel, attended by other Spirits; meeting Prospero, Miranda, Alonso, Ferdinand, Gonzalo, Anthonio, Sebastian, Adrian and Francisco.

ARIEL.
Hail, noble master! still I greet you so;
Though, by your bounty, and your art abjur'd,
I now am free as the surrounding air!

Summon'd by Ariel, the obedient winds
To waft you to fair Italy attend.

PROSPERO.
My dainty chick! my bird! that cancels all
The kindnesses I e'er have shewn to thee!
Are we assembled all, my loving friends?
Where is our servant, Caliban? Enter Caliban, Boatswain, Stephano, and Trinculo.

CALIBAN.
Here, lord!
Thy foot-licker is here—O, Setebos!
What glorious thing is yon', as mountain huge!
Doth firmly rest upon th' unstable sea?
Fanning, with flickering top, the welkin's cheek!
'Tis sure some god, is come to bear us hence
To Milan; which I rightly judg'd was Heaven!

PROSPERO.
None now are wanting; instant' we'll embark:
And, Heaven permitting, Italy soon reach.
Now, my lov'd Ariel, a last adieu!
As mountain-air, or thought unlimited,
To the elements, and through unbounded space,
Delicate spirit! be thou ever free!

ARIEL.
One word, my honour'd master! ere we part.—
Thy grateful servant would, were't possible,
Assure thy voyage clear of doubt or dread;
But that is not permitted! all he can
Is to advise, and hope his fears are vain.

PROSPERO.
What means my gentle Ariel?—spirit, speak!

ARIEL.
Returning from my quest of favouring winds,
As, near the summit of a burning mount,
E'en now, I was descending to this spot;
A sulph'rous demon, issuing from it's vent.
Pour'd most unwelcome tidings in mine ear!

PROSPERO.
Say on, if they import or mine or me!

ARIEL.
The spirit of that foul witch, Sycorax,
Who died, thou know'st, upon this isle, great sir!
From the blue lake of fire, wherein 'twas plung'd,
Will soon be loos'd, till the dread day of doom!
Pow'r she will have to cleave th' intrenchant air,
And gird with trackless zone both land and sea;
But, as her passions ever earthly were,

And she was native of dark Africk's clime,
On earth, in Africk only, can she harm.
For that her son's your slave, the fiend beware!
Touch not at land, sir! 'till your port you gain;
Where once arriv'd, you may abide secure.

PROSPERO.
Thanks for thy caution, virtue's constant friend!
Though, surely, I can have no cause of fear.
Heaven knows I foster'd carefully her son;
That, at his earnest suit, I take him hence,
From solitude to free him, not enslave;
Nor will I basely leave him now, albeit
With hags and fiends no longer can I cope:
But, on th' Omnipotent, most firm, rely!
Who, if the variegated earth we tread,
Or plough the printless bosom of the deep,
Is equally our pilot, guide, and guard!
All-ruling! ever-watchful! good and just!

ARIEL.
Now, sir, embark; and, as I wish, be blest!
Farewell, sweet mistress! ever mild-and pure!
Farewell, good master! cheerily on board!
That I corporeal were, t' embrace my lord!
Approach, ye spirits!—'would I mortal were
One moment, to distil the tender tear!

Whilst Prospero, &c. embark, Ariel sings, and the other Spirits bear the burthen of the Ditty.

ARIEL SINGS.
NO more by moonlight shall be seen,
Upon this isle's enamell'd green,
Or on the yellow sands and shelves,
In sportive dance, the fairy-elves;
Since thy low dell, and rock-roof'd cell,
Thou now forsak'st. Farewell! Farewell! Burthen,
Farewell! Farewell!
To bid adieu, lov'd master, hark!
Thy faithful watch-dogs hoarsely bark;
And thy departure blithe to cheer,
Loud crows the shrill-ton'd chanticlere.
A parting knell, with tuneful shell,
The sea-nymphs sound; ding, ding, dong, bell! Burthen,
Ding, ding, dong, bell! Exeunt. END OF ACT THE FIRST.

ACT II. SCENE I. A CABIN IN THE KING OF NAPLES' SHIP AT SEA Enter Anthonio, and Sebastian.

ANTHONIO.
Tush! tell not me; i'th' night we might have done't:
Instead of this, 'would I had stay'd behind,
In yon' lone isle to reign, a rock my throne,
And been both lord and subject to myself!

SEBASTIAN.
But, will you hear? think not I mean you should,
Through Milan-streets, page Prospero's proud heels;
Like captive king in Roman victor's train.

ANTHONIO.
Nor will I ever, come what may instead!
Death! to be hooted by a senseless rabble,
The scorn of slaves who knelt i' th' mire to me!
Deserted and despis'd! no refuge left,
Unless to shave my crown, turn whining monk,
And supplicate for scanty dole of bread!

SEBASTIAN.
You apprehend too quickly; I no more
Than you mean tamely to return, and live
Obscure in Naples, where I thought to rule;
And yet intend: as thou may'st still in Milan.

ANTHONIO.
At length thou speak'st; say on! I am all attention!

SEBASTIAN.
Vainly 'gainst Prosp'ro's art we had contended;
But, mark our fortune! ere on board he came,
His wand he brake, and drown'd his magick book:
Foregoing, nay abjuring, most fool-like,
The only means by which we had been foil'd!

ANTHONIO.
'Tis true!

SEBASTIAN.
We're equal now! and, by a deed,
The world, were't known, might villainy miscall,
Ere we arrive at Italy's lov'd shore,

We'll lay in an eternal, dreamless, sleep,
Alonso, Prosp'ro, Ferdinand, nay all!

ANTHONIO.
Impossible! so closely we're observ'd!

SEBASTIAN
Go to! to men like us resolv'd, 'tis easy!
For, in the night, whose next morn lights us home,
Can we but get the boat, nay even a plank
Whereon to float ourselves, to th' crew unknown;
We'll sink or fire the ship, whence none can 'scape!
Then to th' amazed multitude on shore,
With hypocritick wailing, tell a tale
Of wreck, and deaths; and reign compleatly blest!

ANTHONIO.
My Delphick oracle! it shall be done!
I' th' ship shall they find death, i' th' sea a grave,
Where they may ever rest! here break we off—
Our faces mask in smiles, and 'tend the king,
Lest our retirement should be marvell'd at;
Confirming th' adage as we play our parts—
Fair visages oft cover foulest hearts! Exeunt.

SCENE II. THE DECK. Stephano, Triculo, and Caliban.

STEPHANO.

Now, Ban! how do you stomach sailing? is't not rare to skim like a gull thus, 'twixt wind and water? how dost like it, eh?

CALIBAN.
I like it much! This is a brave, fine god!
And bears us daintily;—how swift he is!
He scuds the ocean fleet as fawn the earth!
O, that my dam were living to behold him!
Grim Setebos she would renounce with scorn;
Low, prostrate, fall with me; and thus adore! [kneeling.]

TRINCULO.
What's i' the wind, now, 'trow?

CALIBAN.
Thou unmatch'd wonder!—miracle of pow'r!
Hear thy vow'd vassal's pray'r, and grant his suit!
Give me but vengeance on my tyrant lord,
(Whom, tho' I feign'd repentance, I detest!)

And in these arms his daughter once to clip,
I'll ever be thy bond-slave worshipper! [Rising.

TRINCULO.

So! the apostate has got him a new idol, Stephano; you may return to your dog and bush again; he'll worship you no more.

CALIBAN.

What means this giddiness?—I cannot stand!

TRINCULO.

And note, if the moon-calf be not drunk too!

STEPHANO.

Out, you ninny!—'tis only the ship's motion makes him stagger so; as it did me erewhile.

TRINCULO.

By'r lady, and so it may;—but a sherris-sack was mix'd with the ship's motion when you caught the staggers.

CALIBAN.
Sure I'm become what they call drunk again!
But know not how;—for, save mere element,
Nought have I swallow'd since I left the island.

TRINCULO.
How he reels!

CALIBAN.
I pr'ythee shew where I may lie and sleep,
That Prosper see me not: else he will chide!

STEPHANO.

Why, surely, the shallow-brain'd ideot thinks himself drunk indeed!

TRINCULO.

A rare conceit!—we'll humour it;—and, while he is napping, if we can find the old necromancer in the mood, try to get off keeping watch here at night.

STEPHANO.

Agreed.—Come along, you drunken owl! and we'll lead you where you may roost in safety, 'till your are sober.

CALIBAN.

But am I drunk in sooth?—I pr'ythee, say!

TRINCULO.

Drunk, quotha? there's a question!—ay, reeling-ripe, as when the piping fairy led us by

the ears into the pool; then, indeed, it was with sack: now, only with the ship's motion:—but a small matter will turn a weak head!

CALIBAN.
Give me sack now! for I can but be drunk!
'Twill drown my fear, and make me full of mirth;
I may as well be jocund-drunk, as sad:—
Give me some sack, I pr'ythee, ere I sleep!

STEPHANO.

Here's a flaggon for you, fish!—the king in the cabin can't drink better.

CALIBAN.
'Tis passing good! a king 'twill make of me!
This shall my pillow be;—I'll drink and sleep;
Nor dread sour Prosper, while of this I've store.

SINGS.
I gather'd ripe clusters of grapes from the vine,
Then champ'd 'em, and swill'd 'em, rejoic'd so to dine;
Yet, like a dull ass, was raid, beaten, and jeer'd,
Of adder, ape, urchin, and goblin afear'd!
But, liquor celestial now, plenteous, I quaff.
At adder, ape, urchin, and goblin can laugh;
Ho, ho, ho; ho, ho, ho! I now should not fear,
Though Prosper and all his curst spirits were here. Exeunt.

SCENE III. THE KING'S CABIN. Enter Ferdinand.

FERDINAND.
How blest a change hath in few hours been wrought,
From dread of death to views of happiest life!
My royal sire preserv'd; a most rare bride
By heav'n, her father, and herself bestow'd:
What could I more have wish'd? how this deserve? Enter Miranda.

MIRANDA.
My life, my lord, my Ferdinand! where art thou?

FERDINAND.
What means my love? and why this war of white
Against the damask roses of thy cheek?

MIRANDA.
Thou wilt not marvel when thou shalt have heard!—
Yet, can it be? can beauteous, godlike man,
Who bears his great creator's face and form,

The continent of an immortal soul,
His heavenly nature by such deeds debase!

FERDINAND.
Thou talk'st in riddles, dearest! be more plain.

MIRANDA.
Those villain lords,—I tremble while I speak,—
Anthonio and Sebastian, I've o'erheard
Plot a most savage cruelty; and doom
Us all to perish, that themselves may reign!
Resolving, ere we reach th' intended port,
(For their own safety taking first good care)
To burn or sink the ship, and all therein.

FERDINAND.
Well might'st thou, trembling, wonder such could be!
Yet, fear no harm; their foul intent foreknown,
Shall make us guard from that, and ev'ry ill:
Nor think, O purest maid! for they are base,
That the whole race of mankind is the same.

MIRANDA.
That were, sweet love! too simple even in me;
Tho' all unread i'th' peopled world's great book.
Our isle's small page hath school'd me better lore!
My father comes! shield him, all gracious heaven!

Enter Prospero.

PROSPERO.
Wherefore these looks and accents of alarm?
Say, hath there chanc'd any unused event?
Or know you aught to come gives cause of fear?

FERDINAND.
I trust there's none, sir;—but, those treach'rous
Lords, Sebastian and Anthonio, link'd in vice!
Miranda hath o'erheard, remorseless, doom
Their nearest blood, Alonso, thee, nay all!
By sea, or fire, to unprepar'd-for death!

PROSPERO.
And are these wretches men? of women born?
Of kin and kind with us?—retire, retire!
Stay not to see my weakness, should I weep
To think my mother such a monster bore!
Nor he frail Nature's only blot and shame!
Retire, my children;—nay, I pray you go!—

FERDINAND.
Miranda, come!—let us obey thy sire;
And warn, while absent from him, all our friends,
To guard against those villains' dire design.

MIRANDA.
My father! O, my father! guard him, heaven! Exeunt Ferdinand, and Miranda.

PROSPERO.
O monstrous! monstrous! wicked, horrid pair!
Worse than the beast I rear'd; who, tho'hell-born,
More human is than these most cursed fiends!
Their plot, thus timely known, must prove abortive;
But the intention I'll severely punish! Enter Trinculo, and Stephano.

TRINCULO.

There, there he is!—we have caught him alone at last.—Now to try if we can get off keeping watch!—He seems but in a crabbed humour tho;—if I had not taken a cheering draught, I should not dare to accost him.

STEPHANO.

He can't conjure the cramp into us now, you know;—so, we may venture safe enough:— hem!—may it please your highness—

PROSPERO.

How now! what means this bold intrusion, slaves!

STEPHANO.

Heaven defend us from cramp, ague, and palsy!

TRINCULO.

And may t'other place keep lock'd-up all the ghosts, devils, and hobgoblins!

PROSPERO.

Hence, drunken fools! upon the deck; away!

TRINCULO.

O lord! that's the very place we want to shun! —it's almost sunset;—and I would not stay upon deck when 'tis dark to be duke of Milan.

STEPHANO.

Nor I, though I might marry your highness's fair daughter.

PROSPERO.

What say the brainless dolts of duke and daughter? Foul drunkards, hence! and consort with the monster.

TRINCULO.

The monster is now sleeping off his drunkenness; —good your grace! let him watch while we sleep off ours.

PROSPERO.

Has he! has Caliban been drunk again?

STEPHANO.

So drunk, an't please you! that we were forc'd

to lead him to his kennel; where he lay, cursing your highness, and swallowing sack, 'till he fell fast asleep.

PROSPERO.

Haste!—'rouse, and drag th' incorrigible hither!

STEPHANO.

Here will be sad work, I doubt, Trinculo.

TRINCULO.

O for a whirlwind now, to carry us out of his unmerciful clutches!