The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

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 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 mar

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,- riage? Ant. Ha, ha, ha!

Seb. So, you're paid.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccesSeb. Yet

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not miss't.

[sible,

Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.
Seb. Of that there's none, or little.
Gon. How lush1 and lusty the grass looks! how
Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny. [green!
Seb. With an eye2 of green in 't.
Ant. He misses not much.

Se. No: he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit

Seb. As many vouch'd 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 lies?

Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, 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! How came that widow in? Widow Dido!

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

A. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. 1 Luscious. 2 Tint.

Al. You cram these words into mine ears, against The stomach of my sense. Would I had never Married 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?

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.1 Gon.-And were the King on't, what would I do? Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine. G. I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil: 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 commonwealth
forgets the beginning.
[produce
Gon. All things in common, Nature should
Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
Would Inot have; but Nature should bring forth,
Of its own kind, all foison,2 all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

I would with such perfection govern, sir,
T'excel the golden age.

Seb.

'Save his majesty! Ant. Long live Gonzalo ! Gon. And, do you mark me, sir?Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost taik 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 fall'n 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.

Enter Ariel, playing solemn Music. 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.

[All sleep but Alon., Seb., and Ant. Al. What! all so soon asleep? I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: They are inclined to do so. [I find Seb.

Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow: when it doth,

It is a comforter.

Alon. Thank you.-Wondrous heavy. [Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses Ant. It is the quality o' th' climate. [them! Seb. Why Doth it not, then, our eyelids sink? I find not Myself dispos'd to sleep.

Ant.
Nor I: my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all as by consent; [might,
They dropp'd as by a thunder-stroke. What
Worthy Sebastian?-O! what might? No
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face, [more:-
What thou should'st be. Th' 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 didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, mov-
And yet so fast asleep.
[ing,
Ant.
Noble Sebastian.
Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st
Whiles thou are 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.

Hereditary sloth instructs me.
Ant.

Do so: to ebb,

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)
The King, his son's alive, 'tis as impossible
That he's undrown'd, as he that sleeps here,
Seb.
I have no hope [swims.

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 discovery there. Will you grant,
That Ferdinand is drown'd?
[with me,
Scb.
Ant.

He's gone.
Then, tell me,
Who's the next heir of Naples?

Claribel.

[dwells

Seb. Ant. She that is Queen of Tunis; she that Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from

Naples

Can have no note, unless the sun were post, (The man i'th'moon's too slow)till new-born chins Be rough and razorable; she, from whom

We all were sea-swallowed, though some cast And by that destiny to perform an act, [again; Whereof what's past is prologue, 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 who's every cubit Seems to cry out, "How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake!"-Say, this were death That now hath seized them; why, they were no [Naples Than now they are. There be, that can rule As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate As amply, and unnecessarily,

worse

As this Gonzalo: I myself could make

A chough1 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 well my garments sit upon me; Much feater than before. My brother's servants Were then my fellows, now they are my men. Seb. But for your conscience

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if 'twere a kybe,2 "Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not This deity in my bosom. Twenty consciences, That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they, And melt,ere theymolest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, [dead, If he were that which now he's like,-that's 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, this Sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course: for all the rest,
They'll take 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
And I the King shall love thee. [pay'st,
Ant.
Draw together;
And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.
Seb.

O! but one word. [They converse apart.

While you here do snoring lie, Open-ey'd conspiracy

His time doth take.

If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake! Awake!

Ant. Then let us both be sudden.
Gon. Now, good angels preserve the King!
[They wake
Alon. Why, how now, hoa! awake! Why are
Wherefore this ghastly looking! [you drawn?
Gon.
What's the matter?
Seb. Whiles westood here securing your repose,
Like bulls, or rather lions: did't not wake you?
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
It struck mine ear most terribly.
Alon.
I heard nothing.
To make an earthquake: sure, it was the roar
Ant. O! 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear,
Of a whole herd of lions.

Alon.
Heard you this, Gonzalo?
Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a hum-

And that a strange one, too,-which did awake
ming-
[me.
I saw their weapons drawn.-There was a noise,
I shak'd you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd,
That's verity: 'tis best we stand upon our guard,
Or that we quit this place. Let's draw our
weapons.

4. Lead off this ground, and let's make farther For my poor son. [search Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts, For he is, sure, i' th' island. Alon. Lead away. [Exeunt. Ari. Prospero, my lord, shall know what I So, King, go safely on to seek thy son. have done:

[Exit.

By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse; but they'll nor pinch,
Fright mewith urchin1 shows, pitch me i' th'mire,
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid 'em. But

For every trifle are they set upon me: [at me,
Sometime like apes, that mowe2 and chatter
And after, bite me; then like hedgehogs, which
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount
Their pricks at my footfall: 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; Perchance he will not mind me.

Trin. 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 bumbard3 that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, 1 Fairy. 2 Make mouths. 8 Leathern jack.

Open your mouth: this will shake your shaking,
I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell
who's your friend; open your chaps1 again.
Trin. I should know that voice. It should be

Ste. Four legs, and two voices! a most delicate monster. 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. Trin. Stephano!

as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls.-What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind-but he is drown'd, and these are devils. 0! of, not of the newest, Poor-John. A strange fish! defend me !Were I in England now (as once I was), and had but this fish 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. Legg'd like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion-hold it no longer,this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered 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 bedfellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past.

Enter Stephano, singing.

STE. I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die ashore.-

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's
funeral.

[Drinks.

Well, here's my comfort.
The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
The gunner and his mate,

Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marion, 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:"
Then, to sea, boys, and let her go hang.
This is a scurvy tune too; but here's my comfort.
Cal. Do not torment me: 0! [Drinks.
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 'scaped drowning,
to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath
been said, as proper a man as ever went on
four legs cannot make him give ground; and it
shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes
at's nostrils.

Cal. The spirit torments me: O!

Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language! I will give him some relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather.

Cal. Do not torment me, pr'ythee: I'll bring my wood home faster.

Ste. He's in his fit now, and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him: he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly. Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, [upon thee. I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works Ste. Come on your ways: open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat.

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.

Trin. Stephano!-if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me, for I am Trinculobe not afeard-thy good friend Trinculo.

Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I'll pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed! How cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf?

Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunderstroke.-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!

stomach is not constant.
Ste. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about: my
[sprites.

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

Ste. How didst thou 'scape? How cam'st thou hither? Swear by this bottle how thou cam'st hither. I escap'd upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved o'erboard, by this bottle!which I made of the bark of a tree with mine own hands, since I was cast ashore.

Cal. I'll swear upon that bottle, to be thy true For the liquor is not earthly. [subject; Ste. Here: swear, then, how thou escap'dst. Trin. Swam ashore, man, like a duck. I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn.

Ste. Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. Trin. O Stephano! hast any more of this?

Ste. The whole butt, 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 dropp'd from heaven? Ste. Out o' th' moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i' th' moon, when time was. [thee: Cal. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore My mistress show'd me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush.

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

Trin. By this good light, this is a very shallow monster:-I afeard of him?-a very weak monster.-The man i' th' moon!--a most poor credulous monster.-Well drawn, monster, in good sooth. [island;

Cal. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' And I will kiss thy foot. I'll swear myself thy subject.

Ste. Come on, then: down, and swear. Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy monster: 1 could find in my heart to beat him,Ste. Come, kiss.

Trin.-But that the poor monster's in drink. An abominable monster! [thee berries; C. I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck 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.

Trin. A most ridiculous monster,—to make a wonder of a poor drunkard! [grow; Cal. I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs 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 marmozet. I'll bring thee To clustering filberds; and sometimes I'll get [with me? Young seamells1 from the rock: Wilt thou go Ste. I pr'ythee now, lead the way, without any more talking.-Trinculo, the King and all our company else being drown'd, we will inherit here.-Here; bear my bottle.-Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him, by and by, again.

thee

Cal. [Sings drunkenly.] Farewell, master; farewell, farewell.

Tri. A howling monster; a drunken monster.
CAL. No more dams I'll make for fish;
Nor fetch in firing
At requiring,

Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish;
'Ban 'Ban, Ca-Caliban,

Has a new master-get a new man. Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom! hey-day, freedom!

Ste. O brave monster! lead the way. [Exeunt.

Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters
Point to rich ends. This my mean task
Would be as heavy to me, as odious; but
The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours pleasures. Oh! she is
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed:
And he's composed of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,
Upon a sore injunction. My sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such
baseness

Had never like executor. I forget:
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my
Most busiest when I do it.
[labours;
Enter Miranda, and Prospero at a distance.
Mira.
Alas! now, pray you,
1 Gulls.

Work not so hard: I would the lightning had
Burnt up those logs that you are enjoined to pile.
Pray, set it down, and rest you: when this burns,
"Twill weep for having wearied you. My father
Is hard at study: pray now rest yourself:
He's safe for these three hours.
Fer.
'O! most dear mistress,
The sun will set before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.
Mira.
If you'll sit down,
I'll bear your logs the while. Pray, give me
I'll carry it to the pile.
[that:
Fer.
No, precious creature;
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.
Mira.
It would become me
As well as it does you; and I should do it
With much more ease, for my good will is to it,
And yours it is against.
Pro.
Poor worm! thou art infected;

This visitation shows it.
Mira.

You look wearily. Fer. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me,

When you are by at night. I do beseech you,Chiefly that I might set it in my prayersWhat is your name?

Mira.

Miranda.-O my father! I have broke your 'hest to say so. Fer. Admir'd Miranda! Indeed, the top of admiration; worth What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues Have I lik'd several women; never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd And put it to the foil: but you, O you! So perfect, and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best.

Mira. I do not know One of my sex; no woman's face remember, Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen More that I may call men, than you, good friend, And my dear father. How features are abroad, I am skill-less of; but, by my modesty (The jewel in my dower), I would not wish Any companion in the world but you; Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of.-But I prattle Something too wildly; and my father's precepts I therein do forget. Fer. I am, in my condition, A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king; (I would, not so !) and would no more endure This wooden slavery, than to suffer The flesh-fly blow my mouth.-Hear my soul The very instant that I saw you, did [speak: My heart fly to your service,-there resides, To make me slave to it; and for your sake, Am I this patient log-man. Mira. Do you love me? [sound, Fer. O heaven! O earth! bear witness to this And crown what I profess with kind event, If I speak true; if hollowly, invert What best is boded me, to mischief! L

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