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Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs,
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot."
Of the king's ship,
The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd,"
And all the rest o' the fleet?
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-vex'd Bermoothes,' there she's hid:
The mariners all under hatches stowed;
Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd la-
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,2
Bound sadly home for Naples;
Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd,
And his great person perish.
Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work:
What is the time o' the day?
Past the mid season.
Pro. At least two glasses: the time 'twixt six
Must by us both be spent most preciously.
Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give
Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd ine.
How now? moody?
I do not, sir.
Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou
The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age, and envy,
Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?
Ari. No, sir.
Thou hast where was she born?
speak; tell me.
Ari. Sir, in Argier.'
O, was she so? I must,
Once in a month, recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch, Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know'st, was banished; for one thing she
They would not take her life. Is not this true?
Ari. Av, sir.
Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought|
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant:
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
(2) Wave. (3) Algiers.
Mira. The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.
Shake it off; come on; slave, who never
'Tis a villain, sir,
We'll visit Caliban, my
Yields us kind answer.
But, as 'tis,
I do not love to look on.
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood; and serves in offices
That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!
Thou earth, thou! speak.
Cal. [Within.] There's wood enough within.
Pro. Come forth, I say; there's other business
Come forth, thou tortoise! when?
And blister you all o'er!
Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have
Side-stiches, 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-combs, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made them.
I must eat my dinner.
This island's mine, by Sycorax, my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest first,
Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me;
would'st give me
Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness; I have us'd thee,
Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodg'd thee
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
The honour of my child.
Cal. O ho, O ho!-'would it had been done!
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.
Which any print of goodness will not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each
One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known: But thy vile
Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good
Water with berries in't; and teach me how
To name the bigger light, and how the less,
That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee,
And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place,
It sounds no more:-and sure, it waits upon
Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wreck,
This music crept by me upon the waters;
Allaying both their fury, and my passion,
With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me rather :-But 'tis gone,
No, it begins again.
Cursed be I that did so!-All the charms
Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
For I am all the subjects that you have,
Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest of the island.
Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confin'd into this rock,
Who hadst 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 ride you,
For learning me your language!
Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou were best,
To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?
If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly
What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps;
Fill all thy bones with aches: make thee roar,
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.
Cal. No, 'pray thee!
I must obey: his art is of such power,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.
So, slave; hence!
Re-enter Ariel, invisible, playing and singing;
Ferdinand following him.
Fer. Where should this music be? i' the air, or the earth?
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! ow I hear them,-ding-dong, bell.
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 seest yond'.
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
As we have, such: this gallant which thou seest
Was in the wreck; and but he's something stain'd
With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou might'st
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,
And strays about to find them.
I might call him
A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.
It goes on,
As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll
Within two days for this.
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, or no?
But, certainly a maid.
No wonder, sir;
My language? heavens
I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken.
How! the best?
What wert thou, if the king of Napies heard thee 1
(3) Still, silent.
Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples: he does hear me ; And, that he does, I weep: myself am Naples; Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The king my father wreck'd.
They have chang'd eyes :-Delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this!-A word, good sir;
I fear, you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently?
Is the third man that ere I saw; the first
That ere I sigh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!
Alack, for mercy!
Fer. So they are: My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, Milan The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats, To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison, once a day,
And his brave son, being twain.
The duke of Milan, And his more braver daughter, could control' thee, Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth If now it were fit to do 't. At the first sight Let liberty make use of; space enough Have I in such a prison. Pro.
O, if a virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The queen of Naples.
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Aside. Make the prize light.-One word more; I charge thee,
Soft, sir; one word more.-All They are both in either's powers: but this swift business
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.
I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy has more power.
Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward;1
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.
No, as I am a man.
Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such
If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with 't.
Speak not you for him; he's a traitor.-Come,
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:
Sea-water shalt thou drink, thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks,
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful.2
What, I say,
My foot my tutor!-Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy
Beseech you, father!
Pro. Hence; hang not on my garments.
Sir, have pity;
I'll be his surety.
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.
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 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.
My affections Are then most humble; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man.
(2) Frightful. -(3) Guard.
It works:-Come on.-
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel Follow me.-
[To Ferd. and Mira.
Hark, what thou else shalt do`me. [To Ariel.
Be of comfort,
My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.
Thou shalt be as free
As mountain winds: but then exactly do
points of my command.
To the syllable.
Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt.
SCENE I-Another part of the island. Enter
Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,
Francisco, and others.
Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have
(So have we all) of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss: our hint of wo
Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
The masters of some merchant, and the merchant,
Have just our theme of wo: but for the miracle,
mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.
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. When every grief is entertain'd, that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer
Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you proposed.
Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.
Gon. Therefore, my lord,
Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
Alon. 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 desert,
Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against
Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,-The stomach of my sense: 'would I had never
Ant. He could not miss it.
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,
Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange ish
Hath made his meal on thee!
Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.
Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.
Ar. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or, as 'twere perfumed 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.
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
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd green!
Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb. With an eye of
Ant. He misses not much.
Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.
Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is, indeed, al-That would not bless our Europe with your daughmost beyond credit-)
Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are. Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched 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. Av, 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.
Alr. 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 he had said, widower Æneas too? good lord, how you take it!
Alr. Widow Did, said you? you make me
study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.
Gon. This Tunis, sir, was 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. S, 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. 0, widow Dido; av, widow Dido.
Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,-
Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.
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 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; no use of service,
Of riches or of poverty; no contracts,
Successions; 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 :-
And yet he would be king on't.
Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth for-
Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first gets the beginning.
day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.
Gon. All things in common nature should produce. Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,
Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
(1) Temperature. (2) Rank. (3) Shade of colour.
(4) Degree or quality. (5) The rack.
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Whiles thou art waking.
Of its own kind, all foizon,' all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.
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. 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.
Ant. Long live Gonzalo!
'Save his majesty!
Do so: to ebb,
Seb. Well; I am standing water. Ant. I'll teach you how to flow. Seb. And, do you mark me, sir?-Hereditary sloth instructs me. Ant. Alon. 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.
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.
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.
Enter Ariel, invisible, playing solemn music. Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Ani. 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. 1. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes , with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find, They are inclined to do so.
Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.
We two, my lord,
Will guard your person, while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
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.
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
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 swims.
Seb. I have no hope
That he's undrown'd.
O, out of that no hope,
What great hope have you! no hope, that way,
Another way so high a hope, that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with
That Ferdinand is drown'd?
Thank you wondrous heavy.
[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel.
Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.
Doth it not then our eye-lids sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.
Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian?-0, what might?-No more:-
And yet methinks, I see it in thy face,
What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee;
Who's the next heir of Naples?
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 whom
We were all sea-swallowed, though some cast again;
And, by that, destin'd to perform an act,
Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come,
In yours and my discharge.
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.
Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st
Then, tell me,
What, art thou waking?
Ant. Do you not hear me speak?
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, moving,|__ Ant.
And yet so fast asleep.
A space whose 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 seiz'd them; why, they were no
Than now they are: there be, that can rule Na-
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.
And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?
(2) A bird of the jack-daw kind.