text: William Shakespeare The Tempest 
   
   
     
   DRAMATIS PERSONAE 
   
  ALONSO, King of Naples 
  SEBASTIAN, his Brother 
  PROSPERO, the right Duke of Milan 
  ANTONIO, his Brother, the usurping Duke of Milan 
  FERDINAND, Son to the King of Naples 
  GONZALO, an honest old counsellor 
  ADRIAN, Lord 
  FRANCISCO,Lord 
  CALIBAN, a savage and deformed Slave 
  TRINCULO, a Jester 
  STEPHANO, a drunken Butler 
  MASTER OF A SHIP 
  BOATSWAIN 
  MARINERS 
   
  MIRANDA, Daughter to Prospero 
   
  ARIEL, an airy Spirit   
   
  IRIS, presented by Spirits 
  CERES, presented by Spirits 
  JUNO, presented by Spirits 
  NYMPHS, presented by Spirits 
  REAPERS, presented by Spirits 
   
  Other Spirits attending on Prospero 
   
   
  SCENE: 
  The sea, with a Ship; afterwards an Island 
   
   
  THE TEMPEST 
   
  ACT 1 
  SCENE 1 
  [On a ship at sea; a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard] 
   
  [Enter a SHIPMASTER and a BOATSWAIN severally] 
   
  MASTER. 
  Boatswain! 
   
  BOATSWAIN. 
  Here, master: what cheer? 
   
  MASTER. 
  Good! Speak to the mariners: fall to't yarely, or 
  we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.  
   
  [Exit] 
   
  [Enter MARINERS] 
   
  BOATSWAIN. 
  Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! 
  yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to th' master's 
  whistle. - Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough. 
   
  [Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO, and OTHERS] 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master?  
  Play the men. 
   
  BOATSWAIN. 
  I pray now, keep below. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Where is the master, boson? 
   
  BOATSWAIN. 
  Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: 
  keep your cabins: you do assist the storm. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Nay, good, be patient. 
   
  BOATSWAIN. 
  When the sea is. Hence! What cares these 
  roarers for the name of king? To cabin! silence! Trouble us not. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard. 
   
  BOATSWAIN. 
  None that I more love than myself. You are 
  counsellor: if you can command these elements to 
  silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not 
  hand a rope more. Use your authority: if you cannot, give 
  thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready 
  in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so 
  hap. - Cheerly, good hearts! - Out of our way, I say. 
   
  [Exit] 
   
  GONZALO. 
  I have great comfort from this fellow. Methinks 
  he hath no drowning mark upon him: his complexion is  
  perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging! 
  make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth 
  little advantage! If he be not born to be hang'd, our 
  case is miserable. 
   
  [Exeunt] 
   
  [Re-enter BOATSWAIN] 
   
  BOATSWAIN. 
  Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! 
  Bring her to try wi' th' maincourse. [A cry within] A 
  plague upon this howling! They are louder than the 
  weather or our office. -  
   
  [Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO] 
   
  Yet again! What do you here? Shall we give o'er, and 
  drown? Have you a mind to sink? 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, 
  incharitable dog! 
   
  BOATSWAIN. 
  Work you, then. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent noisemaker, 
  we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  I'll warrant him for drowning, though the ship were 
  no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched 
  wench. 
   
  BOATSWAIN. 
  Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses: off 
  to sea again: lay her off. 
   
  [Enter MARINERS, Wet] 
   
  MARINERS. 
  All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! 
   
  [Exeunt] 
   
  BOATSWAIN. 
  What, must our mouths be cold? 
   
  GONZALO. 
  The King and Prince at prayers! let us assist them, 
  For our case is as theirs. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  I am out of patience. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards. -  
  This wide-chapp'd rascal - would thou might'st lie drowning 
  The washing of ten tides! 
   
  GONZALO. 
  He'll be hang'd yet, 
  Though every drop of water swear against it,  
  And gape at wid'st to glut him. 
   
  [A confused noise within: - 'Mercy on us!' -  
  'We split, we split!' - 'Farewell, my wife and children!' -  
  'Farewell, brother!' - 'We split, we split, we split!' - ] 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Let's all sink wi' the King. 
   
  [Exit] 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Let's take leave of him. 
   
  [Exit] 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for 
  an acre of barren ground; long heath, brown furze, any 
  thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain die 
  dry death. 
   
  [Exit] 
   
   
  SCENE 2 
   
  [The Island. Before the cell of PROSPERO] 
   
  [Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA] 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  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 th' welkin's cheek, 
  Dashes the fire out. O! I have suffered 
  With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel, 
  Who had, no doubt, some noble creatures in her, 
  Dash'd all to pieces. O! the cry did knock 
  Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd. 
  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 fraughting souls within her. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Be collected: 
  No more amazement: tell your piteous heart 
  There's no harm done. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  O! woe the day!  
   
  PROSPERO. 
  No harm. 
  I have done nothing but in care of thee, 
  Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who 
  Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing 
  Of whence I am: nor that I am more better 
  Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, 
  And thy no greater father. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  More to know 
  Did never meddle with my thoughts. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  'Tis time 
  I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, 
  And pluck my magic garment from me. - So: 
   
  [Lays down his mantle] 
   
  Lie there my art. - Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. 
  The direful spectacle of the wrack, which touch'd 
  The very virtue of compassion in thee, 
  I have with such provision in mine art 
  So safely ordered that there is no soul -  
  No, not so much perdition as an hair 
  Betid to any creature in the vessel  
  Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down; 
  For thou must now know farther. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  You have often 
  Begun to tell me what I am: but stopp'd, 
  And left me to a bootless inquisition, 
  Concluding 'Stay; not yet.' 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  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. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Certainly, sir, I can. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  By what? By any other house, or person? 
  Of any thing the image, tell me, that 
  Hath kept with thy remembrance. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  '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?  
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it 
  That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else 
  In the dark backward and abysm of time? 
  If thou rememb'rest aught ere thou cam'st here, 
  How thou cam'st here, thou mayst. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  But that I do not. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, 
  Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and 
  A prince of power. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Sir, are not you my father? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  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 
  And princess, - no worse issued. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  O, the heavens! 
  What foul play had we that we came from thence? 
  Or blessed was't we did? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Both, both, my girl. 
  By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence; 
  But blessedly holp hither.  
   
  MIRANDA. 
  O! my heart bleeds 
  To think o' th' teen that I have turn'd you to, 
  Which is from my remembrance. Please you, further. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio -  
  I pray thee, mark me, - that a brother should 
  Be so perfidious! - he, whom next thyself, 
  Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put 
  The manage of my state; as at that time 
  Through all the signories 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? 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Sir, most heedfully. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Being once perfected how to grant suits, 
  How to deny them, who t' advance, and who 
  To trash for over-topping; new created  
  The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em, 
  Or else new form'd 'em: having both the key 
  Of officer and office, set all hearts i' th' state 
  To what tune pleas'd his ear: that now he was 
  The ivy which had hid my princely trunk, 
  And suck'd my verdure out on't. - Thou attend'st not. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  O, good sir! I do. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  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 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 its 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, into truth, by telling of it,  
  Made such a sinner of his memory, 
  To credit his own lie, - he did believe 
  He was indeed the Duke; out o' the substitution, 
  And executing th' outward face of royalty, 
  With all prerogative. - Hence his ambition growing -  
  Dost thou hear? 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  To have no screen between this part he play'd 
  And him he play'd it for, he needs will be 
  Absolute Milan. Me, poor man - my library 
  Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties 
  He thinks me now incapable; confederates, -  
  So dry he was for sway, - wi' th' King of Naples 
  To give him annual tribute, do him homage; 
  Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend 
  The dukedom, yet unbow'd - alas, poor Milan! -  
  To most ignoble stooping. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  O the heavens! 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Mark his condition, and the event; then tell me 
  If this might be a brother.  
   
  MIRANDA. 
  I should sin 
  To think but nobly of my grandmother: 
  Good wombs have borne bad sons. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  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 levied, one midnight 
  Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open 
  The gates of Milan; and, i' th' dead of darkness, 
  The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence 
  Me and thy crying self. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Alack, for pity! 
  I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then, 
  Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint 
  That wrings mine eyes to't.  
   
  PROSPERO. 
  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. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Wherefore did they not 
  That hour destroy us? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  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 hurried us aboard a bark, 
  Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared 
  A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, 
  Nor tackle, sail, nor mast: the very rats 
  Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us, 
  To cry to th' sea, that roar'd to us: to sigh 
  To th' winds, whose pity, sighing back again, 
  Did us but loving wrong. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Alack! what trouble  
  Was I then to you! 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  O, a cherubin 
  Thou wast that did preserve me! Thou didst smile, 
  Infused with a fortitude from heaven, 
  When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, 
  Under my burden groan'd: which rais'd in me 
  An undergoing stomach, to bear up 
  Against what should ensue. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  How came we ashore? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  By Providence divine. 
  Some food we had and some fresh water that 
  A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, 
  Out of his charity, - who being then appointed 
  Master of this design, - did give us, with 
  Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, 
  Which since have steaded much: so, of his gentleness, 
  Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me, 
  From mine own library with volumes that 
  I prize above my dukedom. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Would I might  
  But ever see that man! 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Now I arise: -  
   
  [Resumes his mantle] 
   
  Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 
  Here in this island we arriv'd: and here 
  Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit 
  Than other princes can, that have more time 
  For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  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? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  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 am ready now. 
  Approach, my Ariel; Come! 
   
  [Enter ARIEL] 
   
  ARIEL. 
  All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come 
  To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, 
  To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride 
  On the curl'd clouds; to thy strong bidding task 
  Ariel and all his quality. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Hast thou, spirit, 
  Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  To every article. 
  I boarded the King's ship; now on the beak, 
  Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, 
  I flam'd amazement; sometime I'd divide, 
  And burn in many places; on the topmast, 
  The yards, and boresprit, would I flame distinctly,  
  Then meet and join: Jove's lightning, the precursors 
  O' th' dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary 
  And sight-outrunning were not: the fire and cracks 
  Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune 
  Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble, 
  Yea, his dread trident shake. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  My brave spirit! 
  Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil 
  Would not infect his reason? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Not a soul 
  But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd 
  Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners 
  Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, 
  Then all afire with me: the King's son, Ferdinand, 
  With hair up-staring - then like reeds, not hair -  
  Was the first man that leapt; cried 'Hell is empty, 
  And all the devils are here.' 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Why, that's my spirit! 
  But was not this nigh shore? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Close by, my master.  
   
  PROSPERO. 
  But are they, Ariel, safe? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  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. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Of the King's ship 
  The mariners, say how thou hast dispos'd, 
  And all the rest o' th' fleet? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  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; 
  Who, with a charm join'd to their suff'red labour, 
  I have left asleep: and for the rest o' th' 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 wrack'd, 
  And his great person perish. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Ariel, thy charge 
  Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work: 
  What is the time o' th' day? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Past the mid season. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now 
  Must by us both be spent most preciously. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  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. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  How now! moody? 
  What is't thou canst demand? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  My liberty. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Before the time be out! No more! 
   
  ARIEL. 
  I prithee, 
  Remember I have done thee worthy service; 
  Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd  
  Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise 
  To bate me a full year. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Dost thou forget 
  From what a torment I did free thee? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  No. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze 
  Of the salt deep, 
  To run upon the sharp wind of the north, 
  To do me business in the veins o' th' earth 
  When it is bak'd with frost. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  I do not, sir. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot 
  The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy 
  Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  No, sir. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Thou hast. Where was she born? 
  Speak; tell me. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Sir, in Argier. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  O! was she so? I must 
  Once in a month recount what thou hast been,  
  Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax, 
  For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible 
  To enter human hearing, from Argier, 
  Thou know'st,was banish'd: for one thing she did 
  They would not take her life. Is not this true? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Ay, sir. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  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, wast then her servant: 
  And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate 
  To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, 
  Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, 
  By help of her more potent ministers, 
  And in her most unmitigable rage, 
  Into a cloven pine; within which rift 
  Imprison'd, thou didst painfully remain 
  A dozen years; within which space she died, 
  And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans 
  As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island -  
  Save for the son that she did litter here,  
  A freckl'd whelp, hag-born - not honour'd with 
  A human shape. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Yes; Caliban her son. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  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. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  I thank thee, master. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  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. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Pardon, master: 
  I will be correspondent to command, 
  And do my spriting gently. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Do so; and after two days  
  I will discharge thee. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  That's my noble master! 
  What shall I do? Say what? What shall I do? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Go make thyself like a nymph o' th' sea: be subject 
  To no sight but thine and mine; invisible 
  To every eyeball else. Go, take this shape, 
  And hither come in 't: go, hence with diligence! 
   
  [Exit ARIEL] 
   
  Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; 
  Awake! 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  [Waking] The strangeness of your story put 
  Heaviness in me. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Shake it off. Come on; 
  We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never 
  Yields us kind answer. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  'Tis a villain, sir, 
  I do not love to look on. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  But as 'tis, 
  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. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  [Within] There's wood enough within. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee: 
  Come, thou tortoise! when? 
   
  [Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph.] 
   
  Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, 
  Hark in thine ear. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  My lord, it shall be done. 
   
  [Exit] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself 
  Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! 
   
  [Enter CALIBAN] 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd 
  With raven's feather from unwholesome fen 
  Drop on you both! A south-west blow on ye, 
  And blister you all o'er!  
   
  PROSPERO. 
  For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, 
  Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins 
  Shall forth at vast of night that they may work 
  All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd 
  As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging 
  Than bees that made them. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  I must eat my dinner. 
  This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, 
  Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st first, 
  Thou strok'st me and made much of me; wouldst give me 
  Water with berries in't; and teach me how 
  To name the bigger light, and how the less, 
  That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee, 
  And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle, 
  The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place, and fertile. 
  Curs'd 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 o' th' island. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  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. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Oh ho! Oh ho! Would it had been done! 
  Thou didst prevent me; I had peopl'd else 
  This isle with Calibans. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Abhorred slave, 
  Which any print of goodness wilt not take, 
  Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, 
  Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour 
  One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, 
  Know thine own meaning, but wouldst 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 hadst  
  Deserv'd more than a prison. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  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! 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Hag-seed, hence! 
  Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou 'rt 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. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  No, pray thee. -  
  [Aside] I must obey. His art is of such power, 
  It would control my dam's god, Setebos, 
  And make a vassal of him. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  So, slave: hence! 
   
  [Exit CALIBAN] 
   
  [Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing and singing; 
  FERDINAND following] 
   
  [ARIEL'S SONG.] 
   
  Come unto these yellow sands, 
  And then take hands: 
  Curtsied when you have, and kiss'd, -  
  The wild waves whist, -  
  Foot it featly here and there; 
  And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. 
  Hark, hark! 
     [Burden: Bow, wow, dispersedly.] 
  The watch dogs bark: 
     [Burden: Bow, wow, dispersedly.] 
  Hark, hark! I hear 
  The strain of strutting Chanticleer 
     [Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.] 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  Where should this music be? i' th' air or th' earth? 
  It sounds no more; - and sure it waits upon 
  Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank, 
  Weeping again the king my father's wrack, 
  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. 
   
  [ARIEL sings] 
  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: 
    [Burden: Ding-dong.] 
  Hark! now I hear them - ding-dong, bell. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  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. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,  
  And say what thou seest yond. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  What is't? a spirit? 
  Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, 
  It carries a brave form: - but 'tis a spirit. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath such senses 
  As we have, such; this gallant which thou see'st 
  Was in the wrack; and but he's something stain'd 
  With grief, - that beauty's canker, - thou mightst call him 
  A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows 
  And strays about to find 'em. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  I might call him 
  A thing divine; for nothing natural 
  I ever saw so noble. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [Aside] It goes on, I see, 
  As my soul prompts it. - Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee 
  Within two days for this. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  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? 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  No wonder, sir; 
  But certainly a maid. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  My language! Heavens! -  
  I am the best of them that speak this speech, 
  Were I but where 'tis spoken. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  How! the best? 
  What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee? 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  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, - never since at ebb, - beheld 
  The King, my father wrack'd. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Alack, for mercy! 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  Yes, faith, and all his lords, the Duke of Milan, 
  And his brave son being twain. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [Aside.] The Duke of Milan, 
  And his more braver daughter could control thee,  
  If now 'twere fit to do't. - At the first sight [Aside.] 
  They have changed eyes; - delicate Ariel, 
  I'll set thee free for this! - [To FERDINAND] A word, good sir: 
  I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  [Aside.] Why speaks my father so ungently? This 
  Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first 
  That e'er I sigh'd for; pity move my father 
  To be inclin'd my way! 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  [Aside.] O! if a virgin, 
  And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you 
  The Queen of Naples. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Soft, sir; one word more -  
  [Aside] They are both in either's powers: but this swift 
  business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning 
  Make the prize light. [To FERDINAND] 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. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  No, as I am a man. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  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. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  {To FERDINAND] Follow me. -  
  [To MIRANDA] Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. -  
  [To FERDINAND] 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 cradled. Follow. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  No; 
  I will resist such entertainment till 
  Mine enemy has more power. 
   
  [He draws, and is charmed from moving.] 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  O dear father! 
  Make not too rash a trial of him, for 
  He's gentle, and not fearful. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  What! I say,  
  My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; 
  Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience 
  Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward, 
  For I can here disarm thee with this stick 
  And make thy weapon drop. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Beseech you, father! 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Hence! Hang not on my garments. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Sir, have pity; 
  I'll be his surety. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Silence! One word more 
  Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! 
  An advocate for an impostor? hush! 
  Thou think'st there is 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. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  My affections 
  Are then most humble; I have no ambition 
  To see a goodlier man. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [To FERDINAND] Come on; obey: 
  Thy nerves are in their infancy again, 
  And have no vigour in them. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  So they are: 
  My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. 
  My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, 
  The wrack of all my friends, nor this man's threats, 
  To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, 
  Might I but through my prison once a day 
  Behold this maid: all corners else o' th' earth 
  Let liberty make use of; space enough 
  Have I in such a prison. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [Aside] It works. - [To FERDINAND] Come on. -  
  Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To FERDINAND] Follow me. -  
  [To ARIEL] Hark what thou else shalt do me. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Be of comfort; 
  My father's of a better nature, sir, 
  Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted, 
  Which now came from him. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Thou shalt be as free  
  As mountain winds; but then exactly do 
  All points of my command. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  To the syllable. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [To FERDINAND] Come, follow. - Speak not for him. 
   
  [Exeunt] 
   
   
  ACT 2 
   
  SCENE I. - Another part of the island 
   
  [Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, 
  and OTHERS] 
   
  GONZALO. 
  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 masters 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. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Prithee, peace. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  He receives comfort like cold porridge. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  The visitor will not give him o'er so. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by 
  and by it will strike. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Sir, -  
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  One: tell.  
   
  GONZALO. 
  When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, 
  Comes to the entertainer -  
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  A dollar. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken 
  truer than you purposed. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Therefore, my lord, -  
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! 
   
  ALONSO. 
  I prithee, spare. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Well, I have done: but yet -  
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  He will be talking. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first 
  begins to crow? 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  The old cock. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  The cockerel. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Done. The wager? 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  A laughter. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  A match! 
   
  ADRIAN. 
  Though this island seem to be desert, -   
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid. 
   
  ADRIAN. 
  Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible, -  
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Yet -  
   
  ADRIAN. 
  Yet -  
   
  ANTONIO. 
  He could not miss it. 
   
  ADRIAN. 
  It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate 
  temperance. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Temperance was a delicate wench. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered. 
   
  ADRIAN. 
  The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a fen. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Here is everything advantageous to life. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  True; save means to live. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Of that there's none, or little. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  The ground indeed is tawny. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  With an eye of green in't.  
   
  ANTONIO. 
  He misses not much. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  But the rarity of it is, - which is indeed almost 
  beyond credit, -  
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  As many vouch'd rarities are. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  That our garments, being, as they were, drenched 
  in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and 
  glosses, being rather new-dyed than stain'd with salt 
  water. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  If but one of his pockets could speak, would it 
  not say he lies? 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  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. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. 
   
  ADRIAN. 
  Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon 
  to their queen. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Not since widow Dido's time.  
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido! 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  What if he had said, widower Aeneas too? 
  Good Lord, how you take it! 
   
  ADRIAN. 
  Widow Dido said you? You make me study of that; she was of 
  Carthage, not of Tunis. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. 
   
  ADRIAN. 
  Carthage? 
   
  GONZALO. 
  I assure you, Carthage. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  His word is more than the miraculous harp. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  What impossible matter will he make easy next? 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  I think he will carry this island home in his 
  pocket, and give it his son for an apple. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring 
  forth more islands. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Ay. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Why, in good time. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  [To ALONSO.] 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. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  And the rarest that e'er came there. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  O! widow Dido; ay, widow Dido. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I 
  wore it? I mean, in a sort. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  That sort was well fish'd for. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? 
   
  ALONSO. 
  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? 
   
  FRANCISCO. 
  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 th' shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed, 
  As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt 
  He came alive to land. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  No, no; he's gone. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  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. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Prithee, peace. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise 
  By all of us; and the fair soul herself 
  Weigh'd between loathness and obedience at 
  Which end o' th' beam should bow. 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. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  So is the dearest of the loss. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  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 plaster. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Very well. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  And most chirurgeonly. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  It is foul weather in us all, good sir, 
  When you are cloudy. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Foul weather? 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Very foul. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Had I plantation of this isle, my lord, -  
   
  ANTONIO. 
  He'd sow 't with nettle-seed. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Or docks, or mallows. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  And were the king on't, what would I do? 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  'Scape being drunk for want of wine. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  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; 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, -  
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Yet he would be king on't. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  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 own kind, all foison, all abundance, 
  To feed my innocent people. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  No marrying 'mong his subjects? 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  None, man: all idle; whores and knaves. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  I would with such perfection govern, sir, 
  To excel the golden age.  
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Save his Majesty! 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Long live Gonzalo! 
   
  GONZALO. 
  And, - do you mark me, sir? 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  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. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  'Twas you we laugh'd at. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to 
  you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  What a blow was there given! 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  An it had not fallen flat-long. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  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] 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling.  
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Nay, good my lord, be not angry. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my 
  discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am 
  very heavy? 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Go sleep, and hear us. 
   
  [All sleep but ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO] 
   
  ALONSO. 
  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. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Please you, sir, 
  Do not omit the heavy offer of it: 
  It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, 
  It is a comforter. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  We two, my lord, 
  Will guard your person while you take your rest, 
  And watch your safety. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Thank you. Wondrous heavy! 
   
  [ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL.] 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  What a strange drowsiness possesses them! 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  It is the quality o' th' climate.  
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Why 
  Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not 
  Myself dispos'd to sleep. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  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? 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. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  What! art thou waking? 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Do you not hear me speak? 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  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, 
  And yet so fast asleep. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Noble Sebastian,  
  Thou let'st thy fortune sleep - die rather: wink'st 
  Whiles thou art waking. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Thou dost snore distinctly: 
  There's meaning in thy snores. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  I am more serious than my custom; you 
  Must be so too, if heed me: which to do 
  Trebles thee o'er. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Well, I am standing water. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  I'll teach you how to flow. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Do so: to ebb, 
  Hereditary sloth instructs me. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  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. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Prithee, say on: 
  The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim 
  A matter from thee, and a birth, indeed 
  Which throes thee much to yield. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  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. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  I have no hope 
  That he's undrown'd. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  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 with me 
  That Ferdinand is drown'd? 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  He's gone. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Then tell me, 
  Who's the next heir of Naples?  
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Claribel. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  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' th' Moon's too slow - till newborn chins 
  Be rough and razorable: she that from whom 
  We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, 
  And by that destiny, to perform an act 
  Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come 
  In yours and my discharge. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  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. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  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 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? 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Methinks I do. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  And how does your content 
  Tender your own good fortune? 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  I remember 
  You did supplant your brother Prospero. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  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. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  But, for your conscience, -  
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Ay, sir; where lies that? If 'twere a kibe, 
  '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 they molest! Here lies your brother, 
  No better than the earth he lies 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, 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. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  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. 
   
  ANTONIO. Draw together: 
  And when I rear my hand, do you the like, 
  To fall it on Gonzalo. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  O! but one word. 
   
  [They converse apart.]  
   
  [Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible.] 
   
  ARIEL. 
  My master through his art foresees the danger 
  That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth -  
  For else his project dies - to keep thee living. 
   
  [Sings in GONZALO'S ear] 
  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! 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Then let us both be sudden. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Now, good angels 
  Preserve the King! 
   
  [They wake] 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Why, how now! Ho, awake! Why are you drawn? 
  Wherefore this ghastly looking? 
   
  GONZALO. 
  What's the matter?  
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  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 struck mine ear most terribly. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  I heard nothing. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  O! 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear, 
  To make an earthquake: sure it was the roar 
  Of a whole herd of lions. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Heard you this, Gonzalo? 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, 
  And that a strange one too, which did awake me. 
  I shak'd you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes open'd, 
  I saw their weapons drawn: - there was a noise, 
  That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard, 
  Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Lead off this ground: and let's make further search 
  For my poor son. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Heavens keep him from these beasts! 
  For he is, sure, i' th' island.  
   
  ALONSO. 
  Lead away. 
   
  [Exit with the others.] 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Prospero my lord shall know what I have done: 
  So, King, go safely on to seek thy son. 
   
  [Exit] 
   
   
  SCENE II. Another part of the island 
   
  [Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder 
  heard] 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  All the infections that the sun sucks up 
  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 nor pinch, 
  Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' the 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: 
  Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me, 
  And after bite me; then like hedge-hogs which 
  Lie 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. -  
   
  [Enter TRINCULO] 
   
  Lo, now, lo! 
  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. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  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 bombard 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 
  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 of not of the newest Poor-John. A 
  strange fish! 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 
  thunderbolt. [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 shroud till the dregs 
  of the storm be past. 
   
  [Enter STEPHANO singing; a bottle in his hand] 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  I shall no more to sea, to sea, 
  Here shall I die 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 Marian, 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 savour of tar nor of pitch, 
  Yet a tailor might scratch her wher-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] 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Do not torment me: O! 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you 
  put tricks upon us with savages and men of Ind? 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. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  The spirit torments me: O! 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  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. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood 
  home faster. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  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. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, 
  I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  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 [gives CALIBAN a drink]: you cannot tell who's your 
  friend: open your chaps again. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  I should know that voice: it should be - but he is  
  drowned; and these are devils. O! defend me. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Four legs and two voices; a most delicate monster! 
  His forward voice now is to speak well of his 
  friend; his backward voice 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. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Stephano! 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy! mercy! 
  This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him: I 
  have no long spoon. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Stephano! - If thou beest Stephano, touch me, and 
  speak to me; for I am Trinculo: - be not afeared - thy good 
  friend Trinculo. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  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? Can he vent Trinculos? 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  I took him to be kill'd with a thunderstroke.  
  But art thou not drown'd, Stephano? I hope now thou are 
  not drown'd. Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the 
  dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And 
  art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 
  'scaped! 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Prithee, do not turn me about: my stomach is not constant. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  [Aside] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites. 
  That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor; 
  I will kneel to him. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  How didst thou 'scape? How cam'st thou hither? swear 
  by  this bottle how thou cam'st hither - I escaped upon 
  a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved overboard, by 
  this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree, with 
  mine  own hands, since I was cast ashore. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true 
  subject, for the liquor is not earthly. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Here: swear then how thou escapedst. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Swum ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim like  
  a duck, I'll be sworn. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  [Passing the bottle] Here, kiss the book [gives 
  TRINCULO a drink]. Though thou canst swim like a 
  duck, thou art made like a goose. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  O Stephano! hast any more of this? 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by 
  the seaside, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! 
  How does thine ague? 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Hast thou not dropped from heaven? 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the Man 
  in the Moon, when time was. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee, my 
  mistress showed me thee, and thy dog and thy bush. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Come, swear to that; kiss the book; I will 
  furnish it anon with new contents; swear. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  By this good light, this is a very shallow 
  monster. - I afeard of him! - A very weak monster. 
   - The Man i' the Moon! A most poor credulous 
  monster! - Well drawn, monster, in good sooth! 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  I'll show thee every fertile inch o' the island; 
  And I will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  By this light, a most perfidious and drunken 
  monster: when his god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  I'll kiss thy foot: I'll swear myself thy subject. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Come on, then; down, and swear. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed 
  monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in 
  my heart to beat him, -  
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Come, kiss. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  But that the poor monster's in drink: an 
  abominable monster! 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  I'll show 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.  
   
  TRINCULO. 
  A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of 
  a poor drunkard! 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  I prithee, 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 marmozet; I'll bring thee 
  To clust'ring filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee 
  Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  I prithee now, lead the way without any more 
  talking - Trinculo, the king and all our company else 
  being drowned, we will inherit here. - Here, bear my 
  bottle. - Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by 
  again. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Farewell, master; farewell, farewell! [Sings drunkenly] 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  A howling monster, a drunken monster. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  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, high-day! high-day, freedom! freedom, 
  high-day, freedom! 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  O brave monster! lead the way. 
   
  [Exeunt] 
   
   
  ACT 3 
   
  SCENE I. Before PROSPERO'S cell 
   
  [Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log.] 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  There be some sports are painful, and their labour 
  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: O! she is 
  Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed, 
  And he's compos'd 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 labours, 
  Most busy, least when I do it. 
   
  [Enter MIRANDA: and PROSPERO behind.] 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Alas! now pray you, 
  Work not so hard: I would the lightning had 
  Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd 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. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  O most dear mistress, 
  The sun will set, before I shall discharge 
  What I must strive to do. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  If you'll sit down, 
  I'll bear your logs the while. Pray give me that; 
  I'll carry it to the pile. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  No, precious creature: 
  I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, 
  Than you should such dishonour undergo, 
  While I sit lazy by. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  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. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [Aside] Poor worm! thou art infected: 
  This visitation shows it. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  You look wearily. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  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 prayers -  
  What is your name? 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Miranda - O my father! 
  I have broke your hest to say so. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  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 
  The 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. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  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. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  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 speak: -  
  The very instant that I saw you, did 
  My heart fly to your service; there resides, 
  To make me slave to it; and for your sake 
  Am I this patient log-man. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Do you love me? 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  O heaven! O earth! bear witness to this sound, 
  And crown what I profess with kind event, 
  If I speak true: if hollowly, invert 
  What best is boded me to mischief! I, 
  Beyond all limit of what else i' the world, 
  Do love, prize, honour you. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  I am a fool 
  To weep at what I am glad of. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [Aside] Fair encounter 
  Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace 
  On that which breeds between them! 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  Wherefore weep you? 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer 
  What I desire to give; and much less take 
  What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; 
  And all the more it seeks to hide itself, 
  The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! 
  And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! 
  I am your wife, if you will marry me; 
  If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow 
  You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, 
  Whether you will or no. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  My mistress, dearest; 
  And I thus humble ever. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  My husband, then? 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  Ay, with a heart as willing 
  As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  And mine, with my heart in't: and now farewell 
  Till half an hour hence. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  A thousand thousand! 
   
  [Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA severally.] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  So glad of this as they, I cannot be, 
  Who are surpris'd withal; but my rejoicing 
  At nothing can be more. I'll to my book; 
  For yet, ere supper time, must I perform  
  Much business appertaining. 
   
  [Exit] 
   
   
  SCENE II. Another part of the island 
   
  [Enter CALIBAN, with a bottle, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO.] 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Tell not me: - when the butt is out we will drink 
  water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and board 
  'em. - Servant-monster, drink to me. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Servant-monster! The folly of this island! They 
  say there's but five upon this isle; we are three of 
  them; if th' other two be brained like us, the state 
  totters. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy 
  eyes are almost set in thy head. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Where should they be set else? He were a brave 
  monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in 
  sack: for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere 
  I could recover the shore, five-and-thirty leagues, off 
  and on, by this light. Thou shalt be my lieutenant, 
  monster, or my standard. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard.  
   
  STEPHANO. 
  We'll not run, Monsieur monster. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Nor go neither: but you'll lie like dogs, and 
  yet say nothing neither. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest 
  a good moon-calf. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe. 
  I'll not serve him: he is not valiant. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case 
  to justle a constable. Why, thou deboshed fish thou, 
  was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack 
  as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but 
  half fish and half a monster? 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord? 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  'Lord' quoth he! - That a monster should be such 
  a natural! 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Lo, lo again! bite him to death, I prithee. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if 
  you prove a mutineer, the next tree! The poor monster's 
  my subject, and he shall not suffer indignity.  
   
  CALIBAN. 
  I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd to 
  hearken once again to the suit I made to thee? 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Marry will I; kneel, and repeat it: I will stand, 
  and so shall Trinculo. 
   
  [Enter ARIEL, invisible] 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, 
  sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the 
  island. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Thou liest. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou; 
  I would my valiant master would destroy thee; 
  I do not lie. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in his tale, 
  by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Why, I said nothing. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Mum, then, and no more. - [To CALIBAN] Proceed. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  I say, by sorcery he got this isle; 
  From me he got it: if thy greatness will , 
  Revenge it on him, - for I know, thou dar'st; 
  But this thing dare not, -  
   
  STEPHANO. 
  That's most certain. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Thou shalt be lord of it and I'll serve thee. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou 
  bring me to the party? 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Yea, yea, my lord: I'll yield him thee asleep, 
  Where thou may'st knock a nail into his head. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Thou liest: thou canst not. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch! -  
  I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows, 
  And take his bottle from him: when that's gone 
  He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him 
  Where the quick freshes are. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Trinculo, run into no further danger: interrupt the 
  monster one word further and, by this hand, I'll turn 
  my mercy out o' doors, and make a stock-fish of thee. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther off. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Didst thou not say he lied?  
   
  ARIEL. 
  Thou liest. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Do I so? Take thou that. [Strikes TRINCULO.] As you 
  like this, give me the lie another time. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  I did not give the lie: - out o' your wits and 
  hearing too? - A pox o' your bottle! this can sack and 
  drinking do. - A murrain on your monster, and the devil 
  take your fingers! 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Ha, ha, ha! 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Now, forward with your tale. - Prithee stand 
  further off. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Beat him enough: after a little time, I'll beat 
  him too. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Stand farther. - Come, proceed. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him 
  I' th' afternoon to sleep: there thou may'st brain him, 
  Having first seiz'd his books; or with a log 
  Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, 
  Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember 
  First to possess his books; for without them 
  He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not  
  One spirit to command: they all do hate him 
  As rootedly as I. Burn but his books; 
  He has brave utensils, - for so he calls them, -  
  Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal: 
  And that most deeply to consider is 
  The beauty of his daughter; he himself 
  Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman 
  But only Sycorax my dam and she; 
  But she as far surpasseth Sycorax 
  As great'st does least. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Is it so brave a lass? 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Ay, lord: she will become thy bed, I warrant, 
  And bring thee forth brave brood. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Monster, I will kill this man; his daughter and I 
  will be king and queen, - save our graces! - and Trinculo 
  and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot, 
  Trinculo? 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Excellent. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but 
  while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head.  
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Within this half hour will he be asleep; 
  Wilt thou destroy him then? 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Ay, on mine honour. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  This will I tell my master. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure. 
  Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch 
  You taught me but while-ere? 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any 
  reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. 
   
  [Sings] 
   
  Flout 'em and scout 'em; and scout 'em and flout 'em: 
  Thought is free. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  That's not the tune. 
   
  [ARIEL plays the tune on a Tabor and Pipe.] 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  What is this same? 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  This is the tune of our catch, played by the 
  picture of Nobody. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy  
  likeness: if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  O, forgive me my sins! 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. - Mercy 
  upon us! 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Art thou afeard? 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  No, monster, not I. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Be not afeard: the isle is full of noises, 
  Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. 
  Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments 
  Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, 
  That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, 
  Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, 
  The clouds methought would open and show riches 
  Ready to drop upon me; that, when I wak'd, 
  I cried to dream again. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I 
  shall have my music for nothing. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  When Prospero is destroyed. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  That shall be by and by: I remember the story. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  The sound is going away: let's follow it, and  
  after do our work. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Lead, monster: we'll follow. - I would I could see 
  this taborer! he lays it on. Wilt come? 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  I'll follow, Stephano. 
   
  [Exeunt] 
   
   
  SCENE III. Another part of the island 
   
  [Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, 
  and OTHERS.] 
   
  GONZALO. 
  By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir; 
  My old bones ache: here's a maze trod, indeed, 
  Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience, 
  I needs must rest me. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Old lord, I cannot blame thee, 
  Who am myself attach'd with weariness 
  To th' dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest. 
  Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it 
  No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd 
  Whom thus we stray to find; and the sea mocks 
  Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  [Aside to SEBASTIAN] I am right glad that he's 
  so out of hope. 
  Do not, for one repulse, forgo the purpose 
  That you resolv'd to effect. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  [Aside to ANTONIO] The next advantage  
  Will we take throughly. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  [Aside to SEBASTIAN] Let it be to-night; 
  For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they 
  Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance 
  As when they are fresh. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  [Aside to ANTONIO] I say, to-night: no more. 
   
  [Solemn and strange music: and PROSPERO above, 
  invisible. Enter several strange Shapes, 
  bringing in a banquet: they dance about it with 
  gentle actions of salutation; and inviting the 
  KING, &c., to eat, they depart.] 
   
  ALONSO. 
  What harmony is this? my good friends, hark! 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Marvellous sweet music! 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these? 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  A living drollery. Now I will believe 
  That there are unicorns; that in Arabia 
  There is one tree, the phoenix' throne; one phoenix 
  At this hour reigning there.  
   
  ANTONIO. 
  I'll believe both; 
  And what does else want credit, come to me, 
  And I'll be sworn 'tis true: travellers ne'er did lie, 
  Though fools at home condemn them. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  If in Naples 
  I should report this now, would they believe me? 
  If I should say, I saw such islanders, -  
  For, certes, these are people of the island, -  
  Who, though, they are of monstrous shape, yet, note, 
  Their manners are more gentle-kind than of 
  Our human generation you shall find 
  Many, nay, almost any. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [Aside] Honest lord, 
  Thou hast said well; for some of you there present 
  Are worse than devils. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  I cannot too much muse 
  Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing, -  
  Although they want the use of tongue, - a kind 
  Of excellent dumb discourse. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [Aside] Praise in departing.  
   
  FRANCISCO. 
  They vanish'd strangely. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  No matter, since 
  They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs. -  
  Will't please you taste of what is here? 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Not I. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys, 
  Who would believe that there were mountaineers 
  Dewlapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at them 
  Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men 
  Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find 
  Each putter-out of five for one will bring us 
  Good warrant of. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  I will stand to, and feed, 
  Although my last; no matter, since I feel 
  The best is past. - Brother, my lord the duke, 
  Stand to and do as we. 
   
  [Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; 
  claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint 
  device, the banquet vanishes] 
   
  ARIEL. 
  You are three men of sin, whom Destiny, 
  That hath to instrument this lower world 
  And what is in't, - the never-surfeited sea 
  Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island 
  Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men 
  Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad: 
   
  [Seeing ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, &c., draw their swords] 
   
  And even with such-like valour men hang and drown 
  Their proper selves. You fools! I and my fellows 
  Are ministers of fate: the elements 
  Of whom your swords are temper'd may as well 
  Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs 
  Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish 
  One dowle that's in my plume; my fellow-ministers 
  Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt, 
  Your swords are now too massy for your strengths, 
  And will not be uplifted. But, remember -  
  For that's my business to you, - that you three  
  From Milan did supplant good Prospero; 
  Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it, 
  Him, and his innocent child: for which foul deed 
  The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have 
  Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures, 
  Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, 
  They have bereft; and do pronounce, by me 
  Lingering perdition, - worse than any death 
  Can be at once, - shall step by step attend 
  You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from -  
  Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls 
  Upon your heads, - is nothing but heart-sorrow, 
  And a clear life ensuing. 
   
  [He vanishes in thunder: then, to soft music, enter 
  the Shapes again, and dance, with mocks and mows, 
  and carry out the table] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [Aside] Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou 
  Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring;  
  Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated 
  In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life 
  And observation strange, my meaner ministers 
  Their several kinds have done. My high charms work, 
  And these mine enemies are all knit up 
  In their distractions; they now are in my power; 
  And in these fits I leave them, while I visit 
  Young Ferdinand, - whom they suppose is drown'd, -  
  And his and mine lov'd darling. 
   
  [Exit above] 
   
  GONZALO. 
  I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand you 
  In this strange stare? 
   
  ALONSO. 
  O, it is monstrous! monstrous! 
  Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it; 
  The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, 
  That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd 
  The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass. 
  Therefore my son i' th' ooze is bedded; and 
  I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, 
  And with him there lie mudded. 
   
  [Exit] 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  But one fiend at a time,  
  I'll fight their legions o'er. 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  I'll be thy second. 
   
  [Exeunt SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO] 
   
  GONZALO. 
  All three of them are desperate: their great guilt, 
  Like poison given to work a great time after, 
  Now 'gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you 
  That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly 
  And hinder them from what this ecstasy 
  May now provoke them to. 
   
  ADRIAN. 
  Follow, I pray you. 
   
  [Exeunt] 
   
   
  ACT 4 
   
  SCENE I. Before PROSPERO'S cell 
   
  [Enter PROSPERO! FERDINAND, and MIRANDA] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  If I have too austerely punish'd you, 
  Your compensation makes amends: for 
  Have given you here a third of mine own life, 
  Or that for which I live; who once again 
  I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations 
  Were but my trials of thy love, and thou 
  Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore Heaven, 
  I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand! 
  Do not smile at me that I boast her off, 
  For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise, 
  And make it halt behind her. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  I do believe it 
  Against an oracle. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition 
  Worthily purchas'd, take my daughter: but 
  If thou dost break her virgin knot before 
  All sanctimonious ceremonies may  
  With full and holy rite be minister'd, 
  No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall 
  To make this contract grow; but barren hate, 
  Sour-ey'd disdain, and discord, shall bestrew 
  The union of your bed with weeds so loathly 
  That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed, 
  As Hymen's lamps shall light you. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  As I hope 
  For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, 
  With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, 
  The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion 
  Our worser genius can, shall never melt 
  Mine honour into lust, to take away 
  The edge of that day's celebration, 
  When I shall think, or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd, 
  Or Night kept chain'd below. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Fairly spoke: 
  Sit, then, and talk with her, she is thine own. 
  What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel! 
   
  [Enter ARIEL] 
   
  ARIEL. 
  What would my potent master? here I am. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service 
  Did worthily perform; and I must use you 
  In such another trick. Go bring the rabble, 
  O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place; 
  Incite them to quick motion; for I must 
  Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple 
  Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise, 
  And they expect it from me. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Presently? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Ay, with a twink. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Before you can say 'Come' and 'Go,' 
  And breathe twice; and cry 'so, so,' 
  Each one, tripping on his toe, 
  Will be here with mop and mow. 
  Do you love me, master? no? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach 
  Till thou dost hear me call.  
   
  ARIEL. 
  Well, I conceive. 
   
  [Exit] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Look, thou be true; do not give dalliance 
  Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw 
  To th' fire i' the blood: be more abstemious, 
  Or else good night your vow! 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  I warrant you, sir; 
  The white-cold virgin snow upon my heart 
  Abates the ardour of my liver. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Well. -  
  Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary, 
  Rather than want a spirit: appear, and pertly. 
  No tongue! all eyes! be silent. 
   
  [Soft music] 
   
  [A Masque. Enter IRIS] 
   
  IRIS. 
  Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas 
  Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and peas; 
  Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, 
  And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep; 
  Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, 
  Which spongy April at thy hest betrims, 
  To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves, 
  Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, 
  Being lass-lorn: thy pole-clipt vineyard; 
  And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard, 
  Where thou thyself dost air: the Queen o' the sky, 
  Whose watery arch and messenger am I, 
  Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace, 
  Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, 
  To come and sport; her peacocks fly amain: 
  Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. 
   
  [Enter CERES] 
   
  CERES. 
  Hail, many-colour'd messenger, that ne'er 
  Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; 
  Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers 
  Diffusest honey drops, refreshing showers: 
  And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown  
  My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down, 
  Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy queen 
  Summon'd me hither to this short-grass'd green? 
   
  IRIS. 
  A contract of true love to celebrate, 
  And some donation freely to estate 
  On the blest lovers. 
   
  CERES. 
  Tell me, heavenly bow, 
  If Venus or her son, as thou dost know, 
  Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot 
  The means that dusky Dis my daughter got, 
  Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company 
  I have forsworn. 
   
  IRIS. 
  Of her society 
  Be not afraid. I met her deity 
  Cutting the clouds towards Paphos and her son 
  Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done 
  Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, 
  Whose vows are, that no bed-rite shall be paid 
  Till Hymen's torch be lighted; but in vain. 
  Mars's hot minion is return'd again;  
  Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, 
  Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows, 
  And be a boy right out. 
   
  CERES. 
  Highest Queen of State, 
  Great Juno comes; I know her by her gait. 
   
  [Enter JUNO.] 
   
  JUNO. 
  How does my bounteous sister? Go with me 
  To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be, 
  And honour'd in their issue. 
   
  SONG 
   
  JUNO. 
  Honour, riches, marriage-blessing, 
  Long continuance, and increasing, 
  Hourly joys be still upon you! 
  Juno sings her blessings on you. 
   
  CERES. 
  Earth's increase, foison plenty, 
  Barns and gamers never empty; 
  Vines with clust'ring bunches growing; 
  Plants with goodly burden bowing; 
  Spring come to you at the farthest, 
  In the very end of harvest! 
  Scarcity and want shall shun you; 
  Ceres' blessing so is on you.  
   
  FERDINAND. 
  This is a most majestic vision, and 
  Harmonious charmingly; may I be bold 
  To think these spirits? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Spirits, which by mine art 
  I have from their confines call'd to enact 
  My present fancies. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  Let me live here ever: 
  So rare a wonder'd father and a wise, 
  Makes this place Paradise. 
   
  [JUNO and CERES whisper, and send IRIS on employment.] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Sweet now, silence! 
  Juno and Ceres whisper seriously, 
  There's something else to do: hush, and be mute, 
  Or else our spell is marr'd. 
   
  IRIS. 
  You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the windring brooks, 
  With your sedg'd crowns and ever-harmless looks, 
  Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land 
  Answer your summons: Juno does command. 
  Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate 
  A contract of true love: be not too late.  
   
  [Enter certain NYMPHS] 
   
  You sun-burn'd sicklemen, of August weary, 
  Come hither from the furrow, and be merry: 
  Make holiday: your rye-straw hats put on, 
  And these fresh nymphs encounter every one 
  In country footing. 
   
  [Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join] 
  with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards the 
  end whereof PROSPERO starts suddenly, and speaks; 
  after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused 
  noise, they heavily vanish.] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [Aside] I had forgot that foul conspiracy 
  Of the beast Caliban and his confederates 
  Against my life: the minute of their plot 
  Is almost come. [To the Spirits.] Well done! avoid; no 
  more!  
   
  FERDINAND. 
  This is strange: your father's in some passion 
  That works him strongly. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Never till this day 
  Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort, 
  As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir: 
  Our revels now are ended. These our actors, 
  As I foretold you, were all spirits and 
  Are melted into air, into thin air: 
  And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
  The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
  The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
  Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve 
  And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
  Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff 
  As dreams are made on, and our little life 
  Is rounded with a sleep. - Sir, I am vex'd: 
  Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled. 
  Be not disturb'd with my infirmity. 
  If you be pleas'd, retire into my cell  
  And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk, 
  To still my beating mind. 
   
  FERDINAND, MIRANDA. 
  We wish your peace. 
   
  [Exeunt.] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Come, with a thought. - [To them.] I thank thee: 
  Ariel, come! 
   
  [Enter ARIEL.] 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Spirit, 
  We must prepare to meet with Caliban. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Ay, my commander; when I presented Ceres, 
  I thought to have told thee of it: but I fear'd 
  Lest I might anger thee. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; 
  So full of valour that they smote the air 
  For breathing in their faces; beat the ground 
  For kissing of their feet; yet always bending 
  Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor; 
  At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears,  
  Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses 
  As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears, 
  That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through 
  Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns, 
  Which enter'd their frail shins: at last I left them 
  I' the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell, 
  There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake 
  O'erstunk their feet. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  This was well done, my bird. 
  Thy shape invisible retain thou still: 
  The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither 
  For stale to catch these thieves. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  I go, I go. 
   
  [Exit] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  A devil, a born devil, on whose nature 
  Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains, 
  Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost; 
  And as with age his body uglier grows, 
  So his mind cankers. I will plague them all, 
  Even to roaring. 
   
  [Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c.] 
   
  Come, hang them on this line. 
   
  [PROSPERO and ARIEL remain invisible. Enter  
  CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet] 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not 
  Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless 
  fairy, has done little better than played the 
  Jack with us. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at which my 
  nose is in great indignation. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  So is mine. - Do you hear, monster? If I should 
  take a displeasure against you, look you, -  
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Thou wert but a lost monster. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Good my lord, give me thy favour still: 
  Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to 
  Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly; 
  All's hush'd as midnight yet.  
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool! -  
   
  STEPHANO. 
  There is not only disgrace and dishonour in 
  that, monster, but an infinite loss. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  That's more to me than my wetting: yet this is 
  your harmless fairy, monster. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er 
  ears for my labour. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here, 
  This is the mouth o' the cell: no noise, and enter. 
  Do that good mischief which may make this island 
  Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban, 
  For aye thy foot-licker. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Give me thy hand: I do begin to have bloody 
  thoughts. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! 
  Look what a wardrobe here is for thee! 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a 
  frippery. - O King Stephano! 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll  
  have that gown. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Thy Grace shall have it. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  The dropsy drown this fool! What do you mean 
  To dote thus on such luggage? Let's along, 
  And do the murder first. If he awake, 
  From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches; 
  Make us strange stuff. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Be you quiet, monster. - Mistress line, is not 
  this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: now, 
  jerkin, you are like to lose your hair, and prove a bald 
  jerkin. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Do, do: we steal by line and level, an't like 
  your Grace. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  I thank thee for that jest: here's a garment 
  for't: wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of 
  this country: 'Steal by line and level,' is an excellent 
  pass of pate: there's another garmet for't. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, 
  and away with the rest. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  I will have none on't. We shall lose our time,  
  And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes 
  With foreheads villainous low. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this 
  away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you out 
  of my kingdom. Go to; carry this. 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  And this. 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Ay, and this. 
   
  [A noise of hunters beard. Enter divers Spirits, in 
  shape of hounds, and hunt them about; PROSPERO and 
  ARIEL setting them on] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Hey, Mountain, hey! 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Silver! there it goes, Silver! 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Fury, Fury! There, Tyrant, there! hark, hark! 
   
  [CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO are driven out.] 
   
  Go, charge my goblins that they grind their joints 
  With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews 
  With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them 
  Than pard, or cat o' mountain.  
   
  ARIEL. 
  Hark, they roar. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour 
  Lies at my mercy all mine enemies; 
  Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou 
  Shalt have the air at freedom;for a little 
  Follow, and do me service. 
   
  [Exeunt] 
   
   
  ACT 5 
   
  SCENE I. Before the cell of PROSPERO. 
   
  [Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes; and ARIEL.] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Now does my project gather to a head: 
  My charms crack not; my spirits obey, and time 
  Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord, 
  You said our work should cease. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  I did say so, 
  When first I rais'd the tempest. Say, my spirit, 
  How fares the King and 's followers? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Confin'd together 
  In the same fashion as you gave in charge; 
  Just as you left them: all prisoners, sir, 
  In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell; 
  They cannot budge till your release. The king, 
  His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted, 
  And the remainder mourning over them, 
  Brim full of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly 
  Him you term'd, sir, 'the good old lord, Gonzalo':  
  His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops 
  From eaves of reeds; your charm so strongly works them, 
  That if you now beheld them, your affections 
  Would become tender. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Dost thou think so, spirit? 
   
  ARIEL. 
  Mine would, sir, were I human. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  And mine shall. 
  Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
  Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, 
  One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, 
  Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art? 
  Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, 
  Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury 
  Do I take part: the rarer action is 
  In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent, 
  The sole drift of my purpose doth extend 
  Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel. 
  My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, 
  And they shall be themselves. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  I'll fetch them, sir. 
   
  [Exit.] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and 
  groves; 
  And ye that on the sands with printless foot 
  Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him 
  When he comes back; you demi-puppets that 
  By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, 
  Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime 
  Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice 
  To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, -  
  Weak masters though ye be, - I have bedimm'd 
  The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, 
  And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault 
  Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder 
  Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak 
  With his own bolt: the strong-bas'd promontory 
  Have I made shake; and by the spurs pluck'd up 
  The pine and cedar: graves at my command 
  Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let them forth 
  By my so potent art. But this rough magic 
  I here abjure; and, when I have requir'd  
  Some heavenly music, - which even now I do, -  
  To work mine end upon their senses that 
  This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, 
  Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, 
  And deeper than did ever plummet sound 
  I'll drown my book. 
   
  [Solem music] 
   
  [Re-enter ARIEL: after him, ALONSO, with 
  frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN 
  and ANTONIO in like manner, attended by ADRIAN 
  and FRANCISCO: they all enter the circle which 
  PROSPERO had made, and there stand charmed: which 
  PROSPERO observing, speaks.] 
   
  A solemn air, and the best comforter 
  To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains, 
  Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There stand, 
  For you are spell-stopp'd. 
  Holy Gonzalo, honourable man, 
  Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine,  
  Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace; 
  And as the morning steals upon the night, 
  Melting the darkness, so their rising senses 
  Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle 
  Their clearer reason. - O good Gonzalo! 
  My true preserver, and a loyal sir 
  To him thou follow'st, I will pay thy graces 
  Home, both in word and deed. - Most cruelly 
  Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter: 
  Thy brother was a furtherer in the act; -  
  Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian. - Flesh and blood, 
  You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, 
  Expell'd remorse and nature, who, with Sebastian, -  
  Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong, -  
  Would here have kill'd your king; I do forgive thee, 
  Unnatural though thou art! Their understanding 
  Begins to swell, and the approaching tide 
  Will shortly fill the reasonable shores 
  That now lie foul and muddy. Not one of them 
  That yet looks on me, or would know me. - Ariel,  
  Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell: -  
   
  [Exit ARIEL] 
   
  I will discase me, and myself present, 
  As I was sometime Milan. - Quickly, spirit; 
  Thou shalt ere long be free. 
   
  [ARIEL re-enters, singing, and helps to attire PROSPERO.] 
   
  ARIEL 
  Where the bee sucks, there suck I: 
  In a cowslip's bell I lie; 
  There I couch when owls do cry. 
  On the bat's back I do fly 
  After summer merrily: 
  Merrily, merrily shall I live now 
  Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee; 
  But yet thou shalt have freedom; - so, so, so. -  
  To the king's ship, invisible as thou art: 
  There shalt thou find the mariners asleep 
  Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain  
  Being awake, enforce them to this place, 
  And presently, I prithee. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  I drink the air before me, and return 
  Or ere your pulse twice beat. 
   
  [Exit] 
   
  GONZALO. 
  All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement 
  Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us 
  Out of this fearful country! 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Behold, sir king, 
  The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero. 
  For more assurance that a living prince 
  Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body; 
  And to thee and thy company I bid 
  A hearty welcome. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Whe'er thou be'st he or no, 
  Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me, 
  As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse 
  Beats, as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee, 
  Th' affliction of my mind amends, with which, 
  I fear, a madness held me: this must crave, -  
  An if this be at all - a most strange story.  
  Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreat 
  Thou pardon me my wrongs. - But how should Prospero 
  Be living and be here? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  First, noble friend, 
  Let me embrace thine age; whose honour cannot 
  Be measur'd or confin'd. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Whether this be 
  Or be not, I'll not swear. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  You do yet taste 
  Some subtleties o' the isle, that will not let you 
  Believe things certain. - Welcome, my friends all: -  
  [Aside to SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO] But you, my brace of 
  lords, were I so minded, 
  I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you, 
  And justify you traitors: at this time 
  I will tell no tales. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  [Aside] The devil speaks in him. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  No. 
  For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother 
  Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive  
  Thy rankest fault; all of them; and require 
  My dukedom of thee, which, perforce, I know 
  Thou must restore. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  If thou beest Prospero, 
  Give us particulars of thy preservation; 
  How thou hast met us here, whom three hours since 
  Were wrack'd upon this shore; where I have lost, -  
  How sharp the point of this remembrance is! -  
  My dear son Ferdinand. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  I am woe for't, sir. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Irreparable is the loss, and patience 
  Says it is past her cure. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  I rather think 
  You have not sought her help; of whose soft grace, 
  For the like loss I have her sovereign aid, 
  And rest myself content. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  You the like loss! 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  As great to me, as late; and, supportable 
  To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker 
  Than you may call to comfort you, for I  
  Have lost my daughter. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  A daughter? 
  O heavens! that they were living both in Naples, 
  The king and queen there! That they were, I wish 
  Myself were mudded in that oozy bed 
  Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords 
  At this encounter do so much admire 
  That they devour their reason, and scarce think 
  Their eyes do offices of truth, their words 
  Are natural breath; but, howsoe'er you have 
  Been justled from your senses, know for certain 
  That I am Prospero, and that very duke 
  Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely 
  Upon this shore, where you were wrack'd, was landed 
  To be the lord on't. No more yet of this; 
  For 'tis a chronicle of day by day, 
  Not a relation for a breakfast nor 
  Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir: 
  This cell's my court: here have I few attendants  
  And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in. 
  My dukedom since you have given me again, 
  I will requite you with as good a thing; 
  At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye 
  As much as me my dukedom. 
   
  [The entrance of the Cell opens, and discovers 
  FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chess.] 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Sweet lord, you play me false. 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  No, my dearest love, 
  I would not for the world. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle, 
  And I would call it fair play. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  If this prove 
  A vision of the island, one dear son 
  Shall I twice lose. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  A most high miracle! 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  Though the seas threaten, they are merciful: 
  I have curs'd them without cause. 
   
  [Kneels to ALONSO.]  
   
  ALONSO. 
  Now all the blessings 
  Of a glad father compass thee about! 
  Arise, and say how thou cam'st here. 
   
  MIRANDA. 
  O, wonder! 
  How many goodly creatures are there here! 
  How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world 
  That has such people in't! 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  'Tis new to thee. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  What is this maid, with whom thou wast at play? 
  Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours: 
  Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us, 
  And brought us thus together? 
   
  FERDINAND. 
  Sir, she is mortal; 
  But by immortal Providence she's mine. 
  I chose her when I could not ask my father 
  For his advice, nor thought I had one. She 
  Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, 
  Of whom so often I have heard renown, 
  But never saw before; of whom I have 
  Receiv'd a second life: and second father  
  This lady makes him to me. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  I am hers: 
  But, O! how oddly will it sound that I 
  Must ask my child forgiveness! 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  There, sir, stop: 
  Let us not burden our remembrances with 
  A heaviness that's gone. 
   
  GONZALO. 
  I have inly wept, 
  Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you gods, 
  And on this couple drop a blessed crown; 
  For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way 
  Which brought us hither. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  I say, Amen, Gonzalo! 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue 
  Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice 
  Beyond a common joy, and set it down 
  With gold on lasting pillars. In one voyage 
  Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis, 
  And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife 
  Where he himself was lost; Prospero his dukedom  
  In a poor isle; and all of us ourselves, 
  When no man was his own. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  [To FERDINAND and MIRANDA] Give me your hands: 
  Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart 
  That doth not wish you joy! 
   
  GONZALO. 
  Be it so. Amen! 
   
  [Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boatswain 
  amazedly following.] 
   
  O look, sir! look, sir! Here are more of us. 
  I prophesied, if a gallows were on land, 
  This fellow could not drown. - Now, blasphemy, 
  That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore? 
  Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? 
   
  BOATSWAIN. 
  The best news is that we have safely found 
  Our king and company: the next, our ship, -  
  Which but three glasses since we gave out split, -  
  Is tight and yare, and bravely rigg'd as when  
  We first put out to sea. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  [Aside to PROSPERO] Sir, all this service 
  Have I done since I went. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [Aside to ARIEL] My tricksy spirit! 
   
  ALONSO. 
  These are not natural events; they strengthen 
  From strange to stranger - Say, how came you hither? 
   
  BOATSWAIN. 
  If I did think, sir, I were well awake, 
  I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep, 
  And, - how, we know not, - all clapp'd under hatches, 
  Where, but even now, with strange and several noises 
  Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, 
  And mo diversity of sounds, all horrible, 
  We were awak'd; straightway, at liberty: 
  Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld 
  Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master 
  Cap'ring to eye her: on a trice, so please you, 
  Even in a dream, were we divided from them, 
  And were brought moping hither. 
   
  ARIEL. 
  [Aside to PROSPERO] Was't well done? 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  [Aside to ARIEL] Bravely, my diligence. Thou  
  shalt be free. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod; 
  And there is in this business more than nature 
  Was ever conduct of: some oracle 
  Must rectify our knowledge. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Sir, my liege, 
  Do not infest your mind with beating on 
  The strangeness of this business: at pick'd leisure, 
  Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you, -  
  Which to you shall seem probable - of every 
  These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheerful 
  And think of each thing well. - [Aside to ARIEL] Come 
  hither, spirit; 
  Set Caliban and his companions free; 
  Untie the spell. [Exit ARIEL] How fares my gracious sir? 
  There are yet missing of your company 
  Some few odd lads that you remember not. 
   
  [Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and 
  TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel.] 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man 
  take care for himself, for all is but fortune. - Coragio! 
  bully-monster, Coragio! 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  If these be true spies which I wear in my head, 
  here's a goodly sight. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed. 
  How fine my master is! I am afraid 
  He will chastise me. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Ha, ha! 
  What things are these, my lord Antonio? 
  Will money buy them? 
   
  ANTONIO. 
  Very like; one of them 
  Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, 
  Then say if they be true. - This mis-shapen knave -  
  His mother was a witch; and one so strong 
  That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, 
  And deal in her command without her power. 
  These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil, -   
  For he's a bastard one, - had plotted with them 
  To take my life: two of these fellows you 
  Must know and own; this thing of darkness I 
  Acknowledge mine. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  I shall be pinch'd to death. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  He is drunk now: where had he wine? 
   
  ALONSO. 
  And Trinculo is reeling-ripe: where should they 
  Find this grand liquor that hath gilded them? 
  How cam'st thou in this pickle? 
   
  TRINCULO. 
  I have been in such a pickle since I saw you 
  last that, I fear me, will never out of my bones. I 
  shall not fear fly-blowing. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Why, how now, Stephano! 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  O! touch me not: I am not Stephano, but a cramp. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  You'd be king o' the isle, sirrah? 
   
  STEPHANO. 
  I should have been a sore one, then. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  This is as strange a thing as e'er I look'd on.  
   
  [Pointing to CALIBAN] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  He is as disproportioned in his manners 
  As in his shape. - Go, sirrah, to my cell; 
  Take with you your companions: as you look 
  To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. 
   
  CALIBAN. 
  Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter, 
  And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass 
  Was I, to take this drunkard for a god, 
  And worship this dull fool! 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Go to; away! 
   
  ALONSO. 
  Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. 
   
  SEBASTIAN. 
  Or stole it, rather. 
   
  [Exeunt CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO.] 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  Sir, I invite your Highness and your train 
  To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest 
  For this one night; which - part of it - I'll waste 
  With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it 
  Go quick away; the story of my life 
  And the particular accidents gone by 
  Since I came to this isle: and in the morn 
  I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,  
  Where I have hope to see the nuptial 
  Of these our dear-belov'd solemnized; 
  And thence retire me to my Milan, where 
  Every third thought shall be my grave. 
   
  ALONSO. 
  I long To hear the story of your life, which must 
  Take the ear strangely. 
   
  PROSPERO. 
  I'll deliver all; 
  And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, 
  And sail so expeditious that shall catch 
  Your royal fleet far off. - [Aside to ARIEL] My Ariel, 
  chick, 
  That is thy charge: then to the elements 
  Be free, and fare thou well! - Please you, draw near. 
   
  [Exeunt] 
   
   
  EPILOGUE 
   
  [Spoken by PROSPERO] 
   
  Now my charms are all o'erthrown, 
  And what strength I have's mine own; 
  Which is most faint; now 'tis true, 
  I must be here confin'd by you, 
  Or sent to Naples. Let me not, 
  Since I have my dukedom got, 
  And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell 
  In this bare island by your spell: 
  But release me from my bands 
  With the help of your good hands. 
  Gentle breath of yours my sails 
  Must fill, or else my project fails, 
  Which was to please. Now I want 
  Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; 
  And my ending is despair, 
  Unless I be reliev'd by prayer, 
  Which pierces so that it assaults 
  Mercy itself, and frees all faults. 
  As you from crimes would pardon'd be,  
  Let your indulgence set me free. 
   
   
   
   
   Publication Date: May 29th 2008 https://www.bookrix.com/-bx.shakespeare