SEB. Foul weather! ANT. Execute all things; for no kind of traffic SEB. Yet he would be king on't. ANT. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. GON. All things in common nature should Save his majesty ! ANT. Long live Gonzalo ! GON. And, do you mark me, sir?— ALON. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. GON. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing. ANT. 'Twas you we laugh'd at. GON. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. ANT. What a blow was there given ! SEB. An it had not fallen flat-long. GON. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. Enter ARIEL, invisible, solemn Music playing. SEB. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.(2) ANT. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. GON. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy? ANT. Go sleep, and hear us. [All sleep but ALON., SEB., and ANT. ALON. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine Will guard your person while you take your rest, Thank you.-Wondrous heavy. [ALON. sleeps. Exit ARIEL. SEB. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! And Mr. Collier's annotator changes the "at" of the previous line to as, as Which end," &c. b Foizon,-] Abundance, plenty. Doth it not, then, our eyelids sink? I find not Myself dispos'd to sleep. ANT. Nor I; my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; 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 shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee; and My strong imagination sees a crown SEB. ANT. Noble Sebastian, Be rough and razorable; she, 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, yours and my discharge. In SEB. What stuff is this?-How say you? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis: So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is some space. ANT. A space whose every cubit Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake !-Say, this were death That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no [Naples worse Than now they are. There be that can rule As this Gonzalo; I myself could make SEB. I remember, True: You did supplant your brother Prospero. ANT. (*) Old text, doubt c1 - she, from whom-] That is, coming from whom. The old text has, "she that from whom." Rowe made the correction. d And, by that destiny,-] We should possibly read, "though some cast again, And that by destiny,-to perform," &c. Why, how now? ho, awake! Why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking? Suggestion] Has before been explained to mean, temptation. b To keep them living.] Mr. Dyce reads, "to keep thee living," which is preferable to any alteration of the passage yet suggested; but we are not convinced that change is required. e Why, how now? ho, awake! &c.] In the old copy, and in every subsequent edition, this speech is given to the king and the next to Gonzalo, but erroneously, as we think is evident from the language, the business of the scene, and from what Gonzalo SCENE II.-Another Part of the Island. Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard. CAL. 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, 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.(3) Legged like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer,-this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a 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 bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past. Enter STEPHANO, singing; a bottle in his hand. a Gaberdine;] A loose over-garment, worn by the lower classes. See note (6), p. 438, Vol. I. - This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: well, here's comfort. my [Drinks. The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I, The gunner, and his mate, Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, For she had a tongue with a tang, She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch, Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang! This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort. [Drinks. CAL. Do not torment me:-O! STE. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon 's with salvages and men of Inde, ha? I have not 'scaped drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground: and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at nostrils. CAL. The spirit torments me :-0! STE. This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will |