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And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative: hence his ambition grow-
Dost thou hear?

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Pros. 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 royal-


He thinks me now incapable; confederates-
So dry he was for sway-wi' the 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.


I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother:
Good wombs have borne bad sons.
Now the condition. 120
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' the dead of dark-



Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me
From mine own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.

Would I might

But ever see that man!


O the heavens !

Pros. Now I arise: [Resumes his mantle.

Pros. Mark his condition and the event; then Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 170
tell me
Here in this island we arrived; and here

If this might be a brother.

Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princesses can that have more time
For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.


Mir. Heavens thank you for't! And now,
pray you, sir,
For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason
For raising this sea-storm?


The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me and thy crying self.


Alack, for pity!
I, not remembering how I cried out then,
Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint

That wrings mine eyes to't.

Hear a little further
And then I'll bring thee to the present business
Which now's upon's; without the which this story
Were most impertinent.

Wherefore did they not

That hour destroy us?

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 the sea that roar'd to us, to sigh
To the winds whose pity, sighing back again, 150
Did us but loving wrong.


Alack, what trouble

Was I then to you!


O, a cherubin

Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst


Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,

Under my burthen groan'd; which raised in me
An undergoing stomach, to bear up
Against what should ensue.

How came we ashore?
Pros. By Providence divine.
Some food we had and some fresh water that 160
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 gen-

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 180
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 inclined 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.

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Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring, then like reeds, not hair,-
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, 'Hell is

And all the devils are here.'

Why, that's my spirit!

But was not this nigh shore?
Close by, my master.
Pros. But are they, Ariel, safe?
Not a hair perish'd;
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,
In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle. 220
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.

Of the king's ship
The mariners say how thou hast disposed
And all the rest o' the fleet.


Safely in harbour


Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid:
The mariners all under hatches stow'd;
Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
I have left asleep: and for the rest o' the fleet
Which I dispersed, they all have met again
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd
And his great person perish.

Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd: but there's more work.
What is the time o' the day?


Past the mid season. Pros. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now


Must by us both be spent most preciously.
Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give
me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,
Which is not yet perform'd me.


How now? moody?

What is 't thou canst demand?

My liberty.
Pros. Before the time be out? no more!
I prithee,
Remember I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings,

Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst


To bate me a full year.

Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?



Thou hast. Where was she b-orn?
speak; tell me.
Ari. Sir, in Argier.
O, was she so? I must
Once in a month recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,

Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did
They would not take her life. Is not this true?
Ari. Ay, sir.

I do not, sir.
Pros. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou
The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy
Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?
Ari. No, sir.

Pros. This blue-eyed 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




As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island

Save for the son that she did litter here,

A freckled whelp hag-born-not honour'd with
A human shape.


Yes, Caliban her son.

Pros. 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 arrived and heard thee, that made gape
The pine and let thee out.



I thank thee, master.
Pr. 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.
Pardon, master;


I will be correspondent to command
And do my spiriting gently.


Do so, and after two days

I will discharge thee.
That's my noble master!
What shall I do? say what; what shall I do? 300
Pros. Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea:
be subject

To no sight but thine and mine, invisible 250 To every eyeball else. Go take this shape And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence! [Exit Ariel.



Pros. Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;
the ooze
Of the salt deep,

To run upon the sharp wind of the north,
To do me business in the veins o' the earth
When it is baked with frost.

Mir. The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.
Shake it off. Come on;
We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.
'Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.


But, as 'tis,
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood and serves in offices


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Thou strokedst me and madest 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 loved


And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,
The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and
fertile :


Cal. 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 !

Pros. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singi
have cramps,
FERDINAND following.
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath
up; urchins
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made 'em.

I must eat my dinner. 330
This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou takest from me. When thou camest


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Could not abide to be with; therefore wast th
Deservedly confined into this rock,
Who hadst deserved more than a prison.
Cal. You taught me language; and my pr

Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid
For learning me your language!

Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures


Hag-seed, hen
Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou 'rt best,
To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, mali
If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly
What I command, I'll rack thee with old cram
Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

No, pray th
[Aside] I must obey: his art is of such power,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.


So, slave; hence! [Exit Calib



Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:

Courtsied when you have and kiss'd
The wild waves whist,
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
Burthen [dispersedly]. Hark, hark!


The watch-dogs bark:


Ari. Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

Fer. Where should this music be? i' the ai the earth?

It sounds no more: and, sure, it waits upon
Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wreck,
This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion
With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.


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:
Burthen. Ding-de
Hark! now I hear them,-Ding-dong, b
Fer. The ditty does remember my


This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes. I hear it now above m
Pros. The fringed curtains of thine eye adva
And say what thou seest yond.

What is't? a spi
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.

Pros. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath | I'll manacle thy neck and feet together: 461
such senses
Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots and

As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest
Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'd
With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst|
call him

A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows And strays about to find 'em.


I might call him A thing divine, for nothing natural I ever saw so noble.

Pros. [Aside] It goes on, I see, As my soul prompts it. free thee

Within two days for this. Fer.

Spirit, fine spirit! I'll


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?


No wonder, sir;

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Alack, for mercy! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan


And his brave son being twain. [Aside] The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could control thee, If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this. [To Fer.] A word, good sir;


I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mir. 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 inclined my way!


O, if a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples.


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 Fer.] One word more;
I charge thee

That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself
Upon this island as a spy, to win it
From me, the lord on't."


No, as I am a man.

Mir. 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.
Speak not you for him; he's a traitor.

Follow me. Come;

Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

I will resist such entertainment till
Mine enemy has more power.

[Draws, and is charmed from moving.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle and not fearful.
What? I say,
My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy


Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward,
For I can here disarm thee with this stick
And make thy weapon drop.


Pros. Mir.


Beseech you, father. Hence! hang not on my garments. Sir, have pity;

I'll be his surety.
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.

My affections
Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

Come on; obey:
Thy nerves are in their infancy again
And have no vigour in them.

So they are;
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's

To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day 490
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

Pros. [Aside] It works. [To Fer.] Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To Fer.] Follow me.


[To Ari.] Hark what thou else shalt do me.
Be of comfort;
My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
Which now came from him.

Thou shalt be as free
As mountain winds: but then exactly do
All points of my command.

To the syllable. 500
Pros. Come, follow. Speak not for him.

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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.

Seb. The old cock.
Ant. The cockerel.

Seb. Done. The wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match!


Prithee, peace.
Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so. 11
Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his
wit; by and by it will strike.

Ant. Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow in? widow Dido!

Gon. Sir,

Seb. What if he had said 'widower Æneas' too? Good Lord, how you take it!

Seb. One: tell.

Adr. 'Widow Dido' said you? you make me

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd that's study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. offer'd, Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Comes to the entertainer

Adr. Carthage?

Seb. A dollar.

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.


Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed.


Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath raised the wall and houses too. Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?

Gon. Therefore, my lord,

Seb. I think he will carry this island home in


Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his his pocket and give it his son for an apple. Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.


Alon. I prithee, spare.

Gon. Well, I have done: but yet,

Gon. Ay.

Seb. He will be talking..

Ant. Why, in good time.

Ant. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?


Gon. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. Ant. O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido. Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Ant. That sort was well fished for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's mar


Though this island seem to be desert,
Seb. Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid.
Adr. Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,-
Seb. Yet,-

Adr. Yet,

Ant. He could not miss 't.


Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate temperance.

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

Adr. The air breathes upon us here most

Seb. As if it had lungs and rotten ones.
Ant. Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.


Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.
Seb. Of that there's none, or little.
Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how

Ant. The ground indeed is tawny.
Seb. With an eye of green in't.
Ant. He misses not much.

Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is,-which is indeed almost beyond credit,—

Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. 71

Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time..

Seb. As many vouched rarities are.

Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water.

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies?

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?



Alon. You cram these words into mine ears

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 removed

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