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Thou strok❜dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st | Weeping again the king my father's wreck,

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.
Cursed be I that did so!-All the charms

Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you;
For I am all the subjects that you have,

Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me,
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest o' th' island.

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Which any print of goodness will not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,

Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known: but thy vile 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.

Cal. 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 !

Pro.

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.

Cal.

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. Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father.This is no mortal business, nor no sound

That the earth owes3-I hear it now above me.

[Music above.* Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance And say, what thou seest yond'. Mira.

What is 't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form:-but 'tis a spirit. Pro. No, wench: it eats, and sleeps, and hath such

senses

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Fer.
Most sure, the goddess [Seeing her.5
On whom these airs attend!-Vouchsafe, my prayer
May know if you remain upon this island, [Kneels.
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!
!-
[Aside. If you be maid, or no?
Mira.

No, pray thee!

I must obey; his art is of such power,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.

Pro.

So, slave; hence! [Exit CALIBAN. ·Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDI

NAND following.1
ARIEL'S Song.

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:

Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd The wild waves whist,

Foot it featly here and there;2

And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Hark, hark!

Burden. Bow, wow.

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[Dispersedly.

Fer. Where should this music be? i' th' It sounds no more;-and sure, it waits upon Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,

[earth? air, or th'

But, certainly a maid. Fer.

No wonder, sir;

6

My language! heavens!-Rises." I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken.

Pro. How the best? What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee? Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me, And that he does I weep; myself am Naples ; Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The king, my father, wreck'd.

Mira. Alack, for mercy! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of Milan, And his brave son, being twain.

Pro. The duke of Milan, And his more braver daughter, could control thee, If now 'twere fit to do't.-[Aside.] At the first sight They have chang'd eyes-delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this !-[To him.] A word, good sir; I fear, you have done yourself some wrong: a word. Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This

1 f. e. have "him." 2 The old copies read: "Foot it featly here and there, and sweet sprites bear the burden." The MS. annotator of the folio of 1632, anticipated later critics in altering the passage as it stands in the text. 6 Not in f. e. 7 Not in f. e.

3 Owns. 4 Not in f. e. 5 Not in f. e.

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

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

Mira.
Beseech you, father!
Pro. Hence! hang not on my garments.
Mira.
I'll be his surety.
Pro.

Sir, have pity:

Silence! one word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an impostor? hush!

Thou think'st there are no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban,

Make the prize light.-[To him.] One word more: I And they to him are angels.

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My affections

Are then most humble: I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.
Pro.

Come on; obey: [To FERD.
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.
Fer.

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 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.
Pro.

It works. Come on.

Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!-Follow me.-
[To FERD. and MIR.
[To ARIEL.
Be of comfort.

Hark, what thou else shalt do me.
Mira.

My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.

Pro.

Thou shalt be as free

As mountain winds: but then, exactly do
All points of my command.
Ari.

To the syllable.
Pro. Come, follow.-Speak not for him.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Another part of the Island.
Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO,
ADRIAN, FRANCISCO and Others.

Gon. 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 master1 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.

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

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.

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Seb. Ay, and a subtle, as he most learnedly delivered.
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.

Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

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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

Gon. How lush' and lusty the grass looks! how green! To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.

Seb. With an eye2 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. As many vouch'd rarities are.

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

As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt,

He came alive to land.

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Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it Weigh'd between lothness and obedience, as3 not say, he lies?

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

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

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time.

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

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

Adr. Widow Dido, said you! you make me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Adr. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp.
Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.
Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?
Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his
pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

Which end o' the 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.

Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.
Gon.
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.
Seb.

Very well.

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.
Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.

Seb.

Ant.

Foul weather?

Very foul.

Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,-
Ant. He'd sow 't with neddle-seed.
Seb.
Or docks, or mallows.
Gon. And were the king on't, what would I do?
Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things, for no kind of traffic

Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring Would I admit;5 no name of magistrate; forth more islands.

Gon. Ay?

Ant. Why, in good time.

Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seem now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen.

Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.
Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Ant. O! widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.

Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil :
No occupation, all men idle, all;
And women, too, but innocent and pure.
No sovereignty :-

Seb. Yet he would be king on't.

Ant. The latter end of this commonwealth forgets

Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day the beginning. I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?
Alon. 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?

Gon. 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 its own kind, all foisson, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

6

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?
Ant. None, man; all idle; whores, and knaves,
Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.
Seb.
'Save his majesty !

1 Juicy. 2 Slight shade of color. 3 at in f. e. 4 She'd in f. e. 5 It is a nation, would I answer Plato, that hath no kinde of traffike, no knowledge of Letters, no intelligence of numbers, no name of magistrate, nor of politike superioritie; no use of service, of riches, or of povertie; no contracts, no successions, no dividences, no occupation but idle; no respect of kinred, but common, no apparel but, naturall, no manuring of lands, no use of wine. corne, or mettle. The very that import lying, falshood, treason, dissimulations, covetousnes, envie, detraction, and pardon, were never heard of amongst them.-Montaigne, Florio's translation, 1603. 6 Plenty.

t

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 above,1 invisible, playing solemn music.
Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.
Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

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

Please you, sir,

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.
Ant.

We two, my lord,

Will guard your person while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.

Alon. Thank you. Wondrous heavy.-[ALON. sleeps.
Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Ant. It is the quality of the climate.
Seb.
Why
Doth it not, then, our eye-lids sink? I find not
Myself disposed 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,

2

What thou should'st be. Th' occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
Seb.

What! art thou waking?
Ant. Do you not hear me speak?
Seb.

I do; and, surely,
It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.

Ant.
Noble Sebastian,
Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st
Whiles thou art waking.

Seb.

Thou dost snore distinctly: There's meaning in thy snores. Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do, Trebles thee o'er.

Seb.

Well; I am standing water. Ant. I'll teach you how to flow. Seb.

lereditary sloth instructs me.

O!

Ant. If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, Most often do so near the bottom run By their own fear, or sloth. Seb.

Pr'ythee, say on.

The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim
A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
Which throes thee much to yield.

Ant.
Thus, sir,
Although this lord of weak remembrance, this
(Who shall be of as little memory,
When he is earth'd) hath here almost persuaded
(For he's a spirit of persuasion, only
Professes to persuade) the king, his son's alive,
'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd,
As he that sleeps here, swims.
Seb. I have no hope
That he 's undrown'd.
Ant.

O! out of that no hope,
What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is
Another way so high a hope, that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with me,
That Ferdinand is drown'd?
Seb.
He's gone.
Ant.

Then, tell me,

Claribel.

Who's the next heir of Naples?
Seb.
Ant. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells
Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post,
(The man i' the moon's too slow) till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable; she, for3 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's1 to come,
In yours and my discharge.

Seb.
What stuff is this!-How say you?
'Tis true, my brother's daughter 's queen of Tunis;
So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions
There is some space.

Ant.
A space whose every cubit
Scems to cry out, "How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples ?"-Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake!-Say, this were death
That now hath seized them; why, they were no 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?

Seb. Methinks, I do.

Ant.
And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?
Seb.
I remember,
You did supplant your brother Prospero.
Ant.
And look how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before. My brother's servants
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.

Seb. But, for your conscience

True:

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kybe, '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,

Do so to ebb

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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.

Seb.
Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent: as thou got'st Milan,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st,
And I, the king, shall love thee.
Ant.

Draw together;
And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.

Seb.

O! but one word. [They converse apart.
Music. ARIEL descends invisible.1

Ari. 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 them living.
[Sings in GONZALO's
While you here do snoring lie,
Open-eyed conspiracy

His time doth take.

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

Ant. Then, let us both be sudden.
Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king!

And yet I needs must curse; but they'll not pinch,
Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but
For every trifle are they set upon me :
Sometime like apes, that moe 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.-Lo, now! lo!
Enter TRINCulo.

Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly: I'll fall flat;
Perchance, he will not mind me.

Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' the 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 ? [Seeing Caliban.] a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fishear.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 a thunder-bolt. [Thunder.] Alas! the storm is come again: my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud, till the drench' of the storm be past.

[They wake. Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you drawn?

Wherefore thus2 ghastly looking?
Gon.
What's the matter?
Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing,
Like bulls, or rather lions: did it not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.

Alon.

I heard nothing.
Ant. 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.

Alon.
Heard you this, Gonzalo?
Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me.
I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd: as mine eyes open'd,
I saw their weapons drawn.-There was a noise,
That's verity:3 tis best we stand upon our guard,
Or that we quit this place. Let's draw our weapons.
Alon. Lead off this ground, and let's make farther
search

For my poor son.

Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts, For he is, sure, i' the island.

Alon.

Lead away. [Exeunt.
Ari. 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.

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,

Enter STEPHANO, singing; a bottle in his hand. Ste. 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 where-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.
Cal. Do not torment me: O!

Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not 'scap'd 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: O!

Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be but for that: if I can recover him, and keep

1 Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible : in f. e. 2 this in f. e. 3 Collier's ed., 1844, reads, "verily "-most of the other editions, "verity," as in the text. 4 nor: in f. e. 5 The name of a large vessel to contain drink, as well as of a piece of artillery. Not in f. e. dregs: in f. e.

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