Scanner’s Notes: What this is and isn’t. This was taken from a copy of Shakespeare’s first folio and it is as close as I can come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S’s have been changed to small s’s and the conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling, punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the Geneva Bible and Shakespeare’s First Folio and have unified spellings according to this template), typo’s and expanded abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within brackets [] is what I have added. So if you don’t like that you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual differences between various copies of the first folio. So there may be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between this and other first folio editions. This is due to the printer’s habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn’t thrown away but incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the way it is. The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different First Folio editions’ best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel free to email me those errors. I wish to make this the best etext possible. My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com and davidr@inconnect.com. I hope that you enjoy this.
David Reed
The Tempest
Actus primus, Scena prima.
A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: Enter a Ship-master,
and a Boteswaine.
Master: Bote-swaine
Botes: Heere Master: What cheere?
Master: Good: Speake to th’ Mariners: fall too’t, yarely, or we run our selves a ground, bestirre, bestirre.
Enter.
Enter Mariners.
Botes: Heigh my hearts, cheerely, cheerely my harts: yare, yare: Take in the toppe-sale: Tend to th’ Masters whistle: Blow till thou burst thy winde, if roome enough.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando, Gonzalo, and others.
Alon: Good Boteswaine have care: where’s the Master? Play the men.
Botes: I pray now keepe below.
Anth: Where is the Master, Boson?
Botes: Do you not heare him? you marre our labour, Keepe your Cabines: you do assist the storme.
Gonz: Nay, good be patient.
Botes. When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roarers for the name of King? to Cabine; silence: trouble vs not.
Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboord.
Botes. None that I more loue then my selfe. You are a Counsellor, if you can command these Elements to silence, and worke the peace of the present, wee will not hand a rope more, vse your authoritie: If you cannot, giue thankes you haue liu’d so long, and make your selfe readie in your Cabine for the mischance of the houre, if it so hap. Cheerely good hearts: out of our way I say.
Enter.
Gon. I haue great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning marke vpon him, his complexion is perfect Gallowes: stand fast good Fate to his hanging, make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our owne doth little aduantage: If he be not borne to bee hang’d, our case is miserable.
Enter.
Enter Boteswaine
Botes. Downe with the top-Mast: yare, lower, lower, bring her to Try with Maine-course. A plague –
A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo.
vpon this howling: they are lowder then the weather, or our office: yet againe? What do you heere? Shal we giue ore and drowne, haue you a minde to sinke?
Sebas. A poxe o’your throat, you bawling, blasphemous incharitable Dog.
Botes. Worke you then.
Anth. Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noyse-maker, we are lesse afraid to be drownde, then thou art.
Gonz. I’le warrant him for drowning, though the Ship were no stronger then a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as an vnstanched wench.
Botes. Lay her a hold, a hold, set her two courses off to Sea againe, lay her off.
Enter Mariners wet.
Mari. All lost, to prayers, to prayers, all lost.
Botes. What must our mouths be cold?
Gonz. The King, and Prince, at prayers, let’s assist them, for our case is as theirs
Sebas. I’am out of patience
An. We are meerly cheated of our liues by drunkards, This wide-chopt-rascall, would thou mightst lye drowning the washing of ten Tides
Gonz. Hee’l be hang’d yet,
Though euery drop of water sweare against it, And gape at widst to glut him.
A confused noyse within.
Mercy on vs.
We split, we split, Farewell my wife, and children, Farewell brother: we split, we split, we split
Anth. Let’s all sinke with’ King
Seb. Let’s take leaue of him.
Enter.
Gonz. Now would I giue a thousand furlongs of Sea, for an Acre of barren ground: Long heath, Browne firrs, any thing; the wills aboue be done, but I would faine dye a dry death.
Enter.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Prospero and Miranda.
Mira. If by your Art (my deerest father) you haue Put the wild waters in this Rore; alay them: The skye it seemes would powre down stinking pitch, But that the Sea, mounting to th’ welkins cheeke, Dashes the fire out. Oh! I haue suffered With those that I saw suffer: A braue vessell (Who had no doubt some noble creature in her) Dash’d all to peeces: O the cry did knocke Against my very heart: poore soules, they perish’d. Had I byn any God of power, I would
Haue suncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere It should the good Ship so haue swallow’d, and The fraughting Soules within her
Pros. Be collected,
No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart there’s no harme done
Mira. O woe, the day
Pros. No harme:
I haue done nothing, but in care of thee (Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who Art ignorant of what thou art. naught knowing Of whence I am: nor that I am more better Then Prospero, Master of a full poore cell, And thy no greater Father
Mira. More to know
Did neuer medle with my thoughts
Pros. ‘Tis time
I should informe thee farther: Lend thy hand And plucke my Magick garment from me: So, Lye there my Art: wipe thou thine eyes, haue comfort, The direfull spectacle of the wracke which touch’d The very vertue of compassion in thee:
I haue with such prouision in mine Art So safely ordered, that there is no soule No not so much perdition as an hayre
Betid to any creature in the vessell Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw’st sinke: Sit downe, For thou must now know farther
Mira. You haue often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt And left me to a bootelesse Inquisition, Concluding, stay: not yet
Pros. The howr’s now come
The very minute byds thee ope thine eare, Obey, and be attentiue. Canst thou remember A time before we came vnto this Cell?
I doe not thinke thou canst, for then thou was’t not Out three yeeres old
Mira. Certainely Sir, I can
Pros. By what? by any other house, or person? Of any thing the Image, tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance
Mira. ‘Tis farre off:
And rather like a dreame, then an assurance That my remembrance warrants: Had I not
Fowre, or fiue women once, that tended me?
Pros. Thou hadst; and more Miranda: But how is it That this liues in thy minde? What seest thou els In the dark-backward and Abisme of Time? Yf thou remembrest ought ere thou cam’st here, How thou cam’st here thou maist
Mira. But that I doe not
Pros. Twelue yere since (Miranda) twelue yere since, Thy father was the Duke of Millaine and
A Prince of power:
Mira. Sir, are not you my Father?
Pros. Thy Mother was a peece of vertue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Millaine, and his onely heire, And Princesse; no worse Issued
Mira. O the heauens,
What fowle play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed was’t we did?
Pros. Both, both my Girle.
By fowle-play (as thou saist) were we heau’d thence, But blessedly holpe hither
Mira. O my heart bleedes
To thinke oth’ teene that I haue turn’d you to, Which is from my remembrance, please you, farther;
Pros. My brother and thy vncle, call’d Anthonio: I pray thee marke me, that a brother should Be so perfidious: he, whom next thy selfe Of all the world I lou’d, and to him put The mannage 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 liberall Artes,
Without a paralell; those being all my studie, The Gouernment I cast vpon my brother,
And to my State grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies, thy false vncle (Do’st thou attend me?)
Mira. Sir, most heedefully
Pros. Being once perfected how to graunt suites, how to deny them: who t’ aduance, and who To trash for ouer-topping; new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang’d ’em, Or els new form’d ’em; hauing both the key, Of Officer, and office, set all hearts i’th state To what tune pleas’d his eare, that now he was The Iuy which had hid my princely Trunck, And suckt my verdure out on’t: Thou attend’st not?
Mira. O good Sir, I doe
Pros. I pray thee marke me:
I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closenes, and the bettering of my mind with that, which but by being so retir’d Ore-priz’d all popular rate: in my false brother Awak’d an euill nature, and my trust
Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood in it’s contrarie, as great
As my trust was, which had indeede no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus Lorded, Not onely with what my reuenew yeelded,
But what my power might els exact. Like one Who hauing into truth, by telling of it, Made such a synner of his memorie
To credite his owne lie, he did beleeue He was indeed the Duke, out o’th’ Substitution And executing th’ outward face of Roialtie With all prerogatiue: hence his Ambition growing: Do’st thou heare ?
Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafenesse
Pros. To haue no Schreene between this part he plaid, And him he plaid it for, he needes will be Absolute Millaine, Me (poore man) my Librarie Was Dukedome large enough: of temporall roalties He thinks me now incapable. Confederates (so drie he was for Sway) with King of Naples To giue him Annuall tribute, doe him homage Subiect his Coronet, to his Crowne and bend The Dukedom yet vnbow’d (alas poore Millaine) To most ignoble stooping
Mira. Oh the heauens:
Pros. Marke his condition, and th’ euent, then tell me If this might be a brother
Mira. I should sinne
To thinke but Noblie of my Grand-mother, Good wombes haue borne bad sonnes
Pro. Now the Condition.
This King of Naples being an Enemy
To me inueterate, hearkens my Brothers suit, Which was, That he in lieu o’th’ premises, Of homage, and I know not how much Tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine
Out of the Dukedome, and confer faire Millaine With all the Honors, on my brother: Whereon A treacherous Armie leuied, one mid-night Fated to th’ purpose, did Anthonio open
The gates of Millaine, and ith’ dead of darkenesse The ministers for th’ purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying selfe
Mir. Alack, for pitty:
I not remembring how I cride out then Will cry it ore againe: it is a hint
That wrings mine eyes too’t
Pro. Heare a little further,
And then I’le bring thee to the present businesse Which now’s vpon’s: without the which, this Story Were most impertinent
Mir. Wherefore did they not
That howre destroy vs?
Pro. Well demanded, wench:
My Tale prouokes that question: Deare, they durst not, So deare the loue my people bore me: nor set A marke so bloudy on the businesse; but
With colours fairer, painted their foule ends. In few, they hurried vs aboord a Barke,
Bore vs some Leagues to Sea, where they prepared A rotten carkasse of a Butt, not rigg’d, Nor tackle, sayle, nor mast, the very rats Instinctiuely haue quit it: There they hoyst vs To cry to th’ Sea, that roard to vs; to sigh To th’ windes, whose pitty sighing backe againe Did vs but louing wrong
Mir. Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you?
Pro. O, a Cherubin
Thou was’t that did preserue me; Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from heauen,
When I haue deck’d the sea with drops full salt, Vnder my burthen groan’d, which rais’d in me An vndergoing stomacke, to beare vp
Against what should ensue
Mir. How came we a shore?
Pro. By prouidence diuine,
Some food, we had, and some fresh water, that A noble Neopolitan Gonzalo
Out of his Charity, (who being then appointed Master of this designe) did giue vs, with Rich garments, linnens, stuffs, and necessaries Which since haue steeded much, so of his gentlenesse Knowing I lou’d my bookes, he furnishd me From mine owne Library, with volumes, that I prize aboue my Dukedome
Mir. Would I might
But euer see that man
Pro. Now I arise,
Sit still, and heare the last of our sea-sorrow: Heere in this Iland we arriu’d, and heere Haue I, thy Schoolemaster, made thee more profit Then other Princesse can, that haue more time For vainer howres; and Tutors, not so carefull
Mir. Heuens thank you for’t. And now I pray you Sir, For still ’tis beating in my minde; your reason For raysing this Sea-storme?
Pro. Know thus far forth,
By accident most strange, bountifull Fortune (Now my deere Lady) hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore: And by my prescience I finde my Zenith doth depend vpon
A most auspitious starre, whose influence If now I court not, but omit; my fortunes Will euer after droope: Heare cease more questions, Thou art inclinde to sleepe: ’tis a good dulnesse, And giue it way: I know thou canst not chuse: Come away, Seruant, come; I am ready now, Approach my Ariel. Come.
Enter Ariel.
Ari. All haile, great Master, graue Sir, haile: I come To answer thy best pleasure; be’t to fly, To swim, to diue into the fire: to ride
On the curld clowds: to thy strong bidding, taske Ariel, and all his Qualitie
Pro. Hast thou, Spirit,
Performd to point, the Tempest that I bad thee
Ar. To euery Article.
I boorded the Kings ship: now on the Beake, Now in the Waste, the Decke, in euery Cabyn, I flam’d amazement, sometime I’ld diuide And burne in many places; on the Top-mast, The Yards and Bore-spritt, would I flame distinctly, Then meete, and ioyne. Ioues Lightning, the precursers O’th dreadfull Thunder-claps more momentarie And sight out-running were not; the fire, and cracks Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune Seeme to besiege, and make his bold waues tremble, Yea, his dread Trident shake
Pro. My braue Spirit,
Who was so firme, so constant, that this coyle Would not infect his reason?
Ar. Not a soule
But felt a Feauer of the madde, and plaid Some tricks of desperation; all but Mariners Plung’d in the foaming bryne, and quit the vessell; Then all a fire with me the Kings sonne Ferdinand With haire vp-staring (then like reeds, not haire) Was the first man that leapt; cride hell is empty, And all the Diuels are heere
Pro. Why that’s my spirit:
But was not this nye shore?
Ar. Close by, my Master
Pro. But are they (Ariell) safe?
Ar. Not a haire perishd:
On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher then before: and as thou badst me, In troops I haue dispersd them ’bout the Isle: The Kings sonne haue I landed by himselfe, Whom I left cooling of the Ayre with sighes, In an odde Angle of the Isle, and sitting His armes in this sad knot
Pro. Of the Kings ship,
The Marriners, say how thou hast disposd, And all the rest o’th’ Fleete?
Ar. Safely in harbour
Is the Kings shippe, in the deepe Nooke, where once Thou calldst me vp at midnight to fetch dewe From the still-vext Bermoothes, there she’s hid; The Marriners all vnder hatches stowed,
Who, with a Charme ioynd to their suffred labour I haue left asleep: and for the rest o’th’ Fleet (Which I dispers’d) they all haue met againe, And are vpon the Mediterranian Flote
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the Kings ship wrackt, And his great person perish
Pro. Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform’d; but there’s more worke: What is the time o’th’ day?
Ar. Past the mid season
Pro. At least two Glasses: the time ‘twixt six & now Must by vs both be spent most preciously
Ar. Is there more toyle? Since y dost giue me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis’d, Which is not yet perform’d me
Pro. How now? moodie?
What is’t thou canst demand?
Ar. My Libertie
Pro. Before the time be out? no more:
Ar. I prethee,
Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice, Told thee no lyes, made thee no mistakings, serv’d Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promise To bate me a full yeere
Pro. Do’st thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?
Ar. No
Pro. Thou do’st: & thinkst it much to tread y Ooze Of the salt deepe;
To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North, To doe me businesse in the veines o’th’ earth When it is bak’d with frost
Ar. I doe not Sir
Pro. Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot The fowle Witch Sycorax, who with Age and Enuy Was growne into a hoope? hast thou forgot her?
Ar. No Sir
Pro. Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me:
Ar. Sir, in Argier
Pro. Oh, was she so: I must
Once in a moneth recount what thou hast bin, Which thou forgetst. This damn’d Witch Sycorax For mischiefes manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter humane hearing, from Argier
Thou know’st was banish’d: for one thing she did They wold not take her life: Is not this true?
Ar. I, Sir
Pro. This blew ey’d hag, was hither brought with child, And here was left by th’ Saylors; thou my slaue, As thou reportst thy selfe, was then her seruant, And for thou wast a Spirit too delicate
To act her earthy, and abhord commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee By helpe of her more potent Ministers,
And in her most vnmittigable rage,
Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift Imprison’d, thou didst painefully remaine A dozen yeeres: within which space she di’d, And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanes As fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island (Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere, A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour’d with A humane shape
Ar. Yes: Caliban her sonne
Pro. Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban Whom now I keepe in seruice, thou best know’st What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breasts Of euer-angry Beares; it was a torment
To lay vpon the damn’d, which Sycorax Could not againe vndoe: it was mine Art, When I arriu’d, and heard thee, that made gape The Pyne, and let thee out
Ar. I thanke thee Master
Pro. If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an Oake And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till Thou hast howl’d away twelue winters
Ar. Pardon, Master,
I will be correspondent to command
And doe my spryting, gently
Pro. Doe so: and after two daies
I will discharge thee
Ar. That’s my noble Master:
What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe?
Pro. Goe make thy selfe like a Nymph o’th’ Sea, Be subiect to no sight but thine, and mine: inuisible To euery eye-ball else: goe take this shape And hither come in’t: goe: hence
With diligence.
Enter.
Pro. Awake, deere hart awake, thou hast slept well, Awake
Mir. The strangenes of your story, put Heauinesse in me
Pro. Shake it off: Come on,
Wee’ll visit Caliban, my slaue, who neuer Yeelds vs kinde answere
Mir. ‘Tis a villaine Sir, I doe not loue to looke on
Pro. But as ’tis
We cannot misse him: he do’s make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serues in Offices That profit vs: What hoa: slaue: Caliban: Thou Earth, thou: speake
Cal. within. There’s wood enough within
Pro. Come forth I say, there’s other busines for thee: Come thou Tortoys, when?
Enter Ariel like a water Nymph.
Fine apparision: my queint Ariel,
Hearke in thine eare
Ar. My Lord, it shall be done.
Enter.
Pro. Thou poysonous slaue, got by y diuell himselfe Vpon thy wicked Dam; come forth.
Enter Caliban.
Cal. As wicked dewe, as ere my mother brush’d With Rauens feather from vnwholesome Fen Drop on you both: A Southwest blow on yee, And blister you all ore
Pro. For this be sure, to night thou shalt haue cramps, Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath vp, Vrchins Shall for that vast of night, that they may worke All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch’d As thicke as hony-combe, each pinch more stinging Then Bees that made ’em
Cal. 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 stroakst me, & made much of me: wouldst giue me Water with berries in’t: and teach me how To name the bigger Light, and how the lesse That burne by day, and night: and then I lou’d thee And shew’d thee all the qualities o’th’ Isle, The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertill, Curs’d be I that did so: All the Charmes Of Sycorax: Toades, Beetles, Batts light on you: For I am all the Subiects that you haue, Which first was min owne King: and here you sty-me In this hard Rocke, whiles you doe keepe from me The rest o’th’ Island
Pro. Thou most lying slaue,
Whom stripes may moue, not kindnes: I haue vs’d thee (Filth as thou art) with humane care, and lodg’d thee In mine owne Cell, till thou didst seeke to violate The honor of my childe
Cal. Oh ho, oh ho, would’t had bene done: Thou didst preuent me, I had peopel’d else This Isle with Calibans
Mira. Abhorred Slaue,
Which any print of goodnesse wilt not take, Being capable of all ill: I pittied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each houre One thing or other: when thou didst not (Sauage) Know thine owne meaning; but wouldst gabble, like A thing most brutish, I endow’d thy purposes With words that made them knowne: But thy vild race (Tho thou didst learn) had that in’t, which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Deseruedly confin’d into this Rocke, who hadst Deseru’d more then 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
Pros. Hag-seed, hence:
Fetch vs in Fewell, and be quicke thou’rt best To answer other businesse: shrug’st thou (Malice) If thou neglectst, or dost vnwillingly
What I command, Ile racke thee with old Crampes, Fill all thy bones with Aches, make thee rore, That beasts shall tremble at thy dyn
Cal. No, ‘pray thee.
I must obey, his Art is of such pow’r, It would controll my Dams god Setebos,
And make a vassaile of him
Pro. So slaue, hence.
Exit Cal.
Enter Ferdinand & Ariel, inuisible playing & singing.
Ariel Song. Come vnto these yellow sands, and then take hands:
Curtsied when you haue, and kist the wilde waues whist: Foote it featly heere, and there, and sweete Sprights beare the burthen.
Burthen dispersedly.
Harke, harke, bowgh wawgh: the watch-Dogges barke, bowgh-wawgh
Ar. Hark, hark, I heare, the straine of strutting Chanticlere cry cockadidle-dowe
Fer. Where shold this Musick be? I’th aire, or th’ earth? It sounds no more: and sure it waytes vpon Some God o’th’ Iland, sitting on a banke, Weeping againe the King my Fathers wracke. This Musicke crept by me vpon the waters, Allaying both their fury, and my passion With it’s sweet ayre: thence I haue follow’d it (Or it hath drawne me rather) but ’tis gone. No, it begins againe
Ariell Song. Full fadom fiue thy Father lies, Of his bones are Corrall made:
Those are pearles that were his eies, Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a Sea-change
Into something rich, & strange: Sea-Nimphs hourly ring his knell.
Burthen: ding dong.
Harke now I heare them, ding-dong bell
Fer. The Ditty do’s remember my drown’d father, This is no mortall busines, nor no sound That the earth owes: I heare it now aboue me
Pro. The fringed Curtaines of thine eye aduance, And say what thou see’st yond
Mira. What is’t a Spirit?
Lord, how it lookes about: Beleeue me sir, It carries a braue forme. But ’tis a spirit
Pro. No wench, it eats, and sleeps, & hath such senses As we haue: such. This Gallant which thou seest Was in the wracke: and but hee’s something stain’d With greefe (that’s beauties canker) y might’st call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellowes, And strayes about to finde ’em
Mir. I might call him
A thing diuine, for nothing naturall I euer saw so Noble
Pro. It goes on I see
As my soule prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, Ile free thee Within two dayes for this
Fer. Most sure the Goddesse
On whom these ayres attend: Vouchsafe my pray’r May know if you remaine vpon this Island, And that you will some good instruction giue How I may beare me heere: my prime request (Which I do last pronounce) is (O you wonder) If you be Mayd, or no?
Mir. No wonder Sir,
But certainly a Mayd
Fer. My Language? Heauens:
I am the best of them that speake this speech, Were I but where ’tis spoken
Pro. How? the best?
What wer’t thou if the King of Naples heard thee?
Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To heare thee speake of Naples: he do’s heare me, And that he do’s, I weepe: my selfe am Naples, Who, with mine eyes (neuer since at ebbe) beheld The King my Father wrack’t
Mir. Alacke, for mercy
Fer. Yes faith, & all his Lords, the Duke of Millaine And his braue sonne, being twaine
Pro. The Duke of Millaine
And his more brauer daughter, could controll thee If now ’twere fit to do’t: At the first sight They haue chang’d eyes: Delicate Ariel,
Ile set thee free for this. A word good Sir, I feare you haue done your selfe some wrong: A word
Mir. Why speakes my father so vngently? This Is the third man that ere I saw: the first That ere I sigh’d for: pitty moue my father To be enclin’d my way
Fer. O, if a Virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, Ile make you The Queene of Naples
Pro. Soft sir, one word more.
They are both in eythers pow’rs: But this swift busines I must vneasie make, least too light winning Make the prize light. One word more: I charge thee That thou attend me: Thou do’st heere vsurpe The name thou ow’st not, and hast put thy selfe Vpon this Island, as a spy, to win it
From me, the Lord on’t
Fer. No, as I am a man
Mir. Ther’s nothing ill, can dwell in such a Temple, If the ill-spirit haue so fayre a house, Good things will striue to dwell with’t
Pro. Follow me
Pros. Speake not you for him: hee’s a Traitor: come, Ile manacle thy necke and feete together: Sea water shalt thou drinke: thy food shall be The fresh-brooke Mussels, wither’d roots, and huskes Wherein the Acorne cradled. Follow
Fer. No,
I will resist such entertainment, till Mine enemy ha’s more pow’r.
He drawes, and is charmed from mouing.
Mira. O deere Father,
Make not too rash a triall of him, for Hee’s gentle, and not fearfull
Pros. What I say,
My foote my Tutor? Put thy sword vp Traitor, Who mak’st a shew, but dar’st not strike: thy conscience Is so possest with guilt: Come, from thy ward, For I can heere disarme thee with this sticke, And make thy weapon drop
Mira. Beseech you Father
Pros. Hence: hang not on my garments
Mira. Sir haue pity,
Ile be his surety
Pros. Silence: One word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What, An aduocate for an Impostor? Hush:
Thou think’st there is no more such shapes as he, (Hauing seene but him and Caliban:) Foolish wench, To th’ most of men, this is a Caliban,
And they to him are Angels
Mira. My affections
Are then most humble: I haue no ambition To see a goodlier man
Pros. Come on, obey:
Thy Nerues are in their infancy againe. And haue no vigour in them
Fer. So they are:
My spirits, as in a dreame, are all bound vp: My Fathers losse, the weaknesse which I feele, The wracke of all my friends, nor this mans threats, To whom I am subdude, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this Mayd: all corners else o’th’ Earth Let liberty make vse of: space enough
Haue I in such a prison
Pros. It workes: Come on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariell: follow me, Harke what thou else shalt do mee
Mira. Be of comfort,
My Fathers of a better nature (Sir) Then he appeares by speech: this is vnwonted Which now came from him
Pros. Thou shalt be as free
As mountaine windes; but then exactly do All points of my command
Ariell. To th’ syllable
Pros. Come follow: speake not for him.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and
others.
Gonz. Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue cause, (So haue we all) of ioy; for our escape
Is much beyond our losse; our hint of woe Is common, euery day, some Saylors wife, The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant Haue iust our Theame of woe: But for the miracle, (I meane our preseruation) few in millions Can speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weigh Our sorrow, with our comfort
Alons. Prethee peace
Seb. He receiues comfort like cold porredge
Ant. The Visitor will not giue him ore so
Seb. Looke, hee’s winding vp the watch of his wit, By and by it will strike
Gon. Sir
Seb. One: Tell
Gon. When euery greefe is entertaind, That’s offer’d comes to th’ entertainer
Seb. A dollor
Gon. Dolour comes to him indeed, you haue spoken truer then you purpos’d
Seb. You haue taken it wiselier then I meant you should
Gon. Therefore my Lord
Ant. Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue
Alon. I pre-thee spare
Gon. Well, I haue done: But yet
Seb. He will be talking
Ant. Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager, First begins to crow?
Seb. The old Cocke
Ant. The Cockrell
Seb. Done: The wager?
Ant. A Laughter
Seb. A match
Adr. Though this Island seeme to be desert
Seb. Ha, ha, ha
Ant. So: you’r paid
Adr. Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible
Seb. Yet
Adr. Yet
Ant. He could not misse’t
Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance
Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench
Seb. I, and a subtle, as he most learnedly deliuer’d
Adr. The ayre breathes vpon vs here most sweetly
Seb. As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones
Ant. Or, as ’twere perfum’d by a Fen
Gon. Heere is euery thing aduantageous to life
Ant. True, saue meanes to liue
Seb. Of that there’s none, or little
Gon. How lush and lusty the grasse lookes? How greene?
Ant. The ground indeed is tawny
Seb. With an eye of greene in’t
Ant. He misses not much
Seb. No: he doth but mistake the truth totally
Gon. But the rariety of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit
Seb. As many voucht rarieties are
Gon. That our Garments being (as they were) drencht in the Sea, hold notwithstanding their freshnesse and glosses, being rather new dy’de then stain’d with salte water
Ant. If but one of his pockets could speake, would it not say he lyes?
Seb. I, or very falsely pocket vp his report
Gon. Me thinkes our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Affricke, at the marriage of the kings faire daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis
Seb. ‘Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our returne
Adri. Tunis was neuer grac’d before with such a Paragon to their Queene
Gon. Not since widdow Dido’s time
Ant. Widow? A pox o’that: how came that Widdow in? Widdow Dido!
Seb. What if he had said Widdower aeneas too? Good Lord, how you take it?
Adri. Widdow Dido said you? You make me study of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis
Gon. This Tunis Sir was Carthage
Adri. Carthage?
Gon. I assure you Carthage
Ant. His word is more then the miraculous Harpe
Seb. He hath rais’d the wall, and houses too
Ant. What impossible matter wil he make easy next?
Seb. I thinke hee will carry this Island home in his pocket, and giue it his sonne for an Apple
Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bring forth more Islands
Gon. I
Ant. Why in good time
Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seeme now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now Queene
Ant. And the rarest that ere came there
Seb. Bate (I beseech you) widdow Dido
Ant. O Widdow Dido? I, Widdow Dido
Gon. Is not Sir my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I meane in a sort
Ant. That sort was well fish’d for
Gon. When I wore it at your daughters marriage
Alon. You cram these words into mine eares, against the stomacke of my sense: would I had neuer Married my daughter there: For comming thence My sonne is lost, and (in my rate) she too, Who is so farre from Italy remoued,
I ne’re againe shall see her: O thou mine heire Of Naples and of Millaine, what strange fish Hath made his meale on thee?
Fran. Sir he may liue,
I saw him beate the surges vnder him, And ride vpon their backes; he trod the water Whose enmity he flung aside: and brested The surge most swolne that met him: his bold head ‘Boue the contentious waues he kept, and oared Himselfe with his good armes in lusty stroke To th’ shore; that ore his waue-worne basis bowed As stooping to releeue him: I not doubt
He came aliue to Land
Alon. No, no, hee’s gone
Seb. Sir you may thank your selfe for this great losse, That would not blesse our Europe with your daughter, But rather loose her to an Affrican,
Where she at least, is banish’d from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the greefe on’t
Alon. Pre-thee peace
Seb. You were kneel’d too, & importun’d otherwise By all of vs: and the faire soule her selfe Waigh’d betweene loathnesse, and obedience, at Which end o’th’ beame should bow: we haue lost your son, I feare for euer: Millaine and Naples haue Mo widdowes in them of this businesse making, Then we bring men to comfort them:
The faults your owne
Alon. So is the deer’st oth’ losse
Gon. My Lord Sebastian,
The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse, And time to speake it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaister
Seb. Very well
Ant. And most Chirurgeonly
Gon. It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir, When you are cloudy
Seb. Fowle weather?
Ant. Very foule
Gon. Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord
Ant. Hee’d sow’t with Nettle-seed
Seb. Or dockes, or Mallowes
Gon. And were the King on’t, what would I do?
Seb. Scape being drunke, for want of Wine
Gon. I’th’ Commonwealth I would (by contraries) Execute all things: For no kinde of Trafficke Would I admit: No name of Magistrate:
Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty, And vse of seruice, none: Contract, Succession, Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none: No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle: No occupation, all men idle, all:
And Women too, but innocent and pure: No Soueraignty
Seb. Yet he would be King on’t
Ant. The latter end of his Common-wealth forgets the beginning
Gon. All things in common Nature should produce Without sweat or endeuour: Treason, fellony, Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any Engine Would I not haue: but Nature should bring forth Of it owne kinde, all foyzon, all abundance To feed my innocent people
Seb. No marrying ‘mong his subiects?
Ant. None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues,
Gon. I would with such perfection gouerne Sir: T’ Excell the Golden Age
Seb. ‘Saue his Maiesty
Ant. Long liue Gonzalo
Gon. And do you marke me, Sir?
Alon. Pre-thee no more: thou dost talke nothing to me
Gon. I do well beleeue your Highnesse, and did it to minister occasion to these Gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble Lungs, that they alwayes vse 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 giuen?
Seb. And it had not falne flat-long
Gon. You are Gentlemen of braue mettal: you would lift the Moone out of her spheare, if she would continue in it fiue weekes without changing.
Enter Ariell playing solemne Musicke.
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 aduenture my discretion so weakly: Will you laugh me asleepe, for I am very heauy
Ant. Go sleepe, and heare vs
Alon. What, all so soone asleepe? I wish mine eyes Would (with themselues) shut vp my thoughts, I finde they are inclin’d to do so
Seb. Please you Sir,
Do not omit the heauy offer of it:
It sildome 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. Thanke you: Wondrous heauy
Seb. What a strange drowsines possesses them?
Ant. It is the quality o’th’ Clymate
Seb. Why
Doth it not then our eye-lids sinke? I finde Not my selfe dispos’d to sleep
Ant. Nor I, my spirits are nimble:
They fell together all, as by consent They dropt, as by a Thunder-stroke: what might Worthy Sebastian? O, what might? no more: And yet, me thinkes I see it in thy face, What thou should’st be: th’ occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination see’s a Crowne
Dropping vpon thy head
Seb. What? art thou waking?
Ant. Do you not heare me speake?
Seb. I do, and surely
It is a sleepy Language; and thou speak’st Out of thy sleepe: What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleepe
With eyes wide open: standing, speaking, mouing: And yet so fast asleepe
Ant. Noble Sebastian,
Thou let’st thy fortune sleepe: die rather: wink’st Whiles thou art waking
Seb. Thou do’st snore distinctly,
There’s meaning in thy snores
Ant. I am more serious then my custome: you Must be so too, if heed me: which to do, Trebbles thee o’re
Seb. Well: I am standing water
Ant. Ile teach you how to flow
Seb. Do so: to ebbe
Hereditary Sloth instructs me
Ant. O!
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mocke it: how in stripping it You more inuest it: ebbing men, indeed
(Most often) do so neere the bottome run By their owne feare, or sloth
Seb. ‘Pre-thee say on,
The setting of thine eye, and cheeke proclaime A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throwes thee much to yeeld
Ant. Thus Sir:
Although this Lord of weake remembrance; this Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earth’d, hath here almost perswaded (For hee’s a Spirit of perswasion, onely Professes to perswade) the King his sonne’s aliue, ‘Tis as impossible that hee’s vndrown’d, As he that sleepes heere, swims
Seb. I haue no hope
That hee’s vndrown’d
Ant. O, out of that no hope,
What great hope haue you? No hope that way, Is Another way so high a hope, that euen
Ambition cannot pierce a winke beyond But doubt discouery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown’d
Seb. He’s gone
Ant. Then tell me, who’s the next heire of Naples?
Seb. Claribell
Ant. She that is Queene of Tunis: she that dwels Ten leagues beyond mans life: she that from Naples Can haue no note, vnlesse the Sun were post: The Man i’th Moone’s too slow, till new-borne chinnes Be rough, and Razor-able: She that from whom We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast againe, (And by that destiny) to performe an act Whereof, what’s past is Prologue; what to come In yours, and my discharge
Seb. What stuffe is this? How say you? ‘Tis true my brothers daughter’s Queene of Tunis, So is she heyre of Naples, ‘twixt which Regions There is some space
Ant. A space, whose eu’ry cubit
Seemes to cry out, how shall that Claribell Measure vs backe to Naples? keepe in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake. Say, this were death That now hath seiz’d them, why they were no worse Then now they are: There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleepes: Lords, that can prate As amply, and vnnecessarily
As this Gonzallo: I my selfe could make A Chough of as deepe chat: O, that you bore The minde that I do; what a sleepe were this For your aduancement? Do you vnderstand me?
Seb. Me thinkes I do
Ant. And how do’s your content
Tender your owne good fortune?
Seb. I remember
You did supplant your Brother Prospero
Ant. True:
And looke how well my Garments sit vpon me, Much feater then before: My Brothers seruants Were then my fellowes, now they are my men
Seb. But for your conscience
Ant. I Sir: where lies that? If ’twere a kybe ‘Twould put me to my slipper: But I feele not This Deity in my bosome: ‘Twentie consciences That stand ‘twixt me, and Millaine, candied be they, And melt ere they mollest: Heere lies your Brother, No better then the earth he lies vpon,
If he were that which now hee’s like (that’s dead) Whom I with this obedient steele (three inches of it) Can lay to bed for euer: whiles you doing thus, To the perpetuall winke for aye might put This ancient morsell: this Sir Prudence, who Should not vpbraid our course: for all the rest They’l take suggestion, as a Cat laps milke, They’l tell the clocke, to any businesse that We say befits the houre
Seb. Thy case, deere Friend
Shall be my president: As thou got’st Millaine, I’le come by Naples: Draw thy sword, one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou paiest, And I the King shall loue thee
Ant. Draw together:
And when I reare my hand, do you the like To fall it on Gonzalo
Seb. O, but one word.
Enter Ariell with Musicke and Song.
Ariel. My Master through his Art foresees the danger That you (his friend) are in, and sends me forth (For else his proiect dies) to keepe them liuing.
Sings in Gonzaloes eare.
While you here do snoaring lie,
Open-ey’d Conspiracie
His time doth take:
If of Life you keepe a care,
Shake off slumber and beware.
Awake, awake
Ant. Then let vs both be sodaine
Gon. Now, good Angels preserue the King
Alo. Why how now hoa; awake? why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking?
Gon. What’s the matter?
Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, (Euen now) we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like Buls, or rather Lyons, did’t not wake you? It strooke mine eare most terribly
Alo. I heard nothing
Ant. O, ’twas a din to fright a Monsters eare; To make an earthquake: sure it was the roare Of a whole heard of Lyons
Alo. Heard you this Gonzalo?
Gon. Vpon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming, (And that a strange one too) which did awake me: I shak’d you Sir, and cride: as mine eyes opend, I saw their weapons drawne: there was a noyse, That’s verily: ’tis best we stand vpon our guard; Or that we quit this place: let’s draw our weapons
Alo. Lead off this ground & let’s make further search For my poore sonne
Gon. Heauens keepe him from these Beasts: For he is sure i’th Island
Alo. Lead away
Ariell. Prospero my Lord, shall know what I haue done. So (King) goe safely on to seeke thy Son.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Caliban, with a burthen of Wood (a noyse of thunder heard.)
Cal. All the infections that the Sunne suckes vp From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By ynch-meale a disease: his Spirits heare me, And yet I needes must curse. But they’ll nor pinch, Fright me with Vrchyn-shewes, pitch me i’th mire, Nor lead me like a fire-brand, in the darke Out of my way, vnlesse he bid ’em; but
For euery trifle, are they set vpon me, Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me, And after bite me: then like Hedg-hogs, which Lye tumbling in my bare-foote way, and mount Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I All wound with Adders, who with clouen tongues Doe hisse me into madnesse: Lo, now Lo,
Enter Trinculo.
Here comes a Spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly: I’le fall flat, Perchance he will not minde me
Tri. Here’s neither bush, nor shrub to beare off any weather at all: and another Storme brewing, I heare it sing ith’ winde: yond same blacke cloud, yond huge one, lookes like a foule bumbard that would shed his licquor: if it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailefuls. What haue we here, a man, or a fish? dead or aliue? a fish, hee smels like a fish: a very ancient and fish-like smell: a kinde of, not of the newest poore-Iohn: a strange fish: were I in England now (as once I was) and had but this fish painted; not a holiday-foole there but would giue a peece of siluer: there, would this Monster, make a man: any strange beast there, makes a man: when they will not giue a doit to relieue a lame Begger, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian: Leg’d like a man; and his Finnes like Armes: warme o’my troth: I doe now let loose my opinion; hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an Islander, that hath lately suffered by a Thunderbolt: Alas, the storme is come againe: my best way is to creepe vnder his Gaberdine: there is no other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellowes: I will here shrowd till the dregges of the storme be past.
Enter Stephano singing..
Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, here shall I dye ashore. This is a very scuruy tune to sing at a mans Funerall: well, here’s my comfort.
Drinkes.
Sings.
The Master, the Swabber, the Boate-swaine & I; The Gunner, and his Mate
Lou’d Mall, Meg, and Marrian, and Margerie, But none of vs car’d for Kate.
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a Sailor goe hang:
She lou’d not the sauour of Tar nor of Pitch, Yet a Tailor might scratch her where ere she did itch. Then to Sea Boyes, and let her goe hang. This is a scuruy tune too:
But here’s my comfort.
Drinks.
Cal. Doe not torment me: oh
Ste. What’s the matter?
Haue we diuels here?
Doe you put trickes vpon’s with Saluages, and Men of Inde? ha? I haue not scap’d drowning, to be afeard now of your foure legges: for it hath bin said; as proper a man as euer went on foure legs, cannot make him giue ground: and it shall be said so againe, while Stephano breathes at’ nostrils
Cal. The Spirit torments me: oh
Ste. This is some Monster of the Isle, with foure legs; who hath got (as I take it) an Ague: where the diuell should he learne our language? I will giue him some reliefe if it be but for that: if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, and get to Naples with him, he’s a Present for any Emperour that euer trod on Neates-leather
Cal. Doe not torment me ‘prethee: I’le bring my wood home faster
Ste. He’s in his fit now; and doe’s not talke after the wisest; hee shall taste of my Bottle: if hee haue neuer drunke wine afore, it will goe neere to remoue his Fit: if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, I will not take too much for him; hee shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly
Cal. Thou do’st me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: Now Prosper workes vpon thee
Ste. Come on your wayes: open your mouth: here is that which will giue language to you Cat; open your mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who’s your friend; open your chaps againe
Tri. I should know that voyce:
It should be,
But hee is dround; and these are diuels; O defend me
Ste. Foure legges and two voyces; a most delicate Monster: his forward voyce now is to speake well of his friend; his backward voice, is to vtter foule speeches, and to detract: if all the wine in my bottle will recouer him, I will helpe his Ague: Come: Amen, I will poure some in thy other mouth
Tri. Stephano
Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy: This is a diuell, and no Monster: I will leaue him, I haue no long Spoone
Tri. Stephano: if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speake to me: for I am Trinculo; be not afeard, thy good friend Trinculo
Ste. If thou bee’st Trinculo: come forth: I’le pull thee by the lesser legges: if any be Trinculo’s legges, these are they: Thou art very Trinculo indeede: how cam’st thou to be the siege of this Moone-calfe? Can he vent Trinculo’s?
Tri. I tooke him to be kil’d with a thunder-strok; but art thou not dround Stephano: I hope now thou art not dround: Is the Storme ouer-blowne? I hid mee vnder the dead Moone-Calfes Gaberdine, for feare of the Storme: And art thou liuing Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitanes scap’d?
Ste. ‘Prethee doe not turne me about, my stomacke is not constant
Cal. These be fine things, and if they be not sprights: that’s a braue God, and beares Celestiall liquor: I will kneele to him
Ste. How did’st thou scape?
How cam’st thou hither?
Sweare by this Bottle how thou cam’st hither: I escap’d vpon a But of Sacke, which the Saylors heaued o’reboord, by this Bottle which I made of the barke of a Tree, with mine owne hands, since I was cast a’shore
Cal. I’le sweare vpon that Bottle, to be thy true subiect, for the liquor is not earthly
St. Heere: sweare then how thou escap’dst
Tri. Swom ashore (man) like a Ducke: I can swim like a Ducke i’le be sworne
Ste. Here, kisse the Booke.
Though thou canst swim like a Ducke, thou art made like a Goose
Tri. O Stephano, ha’st any more of this?
Ste. The whole But (man) my Cellar is in a rocke by th’ sea-side, where my Wine is hid:
How now Moone-Calfe, how do’s thine Ague?
Cal. Ha’st thou not dropt from heauen?
Ste. Out o’th Moone I doe assure thee. I was the Man ith’ Moone, when time was
Cal. I haue seene thee in her: and I doe adore thee: My Mistris shew’d me thee, and thy Dog, and thy Bush
Ste. Come, sweare to that: kisse the Booke: I will furnish it anon with new Contents: Sweare
Tri. By this good light, this is a very shallow Monster: I afeard of him? a very weake Monster:
The Man ith’ Moone?
A most poore creadulous Monster:
Well drawne Monster, in good sooth
Cal. Ile shew thee euery fertill ynch o’th Island: and I will kisse thy foote: I prethee be my god
Tri. By this light, a most perfidious, and drunken Monster, when’s god’s a sleepe he’ll rob his Bottle
Cal. Ile kisse thy foot, Ile sweare my selfe thy Subiect
Ste. Come on then: downe and sweare
Tri. I shall laugh my selfe to death at this puppi-headed Monster: a most scuruie Monster: I could finde in my heart to beate him
Ste. Come, kisse
Tri. But that the poore Monster’s in drinke: An abhominable Monster
Cal. I’le shew thee the best Springs: I’le plucke thee Berries: I’le fish for thee; and get thee wood enough. A plague vpon the Tyrant that I serue;
I’le beare him no more Stickes, but follow thee, thou wondrous man
Tri. A most rediculous Monster, to make a wonder of a poore drunkard
Cal. I ‘prethee let me bring thee where Crabs grow; and I with my long nayles will digge thee pig-nuts; show thee a Iayes nest, and instruct thee how to snare the nimble Marmazet: I’le bring thee to clustring Philbirts, and sometimes I’le get thee young Scamels from the Rocke: Wilt thou goe with me?
Ste. I pre’thee now lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the King, and all our company else being dround, wee will inherit here: Here; beare my Bottle: Fellow Trinculo; we’ll fill him by and by againe.
Caliban Sings drunkenly.
Farewell Master; farewell, farewell
Tri. A howling Monster: a drunken Monster
Cal. No more dams I’le make for fish, Nor fetch in firing, at requiring,
Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish, Ban’ ban’ Cacalyban
Has a new Master, get a new Man.
Freedome, high-day, high-day freedome, freedome highday, freedome
Ste. O braue Monster; lead the way.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.
Enter Ferdinand (bearing a Log.)
Fer. There be some Sports are painfull; & their labor Delight in them set off: Some kindes of basenesse Are nobly vndergon; and most poore matters Point to rich ends: this my meane Taske
Would be as heauy to me, as odious, but The Mistris which I serue, quickens what’s dead, And makes my labours, pleasures: O She is Ten times more gentle, then her Father’s crabbed; And he’s compos’d of harshnesse. I must remoue Some thousands of these Logs, and pile them vp, Vpon a sore iniunction; my sweet Mistris Weepes when she sees me worke, & saies, such basenes Had neuer like Executor: I forget:
But these sweet thoughts, doe euen refresh my labours, Most busie lest, when I doe it.
Enter Miranda | and Prospero.
Mir. Alas, now pray you
Worke not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt vp those Logs that you are enioynd to pile: Pray set it downe, and rest you: when this burnes ‘Twill weepe for hauing wearied you: my Father Is hard at study; pray now rest your selfe, Hee’s safe for these three houres
Fer. O most deere Mistris
The Sun will set before I shall discharge What I must striue to do
Mir. If you’l sit downe
Ile beare your Logges the while: pray giue me that, Ile carry it to the pile
Fer. No precious Creature,
I had rather cracke my sinewes, breake my backe, Then you should such dishonor vndergoe,
While I sit lazy by
Mir. It would become me
As well as it do’s you; and I should do it With much more ease: for my good will is to it, And yours it is against
Pro. Poore worme thou art infected, This visitation shewes it
Mir. You looke wearily
Fer. No, noble Mistris, ’tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night: I do beseech you Cheefely, that I might set it in my prayers, What is your name?
Mir. Miranda, O my Father,
I haue broke your hest to say so
Fer. Admir’d Miranda,
Indeede the top of Admiration, worth What’s deerest to the world: full many a Lady I haue ey’d with best regard, and many a time Th’ harmony of their tongues, hath into bondage Brought my too diligent eare: for seuerall vertues Haue I lik’d seuerall women, neuer any
With so full soule, but some defect in her Did quarrell with the noblest grace she ow’d, And put it to the foile. But you, O you, So perfect, and so peerlesse, are created Of euerie Creatures best
Mir. I do not know
One of my sexe; no womans face remember, Saue from my glasse, mine owne: Nor haue I seene More that I may call men, then you good friend, And my deere Father: how features are abroad I am skillesse of; but by my modestie
(The iewell in my dower) I would not wish Any Companion in the world but you:
Nor can imagination forme a shape
Besides your selfe, to like of: but I prattle Something too wildely, and my Fathers precepts I therein do forget
Fer. I am, in my condition
A Prince (Miranda) I do thinke a King (I would not so) and would no more endure This wodden slauerie, then to suffer
The flesh-flie blow my mouth: heare my soule speake. The verie instant that I saw you, did
My heart flie to your seruice, there resides To make me slaue to it, and for your sake Am I this patient Logge-man
Mir. Do you loue me?
Fer. O heauen; O earth, beare witnes to this sound, And crowne what I professe with kinde euent If I speake true: if hollowly, inuert
What best is boaded me, to mischiefe: I, Beyond all limit of what else i’th world Do loue, prize, honor you
Mir. I am a foole
To weepe at what I am glad of
Pro. Faire encounter
Of two most rare affections: heauens raine grace On that which breeds betweene ’em
Fer. Wherefore weepe you?
Mir. At mine vnworthinesse, that dare not offer What I desire to giue; and much lesse take What I shall die to want: But this is trifling, And all the more it seekes to hide it selfe, The bigger bulke it shewes. Hence bashfull cunning, And prompt me plaine and holy innocence. I am your wife, if you will marrie me;
If not, Ile die your maid: to be your fellow You may denie me, but Ile be your seruant Whether you will or no
Fer. My Mistris (deerest)
And I thus humble euer
Mir. My husband then?
Fer. I, with a heart as willing
As bondage ere of freedome: heere’s my hand
Mir. And mine, with my heart in’t; and now farewel Till halfe an houre hence
Fer. A thousand, thousand.
Exeunt.
Pro. So glad of this as they I cannot be, Who are surpriz’d with all; but my reioycing At nothing can be more: Ile to my booke, For yet ere supper time, must I performe Much businesse appertaining.
Enter.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo.
Ste. Tell not me, when the But is out we will drinke water, not a drop before; therefore beare vp, & boord em’ Seruant Monster, drinke to me
Trin. Seruant Monster? the folly of this Iland, they say there’s but fiue vpon this Isle; we are three of them, if th’ other two be brain’d like vs, the State totters
Ste. Drinke seruant Monster when I bid thee, thy eies are almost set in thy head
Trin. Where should they bee set else? hee were a braue Monster indeede if they were set in his taile
Ste. My man-Monster hath drown’d his tongue in sacke: for my part the Sea cannot drowne mee, I swam ere I could recouer the shore, fiue and thirtie Leagues off and on, by this light thou shalt bee my Lieutenant Monster, or my Standard
Trin. Your Lieutenant if you list, hee’s no standard
Ste. Weel not run Monsieur Monster
Trin. Nor go neither: but you’l lie like dogs, and yet say nothing neither
Ste. Moone-calfe, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good Moone-calfe
Cal. How does thy honour? Let me licke thy shooe: Ile not serue him, he is not valiant
Trin. Thou liest most ignorant Monster, I am in case to iustle a Constable: why, thou debosh’d Fish thou, was there euer man a Coward, that hath drunk so much Sacke as I to day? wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but halfe a Fish, and halfe a Monster?
Cal. Loe, how he mockes me, wilt thou let him my Lord?
Trin. Lord, quoth he? that a Monster should be such a Naturall?
Cal. Loe, loe againe: bite him to death I prethee
Ste. Trinculo, keepe a good tongue in your head: If you proue a mutineere, the next Tree: the poore Monster’s my subiect, and he shall not suffer indignity
Cal. I thanke my noble Lord. Wilt thou be pleas’d to hearken once againe to the suite I made to thee?
Ste. Marry will I: kneele, and repeate it, I will stand, and so shall Trinculo.
Enter Ariell inuisible.
Cal. As I told thee before, I am subiect to a Tirant, A Sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me Of the Island
Ariell. Thou lyest
Cal. Thou lyest, thou iesting Monkey thou: I would my valiant Master would destroy thee. I do not lye
Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in’s tale, By this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth
Trin. Why, I said nothing
Ste. Mum then, and no more: proceed
Cal. I say by Sorcery he got this Isle From me, he got it. If thy Greatnesse will Reuenge it on him, (for I know thou dar’st) But this Thing dare not
Ste. That’s most certaine
Cal. Thou shalt be Lord of it, and Ile serue thee
Ste. How now shall this be compast? Canst thou bring me to the party?
Cal. Yea, yea my Lord, Ile yeeld him thee asleepe, Where thou maist knocke a naile into his head
Ariell. Thou liest, thou canst not
Cal. What a py’de Ninnie’s this? Thou scuruy patch: I do beseech thy Greatnesse giue him blowes, And take his bottle from him: When that’s gone, He shall drinke nought but brine, for Ile not shew him Where the quicke Freshes are
Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger: Interrupt the Monster one word further, and by this hand, Ile turne my mercie out o’ doores, and make a Stockfish of thee
Trin. Why, what did I? I did nothing: Ile go farther off
Ste. Didst thou not say he lyed?
Ariell. Thou liest
Ste. Do I so? Take thou that,
As you like this, giue me the lye another time
Trin. I did not giue the lie: Out o’your wittes, and hearing too?
A pox o’your bottle, this can Sacke and drinking doo: A murren on your Monster, and the diuell take your fingers
Cal. Ha, ha, ha
Ste. Now forward with your Tale: prethee stand further off
Cal. Beate him enough: after a little time