Page images
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

cramps,

S de-stiches, that shall pen thy breath up; urchins1 Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd

As thick as noney-combs, each pinch more stinging

Than bees that made them.

Cal.
I must eat my dinner.
This island's mine, by Sycorax, my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest first,
Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me;
would'st 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' the 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 of the island.

Pro.
Thou most lying slave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness; I have

us'd thee,

Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodg'd thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child.

Cal. O ho, O ho!-'would it had been done! Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans.

Pro. Abhorred slave; 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 rid2 you, For learning me your language! Pro. Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou were 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.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

The strain of strutting chanticlere,
Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo.

Fer. Where should this music be? i' the air, o!

[blocks in formation]

I might call him

A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,
And strays about to find them.
Mira.
A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

Pro. It goes on, [Aside. As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Within two days for this.

Fer. 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?

Mira. But, certainly a maid.

Fer.

No wonder, sir;

I am the best of them that speak this speech,

My language? heavens

How! the best?

Were I but where 'tis spoken.

Pro.

What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee?

(1) Fairies.

(2) Destroy.

[blocks in formation]

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 it were fit to do 't. At the first sight

[Aside.

They have chang'd eyes :-Delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this!-A word, good sir;
I fear, you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that ere I saw; the first
That ere I sigh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!
O, if a virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The queen of Naples.
Pro.

Fer.

[blocks in formation]

Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.
Fer.

obey: [To Ferd

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, or 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' the 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 Mira,
[To Ariel.
Hark, what thou else shalt do me.
Mira.
Be of comfort,

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
points of my command.

Soft, sir; one word more.-All They are both in either's powers: but this swift business

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Aside.
Make the prize light.-One word more; I charge

thee,

That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp The name thou ow'st not: and hast put thyself Upon this island, as a spy, to win it

From me, the lord on't."

No, as I am a man.

Fer. Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such temple:

Pro.

a

If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with 't.
Follow me.- [To Ferd.
Speak not you for him; he's a traitor.-Come,
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:
Sea-water shalt thou drink, thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks,
Wherein the acorn cradíed. Follow.

Fer.

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

No;

[He draws.

Mira. O dear father, Make not too rash a trial of him, for He's gentle, and not fearful.2

Pro.

What, I say,

My foot my tutor!-Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy

[blocks in formation]

Ari.

To the syllable. Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt.

[blocks in formation]

Gon. Sir.

Seb. One-Tell.

[blocks in formation]

you should.

Gon. Therefore, my lord,

Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue Alon. I pr'ythee, spare.

Gon. Well, I have done: but yet

Seb. He will be talking.

[blocks in formation]

Seb. Ha, ha, ha!

Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against

Ant. So, you've pay'd.

Seb. Yet,

Adr. Yet

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,- The stomach of my sense: 'would I had never

Ant. He could not miss it.

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,

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
delicate temperance.1
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee!

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

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.

Fran.

Sir, he may live;
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him: his bold
head

'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke

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

green!

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.

As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt,
He came alive to land.

Alon.

No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss;

Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is, indeed, al-That would not bless our Europe with your daugh. most beyond credit-)

Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are.

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

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

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

of Tunis.

[blocks in formation]

Ant. Widow? a pox o' that! how came that los in Widow Dido!

S. What if he had said, widower Eneas too? od led, how you take it!

A. Widow Dido, said you? you make me
udy of thet: he 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

it ?

Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pcket, and give it his son for an apple.

[blocks in formation]

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

Seb.

Foul weather?
Ant.
Very foul.
Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,-
Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.
Seb.
Or docks, or mallows.
Gon. And were the king of it, 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, Would I admit; no name of magistrate; bring forth more islands.

Gon. Av?

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; no use of service,
Of riches or of poverty; no contracts,
Successions; 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.
And yet he would be king on't.
Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth for

Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first gets the beginning.

day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.4 Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.

Gon. All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,'

(1) Temperature. (2) Rank. (5) Shade of colour.

(4) Degree or quality. (5) The rack.

Seb.

Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Whiles thou art waking.
Of its own kind, all foizon,' all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

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!

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.

Do 30: to eta

Ant. Long live Gonzalo! Gon. And, do you mark me, sir?- Hereditary sloth instructs me. Ant. 0, Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: Thou dost talk nothing to me. If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed. of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always Most often do so near the bottom run, use to laugh at nothing. By their own fear, or sloth. Seb.

Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

Ant. What a blow was there given: Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long. Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.

Enter Ariel, invisible, 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,

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,)
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.

[blocks in formation]

Will you grant, with

He's gone.

Then, tell me,

Claribel.

Who's the next heir of Naples?
Seb.
Ant. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwell,
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, from whom
We were all sea-swallowed, though some cast again,
And, by that, destin'd to perform an act,
Whereof what's past is prologue: what 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.

Will guard your person, while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
Alon.
Thank you: wondrous heavy.
[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel.
Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.
Seb.
Why
Doth it not then our eye-lids sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.
Ant.
Nor I; my spirits are nimble. Ant.
A space whose every cubit
They fell together all, as by consent;
Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke.
Measure us back to Naples ?-Keep in Tunis,
Worthy Sebastian?-O, what might ?-No more:-And let Sebastian wake!-Say, this were death
And yet methinks, I see it in thy face,
That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no
What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee;
and

My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
Seb.

What might,

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

worse

Than now they are: there be, that can rule Na
ples,

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

(1) Plenty.

(2) A bird of the jack-daw kind.

You did supplant your brother Prospero.

Ant.

For my poor son.

True:

And look, how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before: my brother's servants
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.

Seb. But, for your conscience

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kibe,
"Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not
This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they,
And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon,

If he were that which now he's like; whom I,
With this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed forever: 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. Re-enter Ariel, invisible.
Ari. My master through his art foresees the
danger

That these, his friends, are in; and sends me forth,
(For else his project dies,) to keep them living.
[Sings in Gonzalo's ear.

While you here do snoring lie,
Open-ey'd Conspiracy

His time doth take:

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

Awake! awake!

Ant. Then let us both be sudden.
Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king!
[They wake.
Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you
drawn?
Wherefore this 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, sír, I heard a hum-

ming,

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: 'best stand upon our guard;
Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.
Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make fur-
ther search

[blocks in formation]

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

Alon.

Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have

done:

So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.

[Aside. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Another part of the Island. Enter Caliban, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard.

Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him

By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark,
Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Out of my way, unless he bid them; but
For every trifle are they set upon me:
Sometimes like apes, that moe3 and chatter at me,
And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
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, would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard that yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by paildid before, I know not where to hide my head: fuls.-What have we here? a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor John. A strange fish! Were I in England now, (as once I was,) and had 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 thunderbolt. [Thunder.] Alas! the storm is come again: my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past.

Enter Stephano, singing; a bottle in his hand
Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die ashore ;-

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral
Well, here's my comfort.
[Drinks
The master, the swabber, the boastswain, 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:

(4) A black jack of leather, to hold beer.
(5) The frock of a peasant.

« PreviousContinue »