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. Water with berries in't; and teach me how Cursed be I that did so!-All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! Pro. 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. The strain of strutting chanticlere, Fer. Where should this music be? i' the air, o! I might call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, 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. Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders And his brave son, being twain. 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, Fer. Thy nerves are in their infancy again, obey: [To Ferd So they are. My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's of a better nature, sir, 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. 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, 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; Ari. To the syllable. Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt. Gon. Sir. Seb. One-Tell. 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. 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, Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life. Seb. Of that there's none, or little. Fran. Sir, he may live; 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd 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, 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. 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 Gon. I assure you, Carthage. Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. it ? Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pcket, and give it his son for an apple. Ant. And most chirurgeonly. Seb. Foul weather? 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, Seb. 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. Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects? Seb. 'Save his majesty! Thou dost snore distinctly. Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you 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. Please you, sir, Ant. We two, my lord, Pr'ythee, say on Ant. Ant. O, out of that no hope, Will you grant, with He's gone. Then, tell me, Claribel. Who's the next heir of Naples? Will guard your person, while you take your rest, My strong imagination sees a crown What might, What, art thou waking? I do; and, surely, Ant, Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st worse Than now they are: there be, that can rule Na As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate As this Gonzalo; I myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore (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; Seb. But, for your conscience Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kibe, If he were that which now he's like; whom I, Seb. Thy case, dear friend, Ant. Draw together: O, but one word. That these, his friends, are in; and sends me forth, While you here do snoring lie, His time doth take: If of life you keep a care, Awake! awake! Ant. Then let us both be sudden. Alon. ming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me: Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! 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, Enter Trinculo. Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment 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 This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral (4) A black jack of leather, to hold beer. |