The Complete Works of William ShakespearePart 52 out of 63
VINCENTIO. Where is that damned villain, Tranio, That fac'd and brav'd me in this matter so? BAPTISTA. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio? BIANCA. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio. LUCENTIO. Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love Made me exchange my state with Tranio, While he did bear my countenance in the town; And happily I have arrived at the last Unto the wished haven of my bliss. What Tranio did, myself enforc'd him to; Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake. VINCENTIO. I'll slit the villain's nose that would have sent me to the gaol. BAPTISTA. [To LUCENTIO] But do you hear, sir? Have you married my daughter without asking my good will? VINCENTIO. Fear not, Baptista; we will content you, go to; but I will in to be revenged for this villainy. Exit BAPTISTA. And I to sound the depth of this knavery. Exit LUCENTIO. Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown. Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA GREMIO. My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest; Out of hope of all but my share of the feast. Exit KATHERINA. Husband, let's follow to see the end of this ado. PETRUCHIO. First kiss me, Kate, and we will. KATHERINA. What, in the midst of the street? PETRUCHIO. What, art thou asham'd of me? KATHERINA. No, sir; God forbid; but asham'd to kiss. PETRUCHIO. Why, then, let's home again. Come, sirrah, let's away. KATHERINA. Nay, I will give thee a kiss; now pray thee, love, stay. PETRUCHIO. Is not this well? Come, my sweet Kate: Better once than never, for never too late. Exeunt SCENE II. LUCENTIO'S house Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the PEDANT, LUCENTIO, BIANCA, PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, HORTENSIO, and WIDOW. The SERVINGMEN with TRANIO, BIONDELLO, and GRUMIO, bringing in a banquet LUCENTIO. At last, though long, our jarring notes agree; And time it is when raging war is done To smile at scapes and perils overblown. My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome, While I with self-same kindness welcome thine. Brother Petruchio, sister Katherina, And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, Feast with the best, and welcome to my house. My banquet is to close our stomachs up After our great good cheer. Pray you, sit down; For now we sit to chat as well as eat. [They sit] PETRUCHIO. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat! BAPTISTA. Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio. PETRUCHIO. Padua affords nothing but what is kind. HORTENSIO. For both our sakes I would that word were true. PETRUCHIO. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow. WIDOW. Then never trust me if I be afeard. PETRUCHIO. YOU are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense: I mean Hortensio is afeard of you. WIDOW. He that is giddy thinks the world turns round. PETRUCHIO. Roundly replied. KATHERINA. Mistress, how mean you that? WIDOW. Thus I conceive by him. PETRUCHIO. Conceives by me! How likes Hortensio that? HORTENSIO. My widow says thus she conceives her tale. PETRUCHIO. Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow. KATHERINA. 'He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.' I pray you tell me what you meant by that. WIDOW. Your husband, being troubled with a shrew, Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe; And now you know my meaning. KATHERINA. A very mean meaning. WIDOW. Right, I mean you. KATHERINA. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you. PETRUCHIO. To her, Kate! HORTENSIO. To her, widow! PETRUCHIO. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. HORTENSIO. That's my office. PETRUCHIO. Spoke like an officer- ha' to thee, lad. [Drinks to HORTENSIO] BAPTISTA. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? GREMIO. Believe me, sir, they butt together well. BIANCA. Head and butt! An hasty-witted body Would say your head and butt were head and horn. VINCENTIO. Ay, mistress bride, hath that awakened you? BIANCA. Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll sleep again. PETRUCHIO. Nay, that you shall not; since you have begun, Have at you for a bitter jest or two. BIANCA. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush, And then pursue me as you draw your bow. You are welcome all. Exeunt BIANCA, KATHERINA, and WIDOW PETRUCHIO. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio, This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not; Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd. TRANIO. O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound, Which runs himself, and catches for his master. PETRUCHIO. A good swift simile, but something currish. TRANIO. 'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself; 'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay. BAPTISTA. O, O, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now. LUCENTIO. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. HORTENSIO. Confess, confess; hath he not hit you here? PETRUCHIO. 'A has a little gall'd me, I confess; And, as the jest did glance away from me, 'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright. BAPTISTA. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. PETRUCHIO. Well, I say no; and therefore, for assurance, Let's each one send unto his wife, And he whose wife is most obedient, To come at first when he doth send for her, Shall win the wager which we will propose. HORTENSIO. Content. What's the wager? LUCENTIO. Twenty crowns. PETRUCHIO. Twenty crowns? I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound, But twenty times so much upon my wife. LUCENTIO. A hundred then. HORTENSIO. Content. PETRUCHIO. A match! 'tis done. HORTENSIO. Who shall begin? LUCENTIO. That will I. Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. BIONDELLO. I go. Exit BAPTISTA. Son, I'll be your half Bianca comes. LUCENTIO. I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself. Re-enter BIONDELLO How now! what news? BIONDELLO. Sir, my mistress sends you word That she is busy and she cannot come. PETRUCHIO. How! She's busy, and she cannot come! Is that an answer? GREMIO. Ay, and a kind one too. Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. PETRUCHIO. I hope better. HORTENSIO. Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife To come to me forthwith. Exit BIONDELLO PETRUCHIO. O, ho! entreat her! Nay, then she must needs come. HORTENSIO. I am afraid, sir, Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. Re-enter BIONDELLO Now, where's my wife? BIONDELLO. She says you have some goodly jest in hand: She will not come; she bids you come to her. PETRUCHIO. Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile, Intolerable, not to be endur'd! Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress; Say I command her come to me. Exit GRUMIO HORTENSIO. I know her answer. PETRUCHIO. What? HORTENSIO. She will not. PETRUCHIO. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. Re-enter KATHERINA BAPTISTA. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katherina! KATHERINA. What is your sir, that you send for me? PETRUCHIO. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife? KATHERINA. They sit conferring by the parlour fire. PETRUCHIO. Go, fetch them hither; if they deny to come. Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands. Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. Exit KATHERINA LUCENTIO. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. HORTENSIO. And so it is. I wonder what it bodes. PETRUCHIO. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life, An awful rule, and right supremacy; And, to be short, what not that's sweet and happy. BAPTISTA. Now fair befall thee, good Petruchio! The wager thou hast won; and I will ad Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns; Another dowry to another daughter, For she is chang'd, as she had never been. PETRUCHIO. Nay, I will win my wager better yet, And show more sign of her obedience, Her new-built virtue and obedience. Re-enter KATHERINA with BIANCA and WIDOW See where she comes, and brings your froward wives As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. Katherine, that cap of yours becomes you not: Off with that bauble, throw it underfoot. [KATHERINA complies] WIDOW. Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh Till I be brought to such a silly pass! BIANCA. Fie! what a foolish duty call you this? LUCENTIO. I would your duty were as foolish too; The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, Hath cost me a hundred crowns since supper-time! BIANCA. The more fool you for laying on my duty. PETRUCHIO. Katherine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. WIDOW. Come, come, you're mocking; we will have no telling. PETRUCHIO. Come on, I say; and first begin with her. WIDOW. She shall not. PETRUCHIO. I say she shall. And first begin with her. KATHERINA. Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow, And dart not scornful glances from those eyes To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor. It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, And in no sense is meet or amiable. A woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled- Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it. Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance commits his body To painful labour both by sea and land, To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; And craves no other tribute at thy hands But love, fair looks, and true obedience- Too little payment for so great a debt. Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband; And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour, And not obedient to his honest will, What is she but a foul contending rebel And graceless traitor to her loving lord? I am asham'd that women are so simple To offer war where they should kneel for peace; Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth, Unapt to toll and trouble in the world, But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts? Come, come, you froward and unable worins! My mind hath been as big as one of yours, My heart as great, my reason haply more, To bandy word for word and frown for frown; But now I see our lances are but straws, Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare, That seeming to be most which we indeed least are. Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot, And place your hands below your husband's foot; In token of which duty, if he please, My hand is ready, may it do him ease. PETRUCHIO. Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate. LUCENTIO. Well, go thy ways, old lad, for thou shalt ha't. VINCENTIO. 'Tis a good hearing when children are toward. LUCENTIO. But a harsh hearing when women are froward. PETRUCHIO. Come, Kate, we'll to bed. We three are married, but you two are sped. [To LUCENTIO] 'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white; And being a winner, God give you good night! Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHERINA HORTENSIO. Now go thy ways; thou hast tam'd a curst shrow. LUCENTIO. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam'd so. Exeunt THE END < PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF ILLINOIS BENEDICTINE COLLEGE WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> 1612 THE TEMPEST by William Shakespeare DRAMATIS PERSONAE ALONSO, King of Naples SEBASTIAN, his brother PROSPERO, the right Duke of Milan ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples GONZALO, an honest old counsellor Lords ADRIAN FRANCISCO CALIBAN, a savage and deformed slave TRINCULO, a jester STEPHANO, a drunken butler MASTER OF A SHIP BOATSWAIN MARINERS MIRANDA, daughter to Prospero ARIEL, an airy spirit Spirits IRIS CERES JUNO NYMPHS REAPERS Other Spirits attending on Prospero < PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF ILLINOIS BENEDICTINE COLLEGE WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> SCENE: A ship at sea; afterwards an uninhabited island THE TEMPEST ACT I. SCENE 1 On a ship at sea; a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard Enter a SHIPMASTER and a BOATSWAIN MASTER. Boatswain! BOATSWAIN. Here, master; what cheer? MASTER. Good! Speak to th' mariners; fall to't yarely, or we run ourselves aground; bestir, bestir. Exit Enter MARINERS BOATSWAIN. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to th' master's whistle. Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough. Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND GONZALO, and OTHERS ALONSO. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master? Play the men. BOATSWAIN. I pray now, keep below. ANTONIO. Where is the master, boson? BOATSWAIN. Do you not hear him? You mar our labour; keep your cabins; you do assist the storm. GONZALO. Nay, good, be patient. BOATSWAIN. When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers for the name of king? To cabin! silence! Trouble us not. GONZALO. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard. BOATSWAIN. None that I more love than myself. You are counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more. Use your authority; if you cannot, give thanks you have liv'd so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap.-Cheerly, good hearts!-Out of our way, I say. Exit GONZALO. I have great comfort from this fellow. Methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging; make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage. If he be not born to be hang'd, our case is miserable. Exeunt Re-enter BOATSWAIN BOATSWAIN. Down with the topmast. Yare, lower, lower! Bring her to try wi' th' maincourse. [A cry within] A plague upon this howling! They are louder than the weather or our office. Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO Yet again! What do you here? Shall we give o'er, and drown? Have you a mind to sink? SEBASTIAN. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog! BOATSWAIN. Work you, then. ANTONIO. Hang, cur; hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker; we are less afraid to be drown'd than thou art. GONZALO. I'll warrant him for drowning, though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched wench. BOATSWAIN. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; set her two courses; off to sea again; lay her off. Enter MARINERS, Wet MARINERS. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! Exeunt BOATSWAIN. What, must our mouths be cold? GONZALO. The King and Prince at prayers! Let's assist them, For our case is as theirs. SEBASTIAN. I am out of patience. ANTONIO. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards. This wide-chopp'd rascal-would thou mightst lie drowning The washing of ten tides! GONZALO. He'll be hang'd yet, Though every drop of water swear against it, And gape at wid'st to glut him. [A confused noise within: Mercy on us! We split, we split! Farewell, my wife and children! Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we split!] ANTONIO. Let's all sink wi' th' King. SEBASTIAN. Let's take leave of him. Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN GONZALO. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground-long heath, brown furze, any thing. The wills above be done, but I would fain die dry death. Exeunt SCENE 2 The Island. Before PROSPERO'S cell Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA MIRANDA. If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, Dash'd all to pieces! O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perish'd. Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere It should the good ship so have swallow'd and The fraughting souls within her. PROSPERO. Be conected; No more amazement; tell your piteous heart There's no harm done. MIRANDA. O, woe the day! PROSPERO. No harm. I have done nothing but in care of thee, Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing Of whence I am, nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father. MIRANDA. More to know Did never meddle with my thoughts. PROSPERO. 'Tis time I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, And pluck my magic garment from me. So, [Lays down his mantle] Lie there my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such provision in mine art So safely ordered that there is no soul- No, not so much perdition as an hair Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down, for thou must now know farther. MIRANDA. You have often Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd, And left me to a bootless inquisition, Concluding 'Stay; not yet.' PROSPERO. The hour's now come; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear. Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time before we came unto this cell? I do not think thou canst; for then thou wast not Out three years old. MIRANDA. Certainly, sir, I can. PROSPERO. By what? By any other house, or person? Of any thing the image, tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance? MIRANDA. 'Tis far off, And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants. Had I not Four, or five, women once, that tended me? PROSPERO. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? If thou rememb'rest aught, ere thou cam'st here, How thou cam'st here thou mayst. MIRANDA. But that I do not. PROSPERO. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and A prince of power. MIRANDA. Sir, are not you my father? PROSPERO. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir And princess no worse issued. MIRANDA. O, the heavens! What foul play had we that we came from thence? Or blessed was't we did? PROSPERO. Both, both, my girl. By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence; But blessedly holp hither. MIRANDA. O, my heart bleeds To think o' th' teen that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther. PROSPERO. My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio- I pray thee, mark me that a brother should Be so perfidious. He, whom next thyself Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put The manage 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 liberal arts Without a parallel, those being all my study- The government I cast upon my brother And to my state grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle- Dost thou attend me? MIRANDA. Sir, most heedfully. PROSPERO. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, who t' advance, and who To trash for over-topping, new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em, Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts i' th' state To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was The ivy which had hid my princely trunk And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not. MIRANDA. O, good sir, I do! PROSPERO. I pray thee, mark me. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness and the bettering of my mind With that which, but by being so retir'd, O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother Awak'd an evil nature; and my trust, Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood, in its contrary as great As my trust was; which had indeed no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded, Not only with what my revenue yielded, But what my power might else exact, like one Who having into truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie-he did believe He was indeed the Duke; out o' th' substitution, And executing th' outward face of royalty With all prerogative. Hence his ambition growing- Dost thou hear? MIRANDA. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. PROSPERO. To have no screen between this part he play'd And him he play'd it for, he needs will be Absolute Milan. Me, poor man-my library Was dukedom large enough-of temporal royalties He thinks me now incapable; confederates, So dry he was for sway, wi' th' King of Naples, To give him annual tribute, do him homage, Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend The dukedom, yet unbow'd-alas, poor Milan!- To most ignoble stooping. MIRANDA. O the heavens! PROSPERO. Mark his condition, and th' event, then tell me If this might be a brother. MIRANDA. I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons. PROSPERO. Now the condition: This King of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's 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 dukedom, and confer fair Milan With all the honours on my brother. Whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to th' purpose, did Antonio open The gates of Milan; and, i' th' dead of darkness, The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self. MIRANDA. Alack, for pity! I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then, Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint That wrings mine eyes to't. PROSPERO. Hear a little further, And then I'll bring thee to the present busines Which now's upon 's; without the which this story Were most impertinent. MIRANDA. Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us? PROSPERO. Well demanded, wench! My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, So dear the love my people bore me; nor set A mark so bloody on the business; but With colours fairer painted their foul ends. In few, they hurried us aboard a bark; Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us, To cry to th' sea, that roar'd to us; to sigh To th' winds, whose pity, sighing back again, Did us but loving wrong. MIRANDA. Alack, what trouble Was I then to you! PROSPERO. O, a cherubin Thou wast that did preserve me! Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue. MIRANDA. How came we ashore? PROSPERO. By Providence divine. Some food we had and some fresh water that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity, who being then appointed Master of this design, did give us, with Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness, Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. MIRANDA. Would I might But ever see that man! PROSPERO. Now I arise. [Puts on his mantle] Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arriv'd; and here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princess' can, that have more time For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. MIRANDA. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir, For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason For raising this sea-storm? PROSPERO. Know thus far forth: By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies Brought to this shore; and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions; Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dullness, And give it way. I know thou canst not choose. [MIRANDA sleeps] Come away, servant; come; I am ready now. Approach, my Ariel. Come. Enter ARIEL ARIEL. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl'd clouds. To thy strong bidding task Ariel and all his quality. PROSPERO. Hast thou, spirit, Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee? ARIEL. To every article. I boarded the King's ship; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flam'd amazement. Sometime I'd divide, And burn in many places; on the topmast, The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, Then meet and join Jove's lightning, the precursors O' th' dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble, Yea, his dread trident shake. PROSPERO. My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Would not infect his reason? ARIEL. Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, Then all afire with me; the King's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring-then like reeds, not hair- Was the first man that leapt; cried 'Hell is empty, And all the devils are here.' PROSPERO. Why, that's my spirit! But was not this nigh shore? ARIEL. Close by, my master. PROSPERO. But are they, Ariel, safe? ARIEL. Not a hair perish'd; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher than before; and, as thou bad'st me, In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle. The King's son have I landed by himself, Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting, His arms in this sad knot. PROSPERO. Of the King's ship, The mariners, say how thou hast dispos'd, And all the rest o' th' fleet? ARIEL. Safely in harbour Is the King's ship; in the deep nook, where once Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid; The mariners all under hatches stowed, Who, with a charm join'd to their suff'red labour, I have left asleep; and for the rest o' th' fleet, Which I dispers'd, they all have met again, And are upon the Mediterranean flote Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the King's ship wreck'd, And his great person perish. PROSPERO. Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work. What is the time o' th' day? ARIEL. Past the mid season. PROSPERO. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now Must by us both be spent most preciously. ARIEL. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me. PROSPERO. How now, moody? What is't thou canst demand? ARIEL. My liberty. PROSPERO. Before the time be out? No more! ARIEL. I prithee, Remember I have done thee worthy service, Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst promise To bate me a full year. PROSPERO. Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? ARIEL. No. PROSPERO. Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep, To run upon the sharp wind of the north, To do me business in the veins o' th' earth When it is bak'd with frost. ARIEL. I do not, sir. PROSPERO. Thou liest, malignant thing. Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her? ARIEL. No, sir. PROSPERO. Thou hast. Where was she born? Speak; tell me. ARIEL. Sir, in Argier. PROSPERO. O, was she so? I must Once in a month recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier Thou know'st was banish'd; for one thing she did They would not take her life. Is not this true? ARIEL. Ay, sir. PROSPERO. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by th'sailors. Thou, my slave, As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant; And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers, And in her most unmitigable rage, Into a cloven pine; within which rift Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain A dozen years; within which space she died, And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island- Save for the son that she did litter here, A freckl'd whelp, hag-born-not honour'd with A human shape. ARIEL. Yes, Caliban her son. PROSPERO. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st What torment I did find thee in; thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not again undo. It was mine art, When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape The pine, and let thee out. ARIEL. I thank thee, master. PROSPERO. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. ARIEL. Pardon, master; I will be correspondent to command, And do my spriting gently. PROSPERO. Do so; and after two days I will discharge thee. ARIEL. That's my noble master! What shall I do? Say what. What shall I do? PROSPERO. Go make thyself like a nymph o' th' sea; be subject To no sight but thine and mine, invisible To every eyeball else. Go take this shape, And hither come in 't. Go, hence with diligence! Exit ARIEL Awake, dear heart, awake; thou hast slept well; Awake. MIRANDA. The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me. PROSPERO. Shake it off. Come on, We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never Yields us kind answer. MIRANDA. 'Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on. PROSPERO. But as 'tis, We cannot miss him: he does make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices That profit us. What ho! slave! Caliban! Thou earth, thou! Speak. CALIBAN. [ Within] There's wood enough within. PROSPERO. Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee. Come, thou tortoise! when? Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear. ARIEL. My lord, it shall be done. Exit PROSPERO. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! Enter CALIBAN CALIBAN. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen Drop on you both! A south-west blow on ye And blister you all o'er! PROSPERO. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em. CALIBAN. 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 strok'st me and made much of me, wouldst give me Water with berries in't, and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night; and then I lov'd thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile. Curs'd 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. PROSPERO. 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. CALIBAN. O ho, O ho! Would't had been done. Thou didst prevent me; I had peopl'd else This isle with Calibans. MIRANDA. Abhorred slave, Which any print of goodness wilt 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 wouldst 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. CALIBAN. 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! PROSPERO. 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. CALIBAN. No, pray thee. [Aside] I must obey. His art is of such pow'r, It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him. PROSPERO. So, slave; hence! Exit CALIBAN Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing ad singing; FERDINAND following ARIEL'S SONG. Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands; Curtsied when you have and kiss'd, The wild waves whist, Foot it featly here and there, And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Hark, hark! [Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.] The watch dogs bark. [Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.] Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. FERDINAND. Where should this music be? I' th' air or th' earth? It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the King my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air; thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone. No, it begins again. ARIEL'S SONG 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. FERDINAND. The ditty does remember my drown'd father. This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes. I hear it now above me. PROSPERO. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond. MIRANDA. What is't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit. PROSPERO. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest Was in the wreck; and but he's something stain'd With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows, And strays about to find 'em. MIRANDA. I might call him A thing divine; for nothing natural I ever saw so noble. PROSPERO. [Aside] It goes on, I see, As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Within two days for this. FERDINAND. Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my pray'r 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? MIRANDA. No wonder, sir; But certainly a maid. FERDINAND. My language? Heavens! I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken. PROSPERO. How? the best? What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee? FERDINAND. 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, never since at ebb, beheld The King my father wreck'd. MIRANDA. Alack, for mercy! FERDINAND. Yes, faith, and all his lords, the Duke of Milan And his brave son being twain. PROSPERO. [Aside] The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could control thee, If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight They have chang'd eyes. Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this. [To FERDINAND] A word, good sir; I fear you have done yourself some wrong; a word. MIRANDA. Why speaks my father so ungently? This Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first That e'er I sigh'd for. Pity move my father To be inclin'd my way! FERDINAND. O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The Queen of Naples. PROSPERO. Soft, Sir! one word more. [Aside] They are both in either's pow'rs; but this swift busines I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light. [To FERDINAND] 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. FERDINAND. No, as I am a man. MIRANDA. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't. PROSPERO. Follow me. 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 mussels, wither'd roots, and husks Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. FERDINAND. No; I will resist such entertainment till Mine enemy has more power. [He draws, and is charmed from moving] MIRANDA. O dear father, Make not too rash a trial of him, for He's gentle, and not fearful. PROSPERO. What, I say, My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; Who mak'st a show but dar'st not strike, thy conscience Is so possess'd with guilt. Come from thy ward; For I can here disarm thee with this stick And make thy weapon drop. MIRANDA. Beseech you, father! PROSPERO. Hence! Hang not on my garments. MIRANDA. Sir, have pity; I'll be his surety. PROSPERO. Silence! One word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! An advocate for an impostor! hush! Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban. Foolish wench! To th' most of men this is a Caliban, And they to him are angels. MIRANDA. My affections Are then most humble; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man. PROSPERO. Come on; obey. Thy nerves are in their infancy again, And have no vigour in them. FERDINAND. 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 subdu'd, 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. PROSPERO. [Aside] It works. [To FERDINAND] Come on.- Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To FERDINAND] Follow me. [To ARIEL] Hark what thou else shalt do me. MIRANDA. Be of comfort; My father's of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted Which now came from him. PROSPERO. [To ARIEL] Thou shalt be as free As mountain winds; but then exactly do All points of my command. ARIEL. To th' syllable. PROSPERO. [To FERDINAND] Come, follow. [To MIRANDA] Speak not for him. Exeunt < PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF ILLINOIS BENEDICTINE COLLEGE WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> ACT II. SCENE 1 Another part of the island Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and OTHERS GONZALO. 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 masters of some merchant, and the merchant, Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us. Then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort. ALONSO. Prithee, peace. SEBASTIAN. He receives comfort like cold porridge. ANTONIO. The visitor will not give him o'er so. SEBASTIAN. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike. GONZALO. Sir- SEBASTIAN. One-Tell. GONZALO. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, Comes to th' entertainer- SEBASTIAN. A dollar. GONZALO. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you purpos'd. SEBASTIAN. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. GONZALO. Therefore, my lord- ANTONIO. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! ALONSO. I prithee, spare. GONZALO. Well, I have done; but yet- SEBASTIAN. He will be talking. ANTONIO. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow? SEBASTIAN. The old cock. ANTONIO. The cock'rel. SEBASTIAN. Done. The wager? ANTONIO. A laughter. SEBASTIAN. A match! ADRIAN. Though this island seem to be desert- ANTONIO. Ha, ha, ha! SEBASTIAN. So, you're paid. ADRIAN. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible- SEBASTIAN. Yet- ADRIAN. Yet- ANTONIO. He could not miss't. ADRIAN. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance. ANTONIO. Temperance was a delicate wench. SEBASTIAN. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly deliver'd. ADRIAN. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. SEBASTIAN. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. ANTONIO. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a fen. GONZALO. Here is everything advantageous to life. ANTONIO. True; save means to live. SEBASTIAN. Of that there's none, or little. GONZALO. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! ANTONIO. The ground indeed is tawny. SEBASTIAN. With an eye of green in't. ANTONIO. He misses not much. SEBASTIAN. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. GONZALO. But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit- SEBASTIAN. As many vouch'd rarities are. GONZALO. That our garments, being, as they were, drench'd in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dy'd, than stain'd with salt water. ANTONIO. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies? SEBASTIAN. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. GONZALO. 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. SEBASTIAN. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. ADRIAN. Tunis was never grac'd before with such a paragon to their queen. GONZALO. Not since widow Dido's time. ANTONIO. Widow! a pox o' that! How came that 'widow' in? Widow Dido! SEBASTIAN. What if he had said 'widower Aeneas' too? Good Lord, how you take it! ADRIAN. 'Widow Dido' said you? You make me study of that. She was of Carthage, not of Tunis. GONZALO. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. ADRIAN. Carthage? GONZALO. I assure you, Carthage. ANTONIO. His word is more than the miraculous harp. SEBASTIAN. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too. ANTONIO. What impossible matter will he make easy next? SEBASTIAN. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple. ANTONIO. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands. GONZALO. Ay. ANTONIO. Why, in good time. GONZALO. 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. ANTONIO. And the rarest that e'er came there. SEBASTIAN. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. ANTONIO. O, widow Dido! Ay, widow Dido. GONZALO. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. ANTONIO. That 'sort' was well fish'd for. GONZALO. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? ALONSO. 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 removed 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? FRANCISCO. 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 oared Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To th' shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed, As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt He came alive to land. ALONSO. No, no, he's gone. SEBASTIAN. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss, That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an African; Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the grief on't. ALONSO. Prithee, peace. SEBASTIAN. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise By all of us; and the fair soul herself Weigh'd between loathness and obedience at Which end o' th' beam should bow. We have lost your son, I fear, for ever. Milan and Naples have Moe widows in them of this business' making, Than we bring men to comfort them; The fault's your own. ALONSO. So is the dear'st o' th' loss. GONZALO. 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. SEBASTIAN. Very well. ANTONIO. And most chirurgeonly. GONZALO. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. SEBASTIAN. Foul weather? ANTONIO. Very foul. GONZALO. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord- ANTONIO. He'd sow 't with nettle-seed. SEBASTIAN. Or docks, or mallows. GONZALO. And were the king on't, what would I do? SEBASTIAN. Scape being drunk for want of wine. GONZALO. I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; 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- SEBASTIAN. Yet he would be king on't. ANTONIO. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. GONZALO. 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 it own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people. SEBASTIAN. No marrying 'mong his subjects? ANTONIO. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. GONZALO. I would with such perfection govern, sir, T' excel the golden age. SEBASTIAN. Save his Majesty! ANTONIO. Long live Gonzalo! GONZALO. And-do you mark me, sir? ALONSO. Prithee, no more; thou dost talk nothing to me. GONZALO. 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. ANTONIO. 'Twas you we laugh'd at. GONZALO. Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. ANTONIO. What a blow was there given! SEBASTIAN. An it had not fall'n flat-long. GONZALO. 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 SEBASTIAN. We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling. ANTONIO. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. GONZALO. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy? ANTONIO. Go sleep, and hear us. [All sleep but ALONSO, SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO] ALONSO. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts; I find They are inclin'd to do so. SEBASTIAN. Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter. ANTONIO. We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, And watch your safety. ALONSO. Thank you-wondrous heavy! [ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL] SEBASTIAN. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! ANTONIO. It is the quality o' th' climate. SEBASTIAN. Why Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not Myself dispos'd to sleep. ANTONIO. 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, What thou shouldst be; th' occasion speaks thee; and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head. SEBASTIAN. What, art thou waking? ANTONIO. Do you not hear me speak? SEBASTIAN. 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. ANTONIO. Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. SEBASTIAN. Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores. ANTONIO. I am more serious than my custom; you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o'er. SEBASTIAN. Well, I am standing water. ANTONIO. I'll teach you how to flow. SEBASTIAN. Do so: to ebb, Hereditary sloth instructs me. ANTONIO. O, 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. SEBASTIAN. Prithee say on. The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throes thee much to yield. ANTONIO. 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. SEBASTIAN. I have no hope That he's undrown'd. ANTONIO. 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 doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown'd? SEBASTIAN. He's gone. ANTONIO. Then tell me, Who's the next heir of Naples? SEBASTIAN. Claribel. ANTONIO. 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' th' Moon's too slow, till newborn chins Be rough and razorable; she that from 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 to come In yours and my discharge. SEBASTIAN. 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. ANTONIO. A space whose ev'ry cubit Seems 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 seiz'd 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? SEBASTIAN. Methinks I do. ANTONIO. And how does your content Tender your own good fortune? SEBASTIAN. I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero. ANTONIO. 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. SEBASTIAN. But, for your conscience- ANTONIO. Ay, sir; where lies that? If 'twere 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-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. SEBASTIAN. 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 payest; And I the King shall love thee. ANTONIO. Draw together; And when I rear my hand, do you the like, To fall it on Gonzalo. SEBASTIAN. O, but one word. [They talk apart] Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, with music and song ARIEL. 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 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! ANTONIO. Then let us both be sudden. GONZALO. Now, good angels Preserve the King! [They wake] ALONSO. Why, how now?-Ho, awake!-Why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking? GONZALO. What's the matter? SEBASTIAN. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions; did't not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly. ALONSO. I heard nothing. ANTONIO. 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. ALONSO. Heard you this, Gonzalo? GONZALO. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me; I shak'd you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn-there was a noise, That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place. Let's draw our weapons. ALONSO. Lead off this ground; and let's make further search For my poor son. GONZALO. Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' th' island. ALONSO. Lead away. ARIEL. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done; So, King, go safely on to seek thy son. Exeunt SCENE 2 Another part of the island Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard CALIBAN. 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, Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' th' mire, Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but For every trifle are they set upon me; Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me, And after bite me; then like hedgehogs which Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues Do hiss me into madness. Enter TRINCULO Lo, now, lo! 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. TRINCULO. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' th' 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? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; 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 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 STEPHANO. 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 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'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] CALIBAN. Do not torment me. O! STEPHANO. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon 's with savages and men of Ind? 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. CALIBAN. The spirit torments me. O! STEPHANO. 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 him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's leather. CALIBAN. Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood home faster. STEPHANO. He's in his fit now, and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle; if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him; he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly. CALIBAN. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling; now Prosper works upon thee. STEPHANO. Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that which will give 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 again. TRINCULO. I should know that voice; it should be-but he is drown'd; and these are devils. O, defend me! STEPHANO. Four legs and two voices; a most delicate monster! His forward voice, now, is to speak well of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. Come-Amen! I will pour some in thy other mouth. TRINCULO. Stephano! STEPHANO. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is a devil, and no monster; I will leave him; I have no long spoon. TRINCULO. Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo-be not afeard-thy good friend Trinculo. STEPHANO. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth; I'll pull the by the lesser legs; if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos? TRINCULO. I took him to be kill'd with a thunderstroke. But art thou not drown'd, Stephano? I hope now thou are not drown'd. Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans scap'd! STEPHANO. Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant. CALIBAN. [Aside] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites. That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor. I will kneel to him. STEPHANO. How didst thou scape? How cam'st thou hither? Swear by this bottle how thou cam'st hither-I escap'd upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved o'erboard- by this bottle, which I made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast ashore. CALIBAN. I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject, for the liquor is not earthly. STEPHANO. Here; swear then how thou escap'dst. TRINCULO. Swum ashore, man, like a duck; I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. STEPHANO. [Passing the bottle] Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. TRINCULO. O Stephano, hast any more of this? STEPHANO. The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a rock by th' seaside, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! How does thine ague? CALIBAN. Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven? STEPHANO. Out o' th' moon, I do assure thee; I was the Man i' th' Moon, when time was. CALIBAN. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee. My mistress show'd me thee, and thy dog and thy bush. STEPHANO. Come, swear to that; kiss the book. I will furnish it anon with new contents. Swear. [CALIBAN drinks] TRINCULO. By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The Man i' th' Moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well drawn, monster, in good sooth! CALIBAN. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island; and will kiss thy foot. I prithee be my god. TRINCULO. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster! When's god's asleep he'll rob his bottle. CALIBAN. I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject. STEPHANO. Come on, then; down, and swear. TRINCULO. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy- headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him- STEPHANO. Come, kiss. TRINCULO. But that the poor monster's in drink. An abominable monster! CALIBAN. I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries; I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, Thou wondrous man. TRINCULO. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard! CALIBAN. I prithee let me bring thee where crabs grow; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee To clust'ring filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? STEPHANO. I prithee now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the King and all our company else being drown'd, we will inherit here. Here, bear my bottle. Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again. CALIBAN. [Sings drunkenly] Farewell, master; farewell, farewell! TRINCULO. A howling monster; a drunken monster! CALIBAN. No more dams I'll make for fish; Nor fetch in firing At requiring, Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish. 'Ban 'Ban, Ca-Caliban, Has a new master-Get a new man. Freedom, high-day! high-day, freedom! freedom, high- day, freedom! STEPHANO. O brave monster! Lead the way. Exeunt < PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF ILLINOIS BENEDICTINE COLLEGE WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> ACT III. SCENE 1 Before PROSPERO'S cell Enter FERDINAND, hearing a log FERDINAND. There be some sports are painful, and their labour Delight in them sets off; some kinds of baseness Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters Point to rich ends. This my mean task Would be as heavy to me as odious, but The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead, And makes my labours pleasures. O, she is Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed; And he's compos'd of harshness. I must remove Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up, Upon a sore injunction; my sweet mistress Weeps when she sees me work, and says such baseness Had never like executor. I forget; But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours, Most busy, least when I do it. Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen MIRANDA. Alas, now; pray you, Work not so hard; I would the lightning had Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile. Pray, set it down and rest you; when this burns, 'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father Is hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself; He's safe for these three hours. FERDINAND. O most dear mistress, The sun will set before I shall discharge What I must strive to do. MIRANDA. If you'll sit down, I'll bear your logs the while; pray give me that; I'll carry it to the pile. FERDINAND. No, precious creature; I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo, While I sit lazy by. MIRANDA. It would become me As well as it does you; and I should do it With much more ease; for my good will is to it, And yours it is against. PROSPERO. [Aside] Poor worm, thou art infected! This visitation shows it. MIRANDA. You look wearily. FERDINAND. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night. I do beseech you, Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers, What is your name? MIRANDA. Miranda-O my father, I have broke your hest to say so! FERDINAND. Admir'd Miranda! What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues Have I lik'd several women, never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd, And put it to the foil; but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best! MIRANDA. I do not know One of my sex; no woman's face remember, Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen More that I may call men than you, good friend, And my dear father. How features are abroad, I am skilless of; but, by my modesty, The jewel in my dower, I would not wish Any companion in the world but you; Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle Something too wildly, and my father's precepts I therein do forget. FERDINAND. I am, in my condition, A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king- I would not so!-and would no more endure This wooden slavery than to suffer The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service; there resides To make me slave to it; and for your sake Am I this patient log-man. MIRANDA. Do you love me? FERDINAND. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound, And crown what I profess with kind event, If I speak true! If hollowly, invert What best is boded me to mischief! I, Beyond all limit of what else i' th' world, Do love, prize, honour you. MIRANDA. I am a fool To weep at what I am glad of. PROSPERO. [Aside] Fair encounter Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between 'em! FERDINAND. Wherefore weep you? MIRANDA. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give, and much less take What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife, if you will marry me; If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no. FERDINAND. My mistress, dearest; And I thus humble ever. MIRANDA. My husband, then? FERDINAND. Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e'er of freedom. Here's my hand. MIRANDA. And mine, with my heart in't. And now farewell Till half an hour hence. FERDINAND. A thousand thousand! Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA severally PROSPERO. So glad of this as they I cannot be, Who are surpris'd withal; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I'll to my book; For yet ere supper time must I perform Much business appertaining. Exit SCENE 2 Another part of the island Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO STEPHANO. Tell not me-when the butt is out we will drink water, not a drop before; therefore bear up, and board 'em. Servant-monster, drink to me. TRINCULO. Servant-monster! The folly of this island! They say there's but five upon this isle: we are three of them; if th' other two be brain'd like us, the state totters. STEPHANO. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee; thy eyes are almost set in thy head. TRINCULO. Where should they be set else? He were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. STEPHANO. My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in sack. For my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues, off and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or my standard. TRINCULO. Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard. STEPHANO. We'll not run, Monsieur Monster. TRINCULO. Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs, and yet say nothing neither. STEPHANO. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good moon-calf. CALIBAN. How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe. I'll not serve him; he is not valiant. TRINCULO. Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to justle a constable. Why, thou debosh'd fish, thou, was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half fish and half a monster? CALIBAN. Lo, how he mocks me! Wilt thou let him, my lord? TRINCULO. 'Lord' quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural! CALIBAN. Lo, lo again! Bite him to death, I prithee. STEPHANO. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head; if you prove a mutineer-the next tree! The poor monster's my subject, and he shall not suffer indignity. CALIBAN. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd to hearken once again to the suit I made to thee? STEPHANO. Marry will I; kneel and repeat it; I will stand, and so shall Trinculo. Enter ARIEL, invisible CALIBAN. As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island. ARIEL. Thou liest. CALIBAN. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou; I would my valiant master would destroy thee. I do not lie. STEPHANO. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth. TRINCULO. Why, I said nothing. STEPHANO. Mum, then, and no more. Proceed. CALIBAN. I say, by sorcery he got this isle; From me he got it. If thy greatness will Revenge it on him-for I know thou dar'st, But this thing dare not- STEPHANO. That's most certain. CALIBAN. Thou shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee. STEPHANO. How now shall this be compass'd? Canst thou bring me to the party? CALIBAN. Yea, yea, my lord; I'll yield him thee asleep, Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head. ARIEL. Thou liest; thou canst not. CALIBAN. What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch! I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows, And take his bottle from him. When that's gone He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him Where the quick freshes are. STEPHANO. Trinculo, run into no further danger; interrupt the monster one word further and, by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doors, and make a stock-fish of thee. TRINCULO. Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther off. STEPHANO. Didst thou not say he lied? ARIEL. Thou liest. STEPHANO. Do I so? Take thou that. [Beats him] As you like this, give me the lie another time. TRINCULO. I did not give the lie. Out o' your wits and hearing too? A pox o' your bottle! This can sack and drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the devil take your fingers! CALIBAN. Ha, ha, ha! STEPHANO. Now, forward with your tale.-Prithee stand further off. CALIBAN. Beat him enough; after a little time, I'll beat him too. STEPHANO. Stand farther. Come, proceed. CALIBAN. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him I' th' afternoon to sleep; there thou mayst brain him, Having first seiz'd his books; or with a log Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember First to possess his books; for without them He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not One spirit to command; they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burn but his books. He has brave utensils-for so he calls them- Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal. And that most deeply to consider is The beauty of his daughter; he himself Calls her a nonpareil. I never saw a woman But only Sycorax my dam and she; But she as far surpasseth Sycorax As great'st does least. STEPHANO. Is it so brave a lass? CALIBAN. Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth brave brood. STEPHANO. Monster, I will kill this man; his daughter and I will be King and Queen-save our Graces!-and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo? TRINCULO. Excellent. STEPHANO. Give me thy hand; I am sorry I beat thee; but while thou liv'st, keep a good tongue in thy head. CALIBAN. Within this half hour will he be asleep. Wilt thou destroy him then? STEPHANO. Ay, on mine honour. ARIEL. This will I tell my master. CALIBAN. Thou mak'st me merry; I am full of pleasure. Let us be jocund; will you troll the catch You taught me but while-ere? STEPHANO. At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. [Sings] Flout 'em and scout 'em, And scout 'em and flout 'em; Thought is free. CALIBAN. That's not the tune. [ARIEL plays the tune on a tabor and pipe] STEPHANO. What is this same? TRINCULO. This is the tune of our catch, play'd by the picture of Nobody. STEPHANO. If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness; if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list. TRINCULO. O, forgive me my sins! STEPHANO. He that dies pays all debts. I defy thee. Mercy upon us! CALIBAN. Art thou afeard? STEPHANO. No, monster, not I. CALIBAN. Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that, when I wak'd, I cried to dream again. STEPHANO. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing. CALIBAN. When Prospero is destroy'd. STEPHANO. That shall be by and by; I remember the story. TRINCULO. The sound is going away; let's follow it, and after do our work. STEPHANO. Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see this taborer; he lays it on. TRINCULO. Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano. Exeunt SCENE 3 Another part of the island Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and OTHERS GONZALO. By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir; My old bones ache. Here's a maze trod, indeed, Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience, I needs must rest me. ALONSO. Old lord, I cannot blame thee, Who am myself attach'd with weariness To th' dulling of my spirits; sit down and rest. Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it
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