And give it way;-I know thou canst not choose.
[Miranda sleeps.
Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;
Approach, my Ariel; come.
Pro. 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?
Ari. No, sir.
Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come Once in a month, recount what thou hast been,
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. Pro. Hast thou, spirit,
Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Ari. To every article.
I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
1 flam'd amazement: Sometime I'd divide 1
And burn in many places; on the topmast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precurs-
O'the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary [ors
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.
My brave spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
Would not infect his reason? Ari. Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation: All but mariners
Flung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring, (then like reeds, not hair,)
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, 'Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.'
Pro.
But was not this nigh shore?
Ari.
Close by, my master.
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.
Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe?
Ari.
The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd,
And all the rest o' the fleet.
Ari.
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 stow'd;
[me.
Pro. Thou hast: Where was she born? speak; tell
Ari. Sir, in Argier. Pro. O, was she so? I must,
Which thou forgett'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?
Ari. Ay, sir.
[child,
Pro. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with
And here was left by the 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 thygroans,
As fast as mill-wheels strike: Then was this island
(Save for the son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp, hag-born) not honour'd with
A human shape.
Ari. Yes; Caliban her son,
Pro. 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.
Ari.
I thank thee, master.
Pro. 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.
Ari.
Do so; and after two days
I will discharge thee.
Ari.
That's my noble master!
What shall I do? say what? what shall I do?
Pro. Go make thyself like a nymph o' the 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.
Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour, Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast sit Ariel.
I have left asleep and for the rest o' the 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 wrack'd,
And his great person perish. Pro. Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perforin'd; but there's more work:
What is the time o' the day?
Ari.
Past the mid season.
Pro. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six
Must by us both be spent most preciously. [and now)
Ari. 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.
Pro.
How now? moody?
What is 't thou canst demand? Ari. My liberty.
Pro. Before the time be out? no more.
Ari
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 pro-
To bate me a full year.
[mise
Pro.
Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee? Ari. No.
Pro. Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the
Of the salt deep;
To run upon the sharp wind of the north;
To do me business in the veins o' the earth,
Awake!
Mira. The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me. Pro. Shake it off: Come on;
We 'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer. Mira. 'T is a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on. Pro. But, as 't is,
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.
Cal. [Within.] There 's wood enough within.
Pro. Come forth, I say; there's other business for
Come, thou tortoise! when!
[thee:
Re-enter Ariel, like a water-nymph.
Hark in thine ear.
Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!
Cal. 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.
[cramps,
Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have
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
When it is bak'd with frost. Ari. I do not, sir. As thick as honeycomb, 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; wouldst
Water with berries in 't; and teach me how [give me
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 fer-
Cursed be I that did so!-All the charms [tile;
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.
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, [hour
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each
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
Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confin'd into this rock,
Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison.
Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on 't
Is, I know how to curse: the red plague rid you,
For learning me your language!
Pro.
Hag-seed, hence!
Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou wert best,
To answer other business. Shrugg'st thou, malice?
If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly
What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps;
Fill all thy bones with aches; make thee roar
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.
Cal.
No, pray thee!
I must obey his art is of such power,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.
Pro.
So, slave; hence!
[Exit Caliban.
Re-enter Ariel invisible, playing and singing;
Ferdinand following him.
Ariel's Song.
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:
Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd
The wild waves whist,
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
Bur. Hark, hark! Bowgh, wowgh.
The watch-dogs bark:
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo.
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell :
Hark! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell.
Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd fa-
This is no mortal business, nor no sound [ther :-
That the earth owes :-I hear it now above me.
Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And say, what thou seest yond'.
Mira.
What is 't? a spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form:-But 't is a spirit. [senses
Pro. No, wench; it eats, and sleeps, and hath such
As we have, such: This gallant, which thou seest,
Was in the wrack; and but he 's something stain'd
With grief, that 's beauty's canker, thou might'st
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, [call him
And strays about to find them.
Mira.
I might call him
A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.
Pro.
It goes on, I see,
Aside.
As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free
Within two days for this.
Fer.
[thee
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. No wonder, sir ;
But, certainly a maid.
My language! heavens !-
I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 't is spoken.
Pro.
What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee?
Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
To hear thee speak of Naples: He does hear me ;
And that he does I weep: myself am Naples;
Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld
The king my father wrack'd.
Alack, for mercy!
Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of
And his brave son, being twain.
[Milan,
Pro.
The duke of Milan,
And his more braver daughter, could control thee,
If now 't were fit to do 't:-At the first sight [Aside.
They have chang'd eyes:-Delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this 1-A word, good sir;
I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This
That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father
Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first
To be inclin'd my way! Fer. O, if a virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The queen of Naples.
Pro.
Soft, sir; one word more.
They are both in either's powers; but this swift
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Aside.
Make the prize light.-One word more; I charge
That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp [thee,
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.
Fer.
No, as I am a man.
Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a tem-
[ple :
Fer. Where should this music be? i' the air, or the If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
It sounds no more:-and sure it waits upon
Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wrack,
This music crept by me upon the waters;
Allaying both their fury, and my passion,
With its sweet air: thence I have follow'a it,
Or it hath drawn me rather:-But 't is gone.
No, it begins again.
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,
Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward;
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.
Mira.
Beseech you, father!
Pro. Hence; hang not on my garments.
Mira.
Sir, have pity; I'll be his surety. Pro. Silence! one word inore Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! An advocate for an impostor! hush!
Thou think'st there are no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: Foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels.
Mira.
My affections
Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man."
Pro.
Come on; obey: [To Ferd.
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them. Fer. So they are:
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wrack 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 Mir.
[To Ariel.
Be of comfort;
Hark, what thou else shalt do me. Mira.
My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.
SCENE I.-Another part of the Island. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others.
Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have cause
(So have we all) of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss: Our hint of woe
Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
The masters of som 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.
Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.
Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; By and by it will strike.
Ant. He could not miss it.
Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.
Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered."
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or, as 't were perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.
Seb. Of that there 's none, or little.
Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!
Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb. With an eye of green in 't.
Ant. He misses not inuch.
Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is indeed alinost beyond credit)-
Seb. As many vouched rarities are.
Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness, and glosses; being rather new dyed than stained with salt water.
Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, he lies?
Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel, to the king of Tunis.
Seb. 'T was a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.
Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen.
Gon. Not since widow Dido's time.
Ant. Widow? a pox o' that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido!
Seb. What if he had said, widower Æneas too? good lord, how you take it!
Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.
Adr. Carthage?
Gon. I assure you, Carthage.
Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too. Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?
Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple.
Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.
Gon. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem
now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the mar-
riage of your daughter, who is now queen.
Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.
Gon. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Comes to the entertainer-
Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you purposed.
Seb. You have taken it wíselier than I meant you should.
Gon. Therefore, my lord,
Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! Alon. I prithee spare.
Gon. Well, I have done: But yet
Seb. He will be talking.
Ant, O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido. Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. Ant. That sort was well fish'd for. Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against The stomach of my sense: 'Would I had never Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too, Who is so far from Italy remov'd,
I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Ant. Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager, Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee! Fran.
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
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
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, | Will guard your person while you take your rest,
That would not bless our Europe with your daugh- And watch your safety.
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.
Alon.
Prithee, peace.
Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd other-
By all of us; and the fair soul herself
[wise |
Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at
Which end o' the beam she 'd bow. We have lost
I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have [your son,
More widows in them of this business' making,
Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault 's
Your own. Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.
Gon. My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in; you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.
Ant. And most chirurgeonly.
Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy. Seb. Foul weather?
Very foul.
Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,-
Ant. He 'd sow 't 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 cominonwealth 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:-
Yet he would be king on 't. Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.
Gon. All things in common nature should produce
Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,,
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
Of its own kind, all foizon, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.
Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?
Ant. None, man; all icdle; whores and knaves.
Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.
Seb.
Ant. Long live Gonzalo !
Gon.
And, do you mark me, sir?-
Alon. Prithee, no more : thou dost talk nothing to |
Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.
Ant. 'T was you we laugh'd at.
Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am no. thing 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
They are inclin'd to do so.
[find
Seb.
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter. Ant. We two, my lord,
Thank you : wondrous heavy.
[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel.
"Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them !
Ant. It is the quality of the climate,
Seb. Why
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.
Ant.
Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian?-O, what might?-No more:-
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,
What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee;
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
What, art thou waking?
Ant. Do you not hear me speak?
Seb.
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. Aut. Noble Sebastian,
Thou lett'st thy fortune sleep, die rather; wink'st
Whiles thou art waking.
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.
Well, I am standing water.
Ant. I'll teach you how to flow.
Seb.
Hereditary sloth instructs me.
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
| Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it.
You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,"
Most often do so near the bottom run,
By their own fear, or sloth. Seb. 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.
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,—
'T is as impossible that he 's undrown'd,
As he that sleeps here, swims.
Seb.
Who's the next heir of Naples ?
Ant. She that is queen of Tunis: she that dwells
Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post,
(The man i' the moon 's too slow,) till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable.; she that from whom
We were all 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.
Seb.
What stuff is this?-How say you?
'T is true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis:
So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions
There is some space.
You did supplant your brother Prospero.
Ant.
And look how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before: My brother's servants
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.
Seb. But, for your conscience-
Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if 't were a kybe,
T would 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.
Seb.
Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent; as thou gott'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 you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth,
(For else his project dies,) to keep them living.
Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid them; but
For every trifle are they set upon me:
Sometime like apes, that moe 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:-Lo! now! lo!
Enter Trinculo.
Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me,
For bringing wood in slowly: I 'll fall fiat;
Perchance, he will not mind me.
Trin. Here's neither brush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear huge one, looks like a foul bumbard that would shed it sing i' the wind: yond' same black cloud, yond 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 sinells 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 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 InWarm, o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, dian. Legged like a man! and his fins like arms! 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 shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other strange bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.
Enter Stephano, singing; a bottle in his hand.
I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die ashore ;-
Ste. [Sings in Gonzalo's ear.
While you here do snoring lie
Open-eyed Conspiracy
His time doth take:
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake! Awake!
Ant. Then let us both be sudden.
Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king!
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
Cal. Do not torment me: O!
Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
Wherefore this ghastly looking?
[drawn? Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch:
Gon.
What 's the matter?
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.
Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, This is a scurvy tune too: But here's my comfort.
Even now we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
[Drinks.
Like bulls, or rather lions; did it not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.
Alon.
I heard nothing.
Ant. O, 't was a din to fright a monster's ear;
To make an earthquake! sure it was the roar
Of a whole herd of lions.
Alon.
Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages and men of Inde? Ha! I have not 'scaped drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground: and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at nostrils. Cal. The spirit torments me: O!
Heard you this, Gonzalo
Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
I shak'd you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes open'd, Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four legs;
I saw their weapons drawn:-there was a noise, who hath got, as I take it, an ague: Where the
That's verity: 'Tis best we stand upon our guard; devil should he learn our language? I will give him
Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons. some relief, if it be but for that: If I can recover
Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make further him and keep him tame, and get to Naples with
For my poor son.
[search him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod
on neat's-leather.
Cal. Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my
Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts!
For he is, sure, i' the island. Alon. Lead away.
Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have wood home faster.
done:
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.
[Aside. Ste. He 's in his fit now; and does not talk after [Exeunt. the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have
SCENE II.-Another part of the Island.
Enter Caliban, with a burthen 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,
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.
Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: Now Prosper works upon thee.
Ste. Come on your ways; open your mouth: here
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