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The text of _The Tempest_ is from Volume I of the nine-volume 1863
Cambridge edition of Shakespeare. The Preface (e-text 23041) and the
other plays from this volume are each available as separate e-texts.

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  THE WORKS

  of

  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE


  Edited by

  WILLIAM GEORGE CLARK, M.A.
  Fellow and Tutor of Trinity College, and Public Orator
  in the University of Cambridge;

  and JOHN GLOVER, M.A.
  Librarian Of Trinity College, Cambridge.


  _VOLUME I._


  Cambridge and London:
  MACMILLAN AND CO.
  1863.




THE TEMPEST.




DRAMATIS PERSONÆ[1].


  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.
  ADRIAN, Lord
  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.
  IRIS, presented by[2] Spirits.
  CERES,     „             „
  JUNO,      „             „
  Nymphs,    „             „
  Reapers,   „             „

  Other Spirits attending on Prospero[3].

SCENE--_A ship at sea[4]: an uninhabited island._


  Footnotes:

  1: DRAMATIS PERSONÆ] NAMES OF THE ACTORS F1 at the end of the Play.
  2: _presented by_] Edd.
  3: _Other ... Prospero_] Theobald.
  4: A ship at sea:] At sea: Capell.]




THE TEMPEST.




ACT I.


SCENE I. _On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise of thunder
and lightning heard._

  _Enter _a Ship-Master_ and _a Boatswain_._

_Mast._ Boatswain!

_Boats._ Here, master: what cheer?

_Mast._ Good, speak to the mariners: fall to’t, yarely, or
we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.    [_Exit._

  _Enter _Mariners_._

_Boats._ Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!              5
yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master’s
whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough!

  _Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO,
  and others._

_Alon._ Good boatswain, have care. Where’s the master?
Play the men.

_Boats._ I pray now, keep below.                                    10

_Ant._ Where is the master, boatswain?

_Boats._ Do you not hear him? You mar our labour:
keep your cabins: you do assist the storm.

_Gon._ Nay, good, be patient.

_Boats._ When the sea is. Hence! What cares these                   15
roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble
us not.

_Gon._ Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

_Boats._ None that I more love than myself. You are a
Counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence,           20
and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope
more; use your authority: if you cannot, give thanks you
have lived 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._                          25

_Gon._ 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 hanged, our case          30
is miserable.    [_Exeunt._

  _Re-enter Boatswain._

_Boats._ Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower!
Bring her to try with main-course. [_A cry within._] A
plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather
or our office.                                                      35

  _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?

_Seb._ A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,
incharitable dog!

_Boats._ Work you, then.                                            40

_Ant._ Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noise-maker.
We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

_Gon._ I’ll warrant him for drowning; though the ship
were no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched
wench.                                                              45

_Boats._ 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!

_Boats._ What, must our mouths be cold?

_Gon._ The king and prince at prayers! let’s assist them,           50
For our case is as theirs.

_Seb._                   I’m out of patience.

_Ant._ We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:
This wide-chapp’d rascal,--would thou mightst lie drowning
The washing of ten tides!

_Gon._                  He’ll be hang’d yet,
Though every drop of water swear against it,                        55
And gape at widest 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!”]

_Ant._ Let’s all sink with the king.                                60

_Seb._ Let’s take leave of him. [_Exeunt Ant. and Seb._

_Gon._ 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 a
dry death.    [_Exeunt._                                            65


  Notes: I, 1.

  SC. I. On a ship at sea] Pope.
  Enter ... Boatswain] Collier MS. adds ‘shaking off wet.’
  3: _Good,_] Rowe. _Good:_ Ff. _Good._ Collier.
  7: _till thou burst thy wind_] _till thou burst, wind_ Johnson conj.
    _till thou burst thee, wind_ Steevens conj.
  8: Capell adds stage direction [Exeunt Mariners aloft.
  11: _boatswain_] Pope. _boson_ Ff.
  11-18: Verse. S. Walker conj.
  15: _cares_] _care_ Rowe. See note (I).
  31:  [Exeunt] Theobald. [Exit. Ff.
  33: _Bring her to try_] F4. _Bring her to Try_ F1 F2 F3.
    _Bring her to. Try_ Story conj.
  33-35: Text as in Capell. _A plague_--A cry within. Enter Sebastian,
    Anthonio, and Gonzalo. _upon this howling._ Ff.
  34-37: Verse. S. Walker conj.
  43: _for_] _from_ Theobald.
  46: _two courses off to sea_] _two courses; off to sea_ Steevens
    (Holt conj.).
  46: [Enter...] [Re-enter... Dyce.
  47: [Exeunt. Theobald.
  50: _at_] _are at_ Rowe.
  50-54: Printed as prose in Ff.
  56: _to glut_] _t’ englut_ Johnson conj.
  57: See note (II).
  59: _Farewell, brother!_] _Brother, farewell!_ Theobald.
  60: _with the_] Rowe. _with’_ F1 F2. _with_ F3 F4.
  61: [Exeunt A. and S.] [Exit. Ff.
  63: _furze_ Rowe. _firrs_ F1 F2 F3. _firs_ F4.
  _long heath, brown furze_] _ling, heath, broom, furze_ Hanmer.]
  65: [Exeunt] [Exit F1, om. F2 F3 F4.]


SCENE II. _The island. Before PROSPERO’S cell._

  _Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA._

_Mir._ 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 the welkin’s cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer’d                              5
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                                10
Have sunk the sea within the earth, or ere
It should the good ship so have swallow’d and
The fraughting souls within her.

_Pros._                        Be collected:
No more amazement: tell your piteous heart
There’s no harm done.

_Mir._              O, woe the day!

_Pros._                           No harm.                          15
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,                          20
And thy no greater father.

_Mir._                   More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.

_Pros._                          ’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.              25
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 order’d, that there is no soul,
No, not so much perdition as an hair                                30
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.

_Mir._                        You have often
Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp’d,
And left me to a bootless inquisition,                              35
Concluding “Stay: not yet.”

_Pros._                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                   40
Out three years old.

_Mir._             Certainly, sir, I can.

_Pros._ By what? by any other house or person?
Of any thing the image tell me that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.

_Mir._                        ’Tis far off,
And rather like a dream than an assurance                           45
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
Four or five women once that tended me?

_Pros._ 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?                             50
If thou remember’st ought ere thou camest here,
How thou camest here thou mayst.

_Mir._                         But that I do not.

_Pros._ Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and
A prince of power.

_Mir._           Sir, are not you my father?                        55

_Pros._ 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.

_Mir._                       O the heavens!
What foul play had we, that we came from thence?                    60
Or blessed was’t we did?

_Pros._                Both, both, my girl:
By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heaved thence;
But blessedly holp hither.

_Mir._                   O, my heart bleeds
To think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to.
Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.                  65

_Pros._ 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 loved, and to him put
The manage of my state; as, at that time,                           70
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,                              75
And to my state grew stranger, being transported
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle--
Dost thou attend me?

_Mir._             Sir, most heedfully.

_Pros._ Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them, whom to advance, and whom                         80
To trash for over-topping, new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed ’em,
Or else new form’d ’em; having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts i’ the state
To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was                       85
The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,
And suck’d my verdure out on’t. Thou attend’st not.

_Mir._ O, good sir, I do.

_Pros._                 I pray thee, mark me.
I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To closeness and the bettering of my mind                           90
With that which, but by being so retired,
O’er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother
Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,
Like a good parent, did beget of him
A falsehood in its contrary, as great                               95
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,                           100
Made such a sinner of his memory,
To credit his own lie, he did believe
He was indeed the duke; out o’ the substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative:--hence his ambition growing,--               105
Dost thou hear?

_Mir._        Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

_Pros._ 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                    110
He thinks me now incapable; confederates,
So dry he was for sway, wi’ the 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!--                     115
To most ignoble stooping.

_Mir._                  O the heavens!

_Pros._ Mark his condition, and th’ event; then tell me
If this might be a brother.

_Mir._                    I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother:
Good wombs have borne bad sons.

_Pros._                       Now the condition.                   120
This King of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit;
Which was, that he, in lieu o’ the premises,
Of homage and I know not how much tribute,
Should presently extirpate me and mine                             125
Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan,
With all the honours, on my brother: whereon,
A treacherous army levied, one midnight
Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open
The gates of Milan; and, i’ the dead of darkness,                  130
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me and thy crying self.

_Mir._                Alack, for pity!
I, not remembering how I cried out then,
Will cry it o’er again: it is a hint
That wrings mine eyes to’t.

_Pros._                   Hear a little further,                   135
And then I’ll bring thee to the present business
Which now’s upon ’s; without the which, this story
Were most impertinent.

_Mir._               Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?

_Pros._             Well demanded, wench:
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,              140
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                   145
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg’d,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively have quit it: there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roar’d to us; to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,                      150
Did us but loving wrong.

_Mir._                 Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you!

_Pros._          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,                   155
Under my burthen groan’d; which raised in me
An undergoing stomach, to bear up
Against what should ensue.

_Mir._                   How came we ashore?

_Pros._ By Providence divine.
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that                       160
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,              165
Knowing I loved my books, he furnish’d me
From mine own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.

_Mir._                  Would I might
But ever see that man!

_Pros._              Now I arise:  [_Resumes his mantle._
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.                    170
Here in this island we arrived; and here
Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princesses can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

_Mir._ Heavens thank you for’t! And now, I pray you, sir,          175
For still ’tis beating in my mind, your reason
For raising this sea-storm?

_Pros._                   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                        180
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 inclined to sleep; ’tis a good dulness,                   185
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_._

_Ari._ All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
To answer thy best pleasure; be’t to fly,                          190
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curl’d clouds, to thy strong bidding task
Ariel and all his quality.

_Pros._                  Hast thou, spirit,
Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee?

_Ari._ To every article.                                           195
I boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flamed amazement: sometime I’ld divide,
And burn in many places; on the topmast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,                  200
Then meet and join. Jove’s lightnings, the precursors
O’ the 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,                  205
Yea, his dread trident shake.

_Pros._                     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                       210
Plunged 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 leap’d; cried, “Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.”

_Pros._                 Why, that’s my spirit!                     215
But was not this nigh shore?

_Ari._                    Close by, my master.

_Pros._ But are they, Ariel, safe?

_Ari._                           Not a hair perish’d;
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,
In troops I have dispersed them ’bout the isle.                    220
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.

_Pros._                  Of the king’s ship
The mariners, say how thou hast disposed,                          225
And all the rest o’ the fleet.

_Ari._                       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 stow’d;                             230
Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour,
I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet,
Which I dispersed, they all have met again,
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples;                                       235
Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d,
And his great person perish.

_Pros._                    Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform’d: but there’s more work.
What is the time o’ the day?

_Ari._                     Past the mid season.

_Pros._ At least two glasses. The time ’twixt six and now          240
Must by us both be spent most preciously.

_Ari._ Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,
Which is not yet perform’d me.

_Pros._                      How now? moody?
What is’t thou canst demand?

_Ari._                     My liberty.                             245

_Pros._ 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, served
Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise
To bate me a full year.

_Pros._               Dost thou forget                             250
From what a torment I did free thee?

_Ari._                             No.

_Pros._ 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’ the earth                        255
When it is baked with frost.

_Ari._                     I do not, sir.

_Pros._ 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.

_Pros._       Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.       260

_Ari._ Sir, in Argier.

_Pros._              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,                               265
Thou know’st, was banish’d: for one thing she did
They would not take her life. Is not this true?

_Ari._ Ay, sir.

_Pros._ This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child,
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,                  270
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,                              275
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              280
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.

_Pros._ Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban,                    285
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                              290
Could not again undo: it was mine art,
When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.

_Ari._                    I thank thee, master.

_Pros._ If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oak,
And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till                          295
Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters.

_Ari._                              Pardon, master:
I will be correspondent to command,
And do my spiriting gently.

_Pros._                   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?                        300

_Pros._ 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!

    [_Exit Ariel._

Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;                    305
Awake!

_Mir._ The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

_Pros._        Shake it off. Come on;
We’ll visit Caliban my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.

_Mir._               ’Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.

_Pros._                 But, as ’tis,                              310
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.

_Pros._ Come forth, I say! there’s other business for thee:        315
Come, thou tortoise! when?

  _Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph._

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
Hark in thine ear.

_Ari._           My lord, it shall be done.    [_Exit._

_Pros._ Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself
Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!                                   320

  _Enter CALIBAN._

_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!

_Pros._ For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,        325
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.

_Cal._                 I must eat my dinner.                       330
This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,
Thou strokedst me, and madest much of me; wouldst give me
Water with berries in’t; and teach me how
To name the bigger light, and how the less,                        335
That burn by day and night: and then I loved 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!                    340
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.

_Pros._               Thou most lying slave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,             345
Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodged thee
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
The honour of my child.

_Cal._ O ho, O ho! would ’t had been done!
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else                          350
This isle with Calibans.

_Pros._                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,                   355
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                    360
Deservedly confined into this rock,
Who hadst deserved 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!

_Pros._                      Hag-seed, hence!                      365
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,                     370
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

_Cal._                              No, pray thee.
[_Aside_] I must obey: his art is of such power,
It would control my dam’s god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.

_Pros._                 So, slave; hence!    [_Exit Caliban._

  _Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND
  following._

_ARIEL’S song._

    Come unto these yellow sands,                                  375
        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 burthen bear.                          380

 _Burthen_ [_dispersedly_]. Hark, hark!
                           Bow-wow.
        The watch-dogs bark:
                            Bow-wow.

_Ari._  Hark, hark! I hear
        The strain of strutting chanticleer                        385
        Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

_Fer._ 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,                          390
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.                                               395

_ARIEL sings._

    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                                   400
    Into something rich and strange.
    Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:

                    _Burthen:_ Ding-dong.

_Ari._ Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell.

_Fer._ The ditty does remember my drown’d father.                  405
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes:--I hear it now above me.

_Pros._ The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And say what thou seest yond.

_Mir._                      What is’t? a spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,                         410
It carries a brave form. But ’tis a spirit.

_Pros._ 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          415
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,
And strays about to find ’em.

_Mir._                      I might call him
A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

_Pros._ [_Aside_] It goes on, I see,
As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I’ll free thee         420
Within two days for this.

_Fer._                  Most sure, the goddess
On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer
May know if you remain upon this island;
And that you will some good instruction give
How I may bear me here: my prime request,                          425
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
If you be maid or no?

_Mir._              No wonder, sir;
But certainly a maid.

_Fer._              My language! heavens!
I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where ’tis spoken.

_Pros._                     How? the best?                         430
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                     435
The king my father wreck’d.

_Mir._                    Alack, for mercy!

_Fer._ Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan
And his brave son being twain.

_Pros._                      [_Aside_] The Duke of Milan
And his more braver daughter could control thee,
If now ’twere fit to do’t. At the first sight                      440
They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,
I’ll set thee free for this. [_To Fer._] A word, good sir;
I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.

_Mir._ Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that e’er I saw; the first                        445
That e’er I sigh’d for: pity move my father
To be inclined my way!

_Fer._               O, if a virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, I’ll make you
The queen of Naples.

_Pros._            Soft, sir! one word more.
[_Aside_] They are both in either’s powers:
        but this swift business                                    450
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
Make the prize light. [_To Fer._] One word more; I charge thee
That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself
Upon this island as a spy, to win it                               455
From me, the lord on’t.

_Fer._                No, as I am a man.

_Mir._ 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.

_Pros._                                Follow me.
Speak not you for him; he’s a traitor. Come;                       460
I’ll manacle thy neck and feet together:
Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither’d roots, and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

_Fer._                           No;
I will resist such entertainment till                              465
Mine enemy has more power.
            [_Draws, and is charmed from moving._

_Mir._                O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He’s gentle, and not fearful.

_Pros._                     What! I say,
My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who makest a show, but darest not strike, thy conscience           470
Is so possess’d with guilt: come from thy ward;
For I can here disarm thee with this stick
And make thy weapon drop.

_Mir._                  Beseech you, father.

_Pros._ Hence! hang not on my garments.

_Mir._                                Sir, have pity;
I’ll be his surety.

_Pros._           Silence! one word more                           475
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 the most of men this is a Caliban,                              480
And they to him are angels.

_Mir._                    My affections
Are, then, most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

_Pros._              Come on; obey:
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.

_Fer._             So they are:                                    485
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 subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day                           490
Behold this maid: all corners else o’ th’ earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

_Pros._ [_Aside_]      It works. [_To Fer._] Come on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [_To Fer._] Follow me.
[_To Ari._] Hark what thou else shalt do me.

_Mir._                                     Be of comfort;          495
My father’s of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
Which now came from him.

_Pros._                Thou shalt be as free
As mountain winds: but then exactly do
All points of my command.

_Ari._                  To the syllable.                           500

_Pros._ Come, follow. Speak not for him.    [_Exeunt._


  Notes: I, 2.

  3: _stinking_] _flaming_ Singer conj. _kindling_ S. Verges conj.
  4: _cheek_] _heat_ Collier MS. _crack_ Staunton conj.
  7: _creature_] _creatures_ Theobald.
  13: _fraughting_] Ff. _fraighted_ Pope. _fraighting_ Theobald.
    _freighting_ Steevens.
  15: Mir. _O, woe the day!_ Pros. _No harm._] Mir. _O woe the day!
    no harm?_ Johnson conj.
  19: _I am more better_] _I’m more or better_ Pope.
  24: [Lays ... mantle] Pope.
  28: _provision_] F1. _compassion_ F2 F3 F4. _prevision_ Hunter conj.
  29: _soul_] _soul lost_ Rowe. _foyle_ Theobald. _soil_ Johnson conj.
    _loss_ Capell. _foul_ Wright conj.
  31: _betid_] F1. _betide_ F2 F3 F4.
  35: _a_] F1. _the_ F2 F3 F4.
  38: _thou_] om. Pope.
  41: _Out_] _Full_ Pope (after Dryden). _Quite_ Collier MS.
  44: _with_] _in_ Pope (after Dryden).
  53: _Twelve year ... year_] _Tis twelve years ... years_ Pope.
  58, 59: _and his only heir And princess_] _and his only heir
    A princess_ Pope. _thou his only heir And princess_ Steevens.
    _and though his only heir A princess_] Johnson conj.
  63: _holp_] _help’d_ Pope.
  _O, my heart_] _My heart_ Pope.
  78: _me_] om. F3 F4.
  80: _whom ... whom_] F2 F3 F4. _who ... who_ F1.
  81: _trash_] _plash_ Hanmer.
  82, 83: _’em ... ’em_] _them ... them_ Capell.
  84: _i’ the state_] _i’th state_ F1. _e’th state_ F2.
    _o’th state_ F3 F4. om. Pope.
  88: _O, good sir ... mark me._] _Good sir ... mark me then._ Pope.
    _O yes, good sir ... mark me._ Capell.
  Mir. _O, ... do._ Pros. _I ... me_] _I ... me._ Mir. _O ... do._
    Steevens.
  89: _dedicated_] _dedicate_ Steevens (Ritson conj.).
  91: _so_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
  97: _lorded_] _loaded_ Collier MS.
  99: _exact, like_] _exact. Like_ Ff.
  100: _having into truth ... of it_] _loving an untruth, and telling
    ’t oft_ Hanmer. _having unto truth ... oft_ Warburton. _having to
    untruth ... of it_ Collier MS. _having sinn’d to truth ... oft_
    Musgrave conj.
  _telling_] _quelling_ S. Verges conj.
  101: _Made ... memory_] _Makes ... memory_ Hanmer. _Makes ...
    memory too_ Musgrave conj.
  103: _indeed the duke_] _the duke_ Steevens. _indeed duke_ S. Walker
    conj.
  _out o’ the_] _from_ Pope.
  105: _his_] _is_ F2.
  105, 106: _ambition growing_] _ambition Growing_ Steevens.
  106: _hear?_] _hear, child?_ Hanmer.
  109: _Milan_] _Millanie_ F1 (Capell’s copy).
  112: _wi’ the_] Capell. _with_ Ff. _wi’ th’_ Rowe. _with the_
    Steevens.
  116: _most_] F1. _much_ F2 F3 F4.
  119: _but_] _not_ Pope.
  120: _Good ... sons_] Theobald suggested that these words should be
    given to Prospero. Hanmer prints them so.
  122: _hearkens_] _hears_ Pope. _hearks_ Theobald.
  129: _Fated_] _Mated_ Dryden’s version.
  _purpose_] _practise_ Collier MS.
  131: _ministers_] _minister_ Rowe.
  133: _out_] _on’t_ Steevens conj.
  135: _to ’t_] om. Steevens (Farmer conj.).
  138: _Wherefore_] _Why_ Pope.
  141: _me_] om. Pope.
  146: _boat_] Rowe (after Dryden). _butt_ F1 F2 F3. _but_ F4.
    _busse_ Black conj.
  147: _sail_] F1. _nor sail_ F2 F3 F4.
  148: _have_] _had_ Rowe (after Dryden).
  150: _the winds_] _winds_ Pope.
  155: _deck’d_] _brack’d_ Hanmer. _mock’d_ Warburton. _fleck’d_
    Johnson conj. _degg’d_ anon. ap. Reed conj.
  162: _who_] om. Pope. _he_ Steevens conj.
  169: _Now I arise_] Continued to Miranda. Blackstone conj.
  [Resumes his mantle] om. Ff. [Put on robe again. Collier MS.
  173: _princesses_] _princesse_ F1 F2 F3. _princess_ F4.
    _princes_ Rowe. _princess’_ Dyce (S. Walker conj.). See note (III).
  186: [M. sleeps] Theobald.
  189: SCENE III. Pope.
  190: _be’t_] F1. _be it_ F2 F3 F4.
  193: _quality_] _qualities_ Pope (after Dryden).
  198: _sometime_] F1. _sometimes_ F2 F3 F4.
  200: _bowsprit_] _bore-sprit_ Ff. _bolt-sprit_ Rowe.
  201: _lightnings_] Theobald. _lightning_ Ff.
  202: _o’ the_] _of_ Pope.
  _thunder-claps_] _thunder-clap_ Johnson.
  205: _Seem_] _Seem’d_ Theobald.
  206: _dread_] F1. _dead_ F2 F3 F4.
  _My brave_] _My brave, brave_ Theobald. _That’s my brave_ Hanmer.
  209: _mad_] _mind_ Pope (after Dryden).
  211, 212: _vessel, ... son_] _vessell; Then all a fire with me
    the King’s sonne_ Ff.
  218: _sustaining_] _sea-stained_ Edwards conj. _unstaining_ or
    _sea-staining_ Spedding conj.
  229: _Bermoothes_] _Bermudas_ Theobald.
  231: _Who_] _Whom_ Hanmer.
  234: _are_] _all_ Collier MS.
  _upon_] _on_ Pope.
  239-240: Ari. _Past the mid season._ Pros. _At least two glasses_]
    Ari. _Past the mid season at least two glasses._ Warburton.
    Pros. _... Past the mid season?_ Ari. _At least two glasses_
    Johnson conj.
  244: _How now? moody?_] _How now, moody!_ Dyce (so Dryden, ed. 1808).
  245: _What_] F1. _Which_ F2 F3 F4.
  248: _made thee_] Ff. _made_ Pope.
  249: _didst_] F3 F4. _did_ F1 F2.
  264: _and sorceries_] _sorceries too_ Hanmer.
  267: _Is not this true?_] _Is this not true?_ Pope.
  271: _wast then_] Rowe (after Dryden). _was then_ Ff.
  273: _earthy_] _earthly_ Pope.
  282: _son_] F1. _sunne_ F2. _sun_ F3 F4.
  _she_] Rowe (after Dryden). _he_ Ff.
  298: See note (IV).
  301: _like_] F1. _like to_ F2 F3 F4.
  302: _Be subject to_] _be subject To_ Malone.
  _but thine and mine_] _but mine_ Pope.
  304: _in’t_] _in it_ Pope.
  _go, hence_] _goe: hence_ Ff. _go hence_ Pope. _hence_ Hanmer.
  307: _Heaviness_] _Strange heaviness_ Edd. conj.
  312: _serves in offices_] F1. _serves offices_ F2 F3 F4.
    _serveth offices_ Collier MS.
  316: _Come, thou tortoise! when?_] om. Pope.
  _Come_] _Come forth_ Steevens.]
  320: _come forth!_] _come forth, thou tortoise!_ Pope.
  321: SCENE IV. Pope.
  332: _camest_] Rowe. _cam’st_ Ff. _cam’st here_ Ritson conj.
  333: _madest_] Rowe (after Dryden). _made_ Ff.
  339: _Curs’d be I that_] F1. _Curs’d be I that I_ F2 F3 F4.
    _cursed be I that_ Steevens.
  342: _Which_] _Who_ Pope, and at line 351.
  346: _thee_] om. F4.
  349: _would ’t_] Ff. _I wou’d it_ Pope.
  351: Pros.] Theobald (after Dryden). Mira. Ff.
  352: _wilt_] F1. _will_ F2 F3 F4.
  355, 356: _didst not ... Know_] _couldst not ... Shew_ Hanmer.
  356: _wouldst_] _didst_ Hanmer.
  361, 362: _Deservedly ... deserved_] _Justly ... who hadst Deserv’d_
    S. Walker conj. _Confin’d ... deserv’d_ id. conj.
  362: _Who ... prison_] om. Pope (after Dryden).
  366: _thou’rt_] F1 F2 F3. _thou art_ F4. _thou wer’t_ Rowe.
  375: SCENE V. Pope.
  following.] Malone.
  378: _The wild waves whist_] Printed as a parenthesis by Steevens.
    See note (V).
  380: _the burthen bear_] Pope. _bear the burthen_ Ff.
  381-383: Steevens gives _Hark, hark! The watch-dogs bark_ to Ariel.
  387: _i’ th’ air or th’ earth?_] _in air or earth?_ Pope.
  390: _again_] _against_ Rowe (after Dryden).
  407: _owes_] _owns_ Pope (after Dryden), but leaves _ow’st_ 454.
  408: SCENE VI. Pope.
  419: _It goes on, I see,_] _It goes, I see_ Capell. _It goes on_
    Steevens.
  420: _fine spirit!_] om. Hanmer.
  427: _maid_] F3. _mayd_ F1 F2. _made_ F4.
  443: See note (VI).
  444: _ungently_] F1. _urgently_ F2 F3 F4.
  451: _lest_] F4. _least_ F1 F2 F3.
  452: _One_] _Sir, one_ Pope.
    _I charge thee_] _I charge thee_ [to Ariel. Pope.
  460: Pros. prefixed again to this line in Ff.
  468: _and_] _tho’_ Hanmer.
  469: _foot_] _fool_ S. Walker conj. _child_ Dryden’s version.
  470: _makest_] _mak’st_ F1. _makes_ F2 F3 F4.
  471: _so_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4. _all_ Pope.
  478: _is_] _are_ Rowe.
  488: _nor_] _and_ Rowe (after Dryden). _or_ Capell.
  489: _are_] _were_ Malone conj.




ACT II.


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 some merchant, and the merchant,                      5
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.

_Alon._                    Prithee, peace.

_Seb._ He receives comfort like cold porridge.                      10

_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.

_Gon._ Sir,--

_Seb._ One: tell.                                                   15

_Gon._ When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d,
Comes to the entertainer--

_Seb._ A dollar.

_Gon._ Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken
truer than you purposed.                                            20

_Seb._ You have taken it wiselier 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,--                                25

_Seb._ He will be talking.

_Ant._ Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first
begins to crow?

_Seb._ The old cock.

_Ant._ The cockerel.                                                30

_Seb._ Done. The wager?

_Ant._ A laughter.

_Seb._ A match!

_Adr._ Though this island seem to be desert,--

_Seb._ Ha, ha, ha!--So, you’re paid.                                35

_Adr._ Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,--

_Seb._ Yet,--

_Adr._ Yet,--

_Ant._ He could not miss’t.

_Adr._ It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate              40
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.                         45

_Ant._ Or as ’twere perfumed by a fen.

_Gon._ Here is every thing advantageous to life.

_Ant._ True; save means to live.

_Seb._ Of that there’s none, or little.

_Gon._ How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!               50

_Ant._ The ground, indeed, is tawny.

_Seb._ With an eye of green in’t.

_Ant._ He misses not much.

_Seb._ No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.

_Gon._ But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost             55
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.                 60

_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        65
fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.

_Seb._ ’Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in
our return.

_Adr._ Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon
to their queen.                                                     70

_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!                                              75

_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.                                      80

_Seb._ His word is more than the miraculous harp; he
hath raised 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.                           85

_Ant._ And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring
forth more islands.

_Gon._ Ay.

_Ant._ Why, in good time.

_Gon._ Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now              90
as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your
daughter, who is now queen.

_Ant._ And the rarest that e’er came there.

_Seb._ Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

_Ant._ O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.                               95

_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 fished for.

_Gon._ When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage?

_Alon._ You cram these words into mine ears against                100
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                      105
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?

_Fran._                   Sir, he may live:
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water.
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted                          110
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                            115
He came alive to land.

_Alon._              No, no, he’s gone.

_Seb._ 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,                    120
Who hath cause to wet the grief on’t.

_Alon._                             Prithee, peace.

_Seb._ You were kneel’d to, and importuned otherwise,
By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weigh’d between loathness and obedience, at
Which end o’ the beam should bow. We have lost your son,           125
I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business’ making
Than we bring men to comfort them:
The fault’s your own.

_Alon._             So is the dear’st o’ the loss.

_Gon._ My lord Sebastian,                                          130
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.

_Seb._                           Very well.

_Ant._ And most chirurgeonly.

_Gon._ It is foul weather in us all, good sir,                     135
When you are cloudy.

_Seb._             Foul weather?

_Ant._                         Very foul.

_Gon._ Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,--

_Ant._ He’ld sow’t with nettle-seed.

_Seb._                             Or docks, or mallows.

_Gon._ And were the king on’t, what would I do?

_Seb._ ’Scape being drunk for want of wine.                        140

_Gon._ I’ the 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,                    145
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;--                                                  150

_Seb._      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,                    155
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

_Seb._ No marrying ’mong his subjects?

_Ant._ None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.                     160

_Gon._ I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.

_Seb._                 ’Save his majesty!

_Ant._ Long live Gonzalo!

_Gon._                  And,--do you mark me, sir?

_Alon._ Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.

_Gon._ I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister     165
occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible
and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.

_Ant._ ’Twas you we laughed at.

_Gon._ Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to
you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.              170

_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.                                       175


  _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?                                                             180

_Ant._ Go sleep, and hear us.
            [_All sleep except Alon., Seb., and Ant._

_Alon._ What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find
They are inclined to do so.

_Seb._                    Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:                                 185
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.

_Ant._           We two, my lord,
Will guard your person while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.

_Alon._              Thank you.--Wondrous heavy.
                                [_Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel._

_Seb._ What a strange drowsiness possesses them!                   190

_Ant._ It is the quality o’ the climate.

_Seb._                                 Why
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself disposed 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,                  195
Worthy Sebastian?--O, what might?--No more:--
And yet methinks I see it in thy face,
What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee; and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.

_Seb._                What, art thou waking?                       200

_Ant._ Do you not hear me speak?

_Seb._                         I do; and surely
It is a sleepy language, and thou speak’st
Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,                   205
And yet so fast asleep.

_Ant._                Noble Sebastian,
Thou let’st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink’st
Whiles thou art waking.

_Seb._                Thou dost snore distinctly;
There’s meaning in thy snores.

_Ant._ I am more serious than my custom: you                       210
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do
Trebles thee o’er.

_Seb._           Well, I am standing water.

_Ant._ I’ll teach you how to flow.

_Seb._                           Do so: to ebb
Hereditary sloth instructs me.

_Ant._                       O,
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish                        215
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                        220
A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
Which throes thee much to yield.

_Ant._                         Thus, sir:
Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earth’d, hath here almost persuaded,--                  225
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.

_Seb._                      I have no hope
That he’s undrown’d.

_Ant._             O, out of that ‘no hope’                        230
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?

_Seb._                   He’s gone.

_Ant._                            Then, tell me,                   235
Who’s the next heir of Naples?

_Seb._                       Claribel.

_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               240
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.

_Seb._                   What stuff is this! How say you?          245
’Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s queen of Tunis;
So is she heir of Naples; ’twixt which regions
There is some space.

_Ant._             A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, “How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,                          250
And let Sebastian wake.” Say, this were death
That now hath seized 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                                         255
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?

_Seb._ Methinks I do.

_Ant._              And how does your content                      260
Tender your own good fortune?

_Seb._                      I remember
You did supplant your brother Prospero.

_Ant._                                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.                         265

_Seb._ But for your conscience.

_Ant._ 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,                   270
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,                   275
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                        280
We say befits the hour.

_Seb._                Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent; as thou got’st Milan,
I’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;
And I the king shall love thee.

_Ant._                        Draw together;                       285
And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.

_Seb._               O, but one word.      [_They talk apart._

  _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.                   290
                            [_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:                                     295
    Awake, awake!

_Ant._ Then let us both be sudden.

_Gon._                           Now, good angels
Preserve the king!                          [_They wake._

_Alon._ Why, how now? ho, awake!--Why are you drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking?

_Gon._                        What’s the matter?                   300

_Seb._ 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.

_Alon._                         I heard nothing.

_Ant._ O, ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear,                   305
To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar
Of a whole herd of lions.

_Alon._                 Heard you this, Gonzalo?

_Gon._ Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open’d,                 310
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.

_Alon._ Lead off this ground; and let’s make further search
For my poor son.

_Gon._         Heavens keep him from these beasts!                 315
For he is, sure, i’ th’ island.

_Alon._                       Lead away.

_Ari._ Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.    [_Exeunt._


  Notes: II, 1.

  3: _hint_] _stint_ Warburton.
  5: _masters_] _master_ Johnson. _mistress_ Steevens conj.
    _master’s_ Edd. conj.
  6: _of woe_] om. Steevens conj.
  11-99: Marked as interpolated by Pope.
  11: _visitor_] _’viser_ Warburton.
  _him_] om. Rowe.
  15: _one_] F1. _on_ F2 F3 F4.
  16: _entertain’d ... Comes_] Capell. _entertain’d, That’s offer’d
    comes_] Ff. Printed as prose by Pope.
  27: _of he_] Ff. _of them, he_ Pope. _or he_ Collier MS.
    See note (VII).
  35: Seb. _Ha, ha, ha!--So you’re paid_] Theobald. Seb. _Ha, ha, ha!_
    Ant. _So you’r paid_ Ff. Ant. _So you’ve paid_ Capell.
  81, 82: Seb. _His ... too_] Edd. Ant. _His ... harp._
    Seb. _He ... too_ Ff.
  88: _Ay._] I. Ff. _Ay?_ Pope.
  96: _sir, my doublet_] F1. _my doublet, sir_ F2 F3 F4.
  113: _stroke_] F1 F2 F3. _strokes_ F4.
  124: _Weigh’d_] _Sway’d_ S. Verges conj.
  _at_] _as_ Collier MS.]
  125: _o’ the_] _the_ Pope.
  _should_] _she’d_ Malone.
  129: _The fault’s your own_] _the fault’s your own_ (at the end
    of 128) Capell. _the fault’s Your own_ Malone.
  137: _plantation_] _the plantation_ Rowe. _the planting_ Hanmer.
  139: _on’t_] _of it_ Hanmer.
  144: _riches, poverty_] _wealth, poverty_ Pope. _poverty, riches_
    Capell.
  145: _contract, succession_] _succession, Contract_ Malone conj.
    _succession, None_ id. conj.
  146: _none_] _olives, none_ Hanmer.
  157: _its_] F3 F4. _it_ F1 F2. See note (VIII).
  162: _’Save_] F1 F2 F3. _Save_ F4. _God save_ Edd. conj.
  175: Enter ... invisible ... music.] Malone. Enter Ariel, playing
    solemn music. Ff. om. Pope. [Solemn music. Capell.
  181: [All sleep ... Ant.] Stage direction to the same effect,
    first inserted by Capell.
  182-189: Text as in Pope. In Ff. the lines begin _Would ... I find
    ... Do not ... It seldom ... We two ... While ... Thank._
  189: [Exit Ariel] Malone.
  192: _find not_ Pope. _find Not_ Ff.
  211: _so too, if heed_] _so too, if you heed_ Rowe.
    _so, if you heed_ Pope.
  212: _Trebles thee o’er_] _Troubles thee o’er_ Pope.
    _Troubles thee not_ Hanmer.
  222: _throes_] Pope. _throwes_ F1 F2 F3. _throws_ F4.
  _Thus, sir_] _Why then thus Sir_ Hanmer.
  226: _he’s_] _he’as_ Hanmer. _he_ Johnson conj.
  227: _Professes to persuade_] om. Steevens.
  234: _doubt_] _drops_ Hanmer. _doubts_ Capell.
  241: _she that from whom_] Ff. _she from whom_ Rowe.
    _she for whom_ Pope. _she from whom coming_ Singer.
    _she that--from whom?_ Spedding conj. See note (IX).
  242: _all_] om. Pope.
  243: _And ... to perform_] _May ... perform_ Pope. _And by that
    destin’d to perform_ Musgrave conj. _(And that by destiny)
    to perform_ Staunton conj.
  244: _is_] F1. _in_ F2 F3 F4.
  245: _In_] _Is_ Pope.
  250: _to_] F1. _by_ F2 F3 F4.
  _Keep_] _Sleep_ Johnson conj.
  251: See note (X).
  267: _’twere_] _it were_ Singer.
  267-271: Pope ends the lines with _that? ... slipper ... bosom ...
    Milan ... molest ... brother._
  267: See note (XI).
  269: _twenty_] _Ten_ Pope.
  270: _stand_] _stood_ Hanmer.
  _candied_] _Discandy’d_ Upton conj.
  271: _And melt_] _Would melt_ Johnson conj. _Or melt_ id. conj.
  273, 274: _like, that’s dead; Whom I, with_] _like, whom I With_
    Steevens (Farmer conj.).
  275: _whiles_] om. Pope.
  277: _morsel_] _Moral_ Warburton.
  280, 281: _business ... hour._] _hour ... business._ Farmer conj.
  282: _precedent_] Pope. _president_ Ff.
  _O_] om. Pope.
  [They talk apart] Capell.
  Re-enter Ariel invisible.] Capell. Enter Ariel with music and
    song. Ff.
  289: _you, his friend,_] _these, his friends_ Steevens
    (Johnson conj.).
  289, 290: _friend ... project dies ... them_] _friend ... projects
    dies ... you_ Hanmer. _friend ... projects die ... them_
    Malone conj. _friend ... project dies ... thee_ Dyce.
  298: [They wake.] Rowe.
  300: _this_] _thus_ Collier MS.
  307: _Gonzalo_] om. Pope.
  312: _verily_] _verity_ Pope.
  _upon our guard_] _on guard_ Pope.


SCENE II. _Another part of the island._

  _Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard._

_Cal._ All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i’ the mire,                   5
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                       10
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                       15
For bringing wood in slowly. I’ll fall flat;
Perchance he will not mind me.

_Trin._ Here’s neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any
weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i’
the wind: yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks               20
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; a kind      25
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          30
relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead
Indian. Legged like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm
o’ my troth! I do now let loose my opinion; hold it no
longer: this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately
suffered by a thunderbolt. [_Thunder._] Alas, the storm is come     35
again! my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there
is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with
strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the
storm be past.

  _Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand._

_Ste._ I shall no more to sea, to sea,                              40
                Here shall I die a-shore,--

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral: well,
here’s my comfort.                                  [_Drinks._


[_Sings._ The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
                       The gunner, and his mate,                    45
               Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
                   But none of us cared for Kate;
                   For she had a tongue with a tang,
                   Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!
               She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch;        50
               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._

_Cal._ Do not torment me:--O!

_Ste._ What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do                   55
you put tricks upon ’s with savages and men of Ind, 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’s nostrils.               60

_Cal._ The spirit torments me:--O!

_Ste._ 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          65
get to Naples with 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 wood
home faster.

_Ste._ He’s in his fit now, and does not talk after the             70
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.

_Cal._ Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I          75
know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.

_Ste._ 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.           80

_Trin._ I should know that voice: it should be--but he
is drowned; and these are devils:--O defend me!

_Ste._ 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.        85
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.

_Trin._ Stephano!

_Ste._ Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy!                  90
This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have
no long spoon.

_Trin._ Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me,
and speak to me; for I am Trinculo,--be not afeard,--thy
good friend Trinculo.                                               95

_Ste._ If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I’ll pull thee
by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo’s legs, these are they.
Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How earnest thou to be
the siege of this moon-calf? can he vent Trinculos?

_Trin._ I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke.             100
But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope, now, thou
art not drowned. 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
scaped!                                                            105

_Ste._ Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not
constant.

_Cal._ [_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.                                               110

_Ste._ How didst thou ’scape? How camest thou hither?
swear, by this bottle, how thou camest hither. I escaped
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.                                115

_Cal._ I’ll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy true subject;
for the liquor is not earthly.

_Ste._ Here; swear, then, how thou escapedst.

_Trin._ Swum ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim
like a duck, I’ll be sworn.                                        120

_Ste._ Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim
like a duck, thou art made like a goose.

_Trin._ O Stephano, hast any more of this?

_Ste._ The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by
the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf!            125
how does thine ague?

_Cal._ Hast thou not dropp’d from heaven?

_Ste._ Out o’ the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man
i’ the moon when time was.

_Cal._ I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee:               130
My mistress show’d me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush.

_Ste._ Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish
it anon with new contents: swear.

_Trin._ By this good light, this is a very shallow monster!
I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The                          135
man i’ the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well
drawn, monster, in good sooth!

_Cal._ I’ll show thee every fertile inch o’ th’ island;
And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god.

_Trin._ By this light, a most perfidious and drunken               140
monster! when’s god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle.

_Cal._ I’ll kiss thy foot; I’ll swear myself thy subject.

_Ste._ Come on, then; down, and swear.

_Trin._ I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed
monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in                    145
my heart to beat him,--

_Ste._ Come, kiss.

_Trin._ But that the poor monster’s in drink: an abominable
monster!

_Cal._ I’ll show thee the best springs; I’ll pluck thee berries;   150
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.

_Trin._ A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder                155
of a poor drunkard!

_Cal._ 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                      160
To clustering filberts, and sometimes I’ll get thee
Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

_Ste._ I prithee now, lead the way, without any more
talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company else being
drowned, we will inherit here: here; bear my bottle: fellow        165
Trinculo, we’ll fill him by and by again.

_Cal. sings drunkenly._] Farewell, master; farewell, farewell!

_Trin._ A howling monster; a drunken monster!

_Cal._ No more dams I’ll make for fish;
                Nor fetch in firing                                170
                At requiring;
             Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish:
                ’Ban, ’Ban, Cacaliban
                Has a new master:--get a new man.

Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-day,              175
freedom!

_Ste._ O brave monster! Lead the way.    [_Exeunt._


  Notes: II, 2.

  4: _nor_] F1 F2. _not_ F3 F4.
  15: _and_] _now_ Pope. _sent_ Edd. conj. (so Dryden).
  21: _foul_] _full_ Upton conj.
  35: [Thunder] Capell.
  38: _dregs_] _drench_ Collier MS.
  40: SCENE III. Pope.
  [a bottle in his hand] Capell.]
  46: _and Marian_] _Mirian_ Pope.
  56: _savages_] _salvages_ Ff.
  60: _at’s nostrils_] Edd. _at ’nostrils_ F1. _at nostrils_ F2 F3 F4.
    _at his nostrils_ Pope.
  78: _you, cat_] _you Cat_ Ff. _a cat_ Hanmer. _your cat_ Edd. conj.
  84: _well_] F1 om. F2 F3 F4.
  115, 116: Steevens prints as verse, _I’ll ... thy True ... earthly._
  118: _swear, then, how thou escapedst_] _swear then: how escapedst
    thou?_ Pope.
  119: _Swum_] _Swom_ Ff.
  131: _and thy dog, and thy bush_] _thy dog and bush_ Steevens.
  133: _new_] F1. _the new_ F2 F3 F4.
  135: _weak_] F1. _shallow_ F2 F3 F4.
  138: _island_] F1. _isle_ F2 F3 F4.
  150-154, 157-162, printed as verse by Pope (after Dryden).
  162: _scamels_] _shamois_ Theobald. _seamalls, stannels_ id. conj.
  163: Ste.] F1. Cal. F2 F3 F4.
  165: Before _here; bear my bottle_ Capell inserts [To Cal.].
    See note (XII).
  172: _trencher_] Pope (after Dryden). _trenchering_ Ff.
  175: _hey-day_] Rowe. _high-day_ Ff.




ACT III.


SCENE I. _Before PROSPERO’S cell._

  _Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log._

_Fer._ 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                               5
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 composed of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,                     10
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 lest, when I do it.

  _Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen._

_Mir._                  Alas, now, pray you,                        15
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;                         20
He’s safe for these three hours.

_Fer._                         O most dear mistress,
The sun will set before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.

_Mir._                  If you’ll sit down,
I’ll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that;
I’ll carry it to the pile.

_Fer._                   No, precious creature;                     25
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.

_Mir._             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,                     30
And yours it is against.

_Pros._                Poor worm, thou art infected!
This visitation shows it.

_Mir._                  You look wearily.

_Fer._ 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,--                        35
What is your name?

_Mir._           Miranda. --O my father,
I have broke your hest to say so!

_Fer._                          Admired Miranda!
Indeed the top of admiration! worth
What’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have eyed with best regard, and many a time                       40
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues
Have I liked several women; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed,                        45
And put it to the foil: but you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature’s best!

_Mir._             I do not know
One of my sex; no woman’s face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen                      50
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;                                 55
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.

_Fer._             I am, in my condition,
A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;                              60
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,                        65
To make me slave to it; and for your sake
Am I this patient log-man.

_Mir._                   Do you love me?

_Fer._ O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound,
And crown what I profess with kind event,
If I speak true! if hollowly, invert                                70
What best is boded me to mischief! I,
Beyond all limit of what else i’ the world,
Do love, prize, honour you.

_Mir._                    I am a fool
To weep at what I am glad of.

_Pros._                     Fair encounter
Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace                     75
On that which breeds between ’em!

_Fer._                          Wherefore weep you?

_Mir._ 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,                           80
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,                          85
Whether you will or no.

_Fer._                My mistress, dearest;
And I thus humble ever.

_Mir._                My husband, then?

_Fer._ Ay, with a heart as willing
As bondage e’er of freedom: here’s my hand.

_Mir._ And mine, with my heart in’t: and now farewell               90
Till half an hour hence.

_Fer._                 A thousand thousand!

    [_Exeunt Fer. and Mir. severally._

_Pros._ So glad of this as they I cannot be,
Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing
At nothing can be more. I’ll to my book;
For yet, ere supper-time, must I perform                            95
Much business appertaining.    [_Exit._


  Notes: III, 1.

  1: _and_] _but_ Pope.
  2: _sets_] Rowe. _set_ Ff.
  4, 5: _my ... odious_] _my mean task would be As heavy to me as
    ’tis odious_ Pope.
  9: _remove_] _move_ Pope.
  14: _labours_] _labour_ Hanmer.
  15: _Most busy lest_] F1. _Most busy least_ F2 F3 F4. _Least busy_
    Pope. _Most busie-less_ Theobald._ Most busiest_ Holt White conj.
    _Most busy felt_ Staunton. _Most busy still_ Staunton conj.
    _Most busy-blest_ Collier MS. _Most busiliest_ Bullock conj.
  _Most busy lest, when I do_ (_doe_ F1 F2 F3) _it_] _Most busy when
    least I do it_ Brae conj. _Most busiest when idlest_ Spedding
    conj. _Most busy left when idlest_ Edd. conj. See note (XIII).
  at a distance, unseen] Rowe.
  17: _you are_] F1. _thou art_ F2 F3 F4.
  31: _it is_] _is it_ Steevens conj. (ed. 1, 2, and 3). om. Steevens
    (ed. 4) (Farmer conj.).
  34, 35: _I do beseech you,--Chiefly_] _I do beseech you Chiefly_ Ff.
  59: _I therein do_] _I do_ Pope. _Therein_ Steevens.
  62: _wooden_] _wodden_ F1.
  _than to_] _than I would_ Pope.
  72: _what else_] _aught else_ Malone conj. (withdrawn).
  80: _seeks_] _seekd_ F3 F4.
  88: _as_] F1. _so_ F2 F3 F4.
  91: _severally_] Capell.
  93: _withal_] Theobald. _with all_ Ff.


SCENE II. _Another part of the island._

  _Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO._

_Ste._ 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.

_Trin._ Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They
say there’s but five upon this isle: we are three of them; if        5
th’ other two be brained like us, the state totters.

_Ste._ Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes
are almost set in thy head.

_Trin._ Where should they be set else? he were a brave
monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.                       10

_Ste._ My man-monster hath drowned 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.                                                           15

_Trin._ Your lieutenant, if you list; he’s no standard.

_Ste._ We’ll not run, Monsieur Monster.

_Trin._ Nor go neither; but you’ll lie, like dogs, and
yet say nothing neither.

_Ste._ Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a           20
good moon-calf.

_Cal._ How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe.
I’ll not serve him, he is not valiant.

_Trin._ Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case
to justle a constable. Why, thou debauched fish, thou, was          25
there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as
I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a
fish and half a monster?

_Cal._ Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?

_Trin._ ‘Lord,’ quoth he! That a monster should be                  30
such a natural!

_Cal._ Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee.

_Ste._ 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.                         35

_Cal._ I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to
hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?

_Ste._ Marry, will I: kneel and repeat it; I will stand,
and so shall Trinculo.

  _Enter ARIEL, invisible._

_Cal._ As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a           40
sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island.

_Ari._ Thou liest.

_Cal._           Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou:
I would my valiant master would destroy thee!
I do not lie.

_Ste._ Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in’s tale, by          45
this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.

_Trin._ Why, I said nothing.

_Ste._ Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.

_Cal._ I say, by sorcery he got this isle;
From me he got it. If thy greatness will                            50
Revenge it on him,--for I know thou darest,
But this thing dare not,--

_Ste._ That’s most certain.

_Cal._ Thou shalt be lord of it, and I’ll serve thee.

_Ste._ How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou                  55
bring me to the party?

_Cal._ Yea, yea, my lord: I’ll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.

_Ari._ Thou liest; thou canst not.

_Cal._ What a pied ninny’s this! Thou scurvy patch!                 60
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.

_Ste._ Trinculo, run into no further danger: interrupt the          65
monster one word further, and, by this hand, I’ll turn my
mercy out o’ doors, and make a stock-fish of thee.

_Trin._ Why, what did I? I did nothing. I’ll go farther
off.

_Ste._ Didst thou not say he lied?                                  70

_Ari._ Thou liest.

_Ste._ Do I so? take thou that. [_Beats him._] As you
like this, give me the lie another time.

_Trin._ I did not give the lie. Out o’ your wits, and
hearing too? A pox o’ your bottle! this can sack and                75
drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the devil
take your fingers!

_Cal._ Ha, ha, ha!

_Ste._ Now, forward with your tale. --Prithee, stand farther
off.                                                                80

_Cal._ Beat him enough: after a little time,
I’ll beat him too.

_Ste._ Stand farther. Come, proceed.

_Cal._ Why, as I told thee, ’tis a custom with him
I’ th’ afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him,
Having first seized his books; or with a log                        85
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                         90
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                              95
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.

_Ste._                Is it so brave a lass?

_Cal._ Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant,               100
And bring thee forth brave brood.

_Ste._ 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?                                                          105

_Trin._ Excellent.

_Ste._ Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but,
while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head.

_Cal._ Within this half hour will he be asleep:
Wilt thou destroy him then?

_Ste._                    Ay, on mine honour.                      110

_Ari._ This will I tell my master.

_Cal._ Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure:
Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch
You taught me but while-ere?

_Ste._ At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any              115
reason. --Come on. Trinculo, let us sing.      [_Sings._

  Flout ’em and scout ’em, and scout ’em and flout ’em;
  Thought is free.

_Cal._ That’s not the tune.

  [_Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe._

_Ste._ What is this same?                                          120

_Trin._ This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture
of Nobody.

_Ste._ If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness:
if thou beest a devil, take’t as thou list.

_Trin._ O, forgive me my sins!                                     125

_Ste._ He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy
upon us!

_Cal._ Art thou afeard?

_Ste._ No, monster, not I.

_Cal._ Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,                  130
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,                   135
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.

_Ste._ This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I
shall have my music for nothing.                                   140

_Cal._ When Prospero is destroyed.

_Ste._ That shall be by and by: I remember the story.

_Trin._ The sound is going away; let’s follow it, and
after do our work.

_Ste._ Lead, monster; we’ll follow. I would I could see            145
this taborer; he lays it on.

_Trin._ Wilt come? I’ll follow, Stephano.    [_Exeunt._


  Notes: III, 2.

  SCENE II. Another...] Theobald. The other... Pope.
  Enter ...] Enter S. and T. reeling, Caliban following with a bottle.
    Capell. Enter C. S. and T. with a bottle. Johnson.]
  8: _head_] F1. _heart_ F2 F3 F4.
  13, 14: _on. By this light, thou_] _on, by this light thou_ Ff.
    _on, by this light. --Thou_ Capell.
  25: _debauched_] _debosh’d_ Ff.
  37: _to the suit I made to thee_] _the suit I made thee_ Steevens,
    who prints all Caliban’s speeches as verse.
  60: Johnson conjectured that this line was spoken by Stephano.
  68: _farther_] F1 _no further_ F2 F3 F4.
  72: [Beats him.] Rowe.
  84: _there_] _then_ Collier MS.
  89: _nor_] _and_ Pope.
  93: _deck_] _deck’t_ Hanmer.
  96: _I never saw a woman_] _I ne’er saw woman_ Pope.
  99: _great’st does least_] _greatest does the least_ Rowe.
  115, 116:] Printed as verse in Ff.
  115: _any_] F1. _and_ F2 F3 F4.
  117: _scout ’em, and scout ’em_] Pope. _cout ’em and skowt ’em_ Ff.
  125: _sins_] _sin_ F4.
  132: _twangling_] _twanging_ Pope.
  133: _sometime_] F1. _sometimes_ F2 F3 F4.
  137: _that_] om. Pope.
  147: Trin. _Will come? I’ll follow, Stephano_] Trin. _Wilt come?_
    Ste. _I’ll follow._ Capell. Ste. _... Wilt come?_
    Trin. _I’ll follow, Stephano._ Ritson conj.


SCENE III. _Another part of the island._

  _Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO,
  and others._

_Gon._ 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.

_Alon._             Old lord, I cannot blame thee,
Who am myself attach’d with weariness,                               5
To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest.
Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it
No longer for my flatterer: he is drown’d
Whom thus we stray to find; and the sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.                     10

_Ant._ [_Aside to Seb._] I am right glad that he’s so out of hope.
Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose
That you resolved to effect.

_Seb._ [_Aside to Ant._] The next advantage
Will we take throughly.

_Ant._ [_Aside to Seb._] Let it be to-night;
For, now they are oppress’d with travel, they                       15
Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance
As when they are fresh.

_Seb._ [_Aside to Ant._] I say, to-night: no more.

  [_Solemn and strange music._

_Alon._ What harmony is this?--My good friends, hark!

_Gon._ Marvellous sweet music!

  _Enter PROSPERO above, invisible. Enter several strange Shapes,
  bringing in a banquet: they dance about it with gentle actions of
  salutation; and, inviting the King, &c. to eat, they depart._

_Alon._ Give us kind keepers, heavens!--What were these?            20

_Seb._ A living drollery. Now I will believe
That there are unicorns; that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phœnix’ throne; one phœnix
At this hour reigning there.

_Ant._                     I’ll believe both;
And what does else want credit, come to me,                         25
And I’ll be sworn ’tis true: travellers ne’er did lie,
Though fools at home condemn ’em.

_Gon._                          If in Naples
I should report this now, would they believe me?
If I should say, I saw such islanders,--
For, certes, these are people of the island,--                      30
Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note,
Their manners are more gentle-kind than of
Our human generation you shall find
Many, nay, almost any.

_Pros._              [_Aside_] Honest lord,
Thou hast said well; for some of you there present                  35
Are worse than devils.

_Alon._              I cannot too much muse
Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing--
Although they want the use of tongue--a kind
Of excellent dumb discourse.

_Pros._                    [_Aside_] Praise in departing.

_Fran._ They vanish’d strangely.

_Seb._                         No matter, since                     40
They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.--
Will’t please you taste of what is here?

_Alon._                                Not I.

_Gon._ Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,
Who would believe that there were mountaineers
Dew-lapp’d like bulls, whose throats had hanging at ’em             45
Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men
Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find
Each putter-out of five for one will bring us
Good warrant of.

_Alon._        I will stand to, and feed,
Although my last: no matter, since I feel                           50
The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke,
Stand to, and do as we.

  _Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps his
  wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the banquet
  vanishes._

_Ari._ You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,--
That hath to instrument this lower world
And what is in’t,--the never-surfeited sea                          55
Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island,
Where man doth not inhabit,--you ’mongst men
Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad;
And even with such-like valour men hang and drown
Their proper selves.    [_Alon., Seb. &c. draw their swords._
                   You fools! I and my fellows                      60
Are ministers of Fate: the elements,
Of whom your swords are temper’d, may as well
Wound the loud winds, or with bemock’d-at stabs
Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish
One dowle that’s in my plume: my fellow-ministers                   65
Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,
Your swords are now too massy for your strengths,
And will not be uplifted. But remember,--
For that’s my business to you,--that you three
From Milan did supplant good Prospero;                              70
Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it,
Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed
The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have
Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,
Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,                        75
They have bereft; and do pronounce by me:
Lingering perdition--worse than any death
Can be at once--shall step by step attend
You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from,--
Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls                  80
Upon your heads,--is nothing but heart-sorrow
And a clear life ensuing.

  _He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, enter the Shapes
  again, and dance, with mocks and mows, and carrying out the
  table._

_Pros._ Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou
Perform’d, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring:
Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated                           85
In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life
And observation strange, my meaner ministers
Their several kinds have done. My high charms work,
And these mine enemies are all knit up
In their distractions: they now are in my power;                    90
And in these fits I leave them, while I visit
Young Ferdinand,--whom they suppose is drown’d,--
And his and mine loved darling.    [_Exit above._

_Gon._ I’ the name of something holy, sir, why stand you
In this strange stare?

_Alon._              O, it is monstrous, monstrous!                 95
Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it;
The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced
The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.
Therefore my son i’ th’ ooze is bedded; and                        100
I’ll seek him deeper than e’er plummet sounded,
And with him there lie mudded.    [_Exit._

_Seb._                       But one fiend at a time,
I’ll fight their legions o’er.

_Ant._                       I’ll be thy second.

    [_Exeunt Seb. and Ant._

_Gon._ All three of them are desperate: their great guilt,
Like poison given to work a great time after,                      105
Now ’gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you,
That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly,
And hinder them from what this ecstasy
May now provoke them to.

_Adr._                 Follow, I pray you.    [_Exeunt._


  Notes: III, 3.

  2: _ache_] _ake_ F2 F3 F4. _akes_ F1.
  3: _forth-rights_] F2 F3 F4. _fourth rights_ F1.
  8: _flatterer_] F1. _flatterers_ F2 F3 F4.
  17: Prospero above] Malone. Prosper on the top Ff. See note (XIV).
  20: _were_] F1 F2 F3. _are_ F4.
  26: _’tis true_] _to ’t_ Steevens conj.
  _did lie_] _lied_ Hanmer.
  29: _islanders_] F2 F3 F4. _islands_ F1.
  32: _gentle-kind_] Theobald. _gentle, kind_ Ff. _gentle kind_ Rowe.
  36: _muse_] F1 F2 F3. _muse_, F4. _muse_; Capell.
  48: _of five for one_] Ff. _on five for one_ Theobald.
    _of one for five_ Malone, (Thirlby conj.) See note (XV).
  49-51: _I will ... past_] Mason conjectured that these lines formed
    a rhyming couplet.
  53: SCENE IV. Pope.
  54: _instrument_] _instruments_ F4.
  56: _belch up you_] F1 F2 F3. _belch you up_ F4. _belch up_ Theobald.
  60: [... draw their swords] Hanmer.
  65: _dowle_] _down_ Pope.]
  _plume_] Rowe. _plumbe_ F1 F2 F3. _plumb_ F4.
  67: _strengths_] _strength_ F4.
  79: _wraths_] _wrath_ Theobald.
  81: _heart-sorrow_] Edd. _hearts-sorrow_ Ff. _heart’s-sorrow_ Rowe.
    _heart’s sorrow_ Pope.
  82: mocks] mopps Theobald.
  86: _life_] _list_ Johnson conj.
  90: _now_] om. Pope.
  92: _whom_] _who_ Hanmer.
  93: _mine_] _my_ Rowe.
  [Exit above] Theobald.]
  94: _something holy, sir_,] _something, holy Sir_, F4.
  99: _bass_] Johnson. _base_ Ff.
  106: _do_] om. Pope.




ACT IV.


SCENE I. _Before PROSPERO’S cell._

  _Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA._

_Pros._ If I have too austerely punish’d you,
Your compensation makes amends; for I
Have given you here a third of mine own life,
Or that for which I live; who once again
I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations                              5
Were but my trials of thy love, and thou
Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore Heaven,
I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,
Do not smile at me that I boast her off,
For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise,                   10
And make it halt behind her.

_Fer._                     I do believe it
Against an oracle.

_Pros._          Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition
Worthily purchased, take my daughter: but
If thou dost break her virgin-knot before                           15
All sanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy rite be minister’d,
No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall
To make this contract grow; but barren hate,
Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew                         20
The union of your bed with weeds so loathly
That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed,
As Hymen’s lamps shall light you.

_Fer._                          As I hope
For quiet days, fair issue and long life,
With such love as ’tis now, the murkiest den,                       25
The most opportune place, the strong’st suggestion
Our worser Genius can, shall never melt
Mine honour into lust, to take away
The edge of that day’s celebration
When I shall think, or Phœbus’ steeds are founder’d,                30
Or Night kept chain’d below.

_Pros._                    Fairly spoke.
Sit, then, and talk with her; she is thine own.
What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!

  _Enter ARIEL._

_Ari._ What would my potent master? here I am.

_Pros._ Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service               35
Did worthily perform; and I must use you
In such another trick. Go bring the rabble,
O’er whom I give thee power, here to this place:
Incite them to quick motion; for I must
Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple                           40
Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise,
And they expect it from me.

_Ari._                    Presently?

_Pros._ Ay, with a twink.

_Ari._ Before you can say, ‘come,’ and ‘go,’
            And breathe twice, and cry, ‘so, so,’                   45
            Each one, tripping on his toe,
            Will be here with mop and mow.
            Do you love me, master? no?

_Pros._ Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach
Till thou dost hear me call.

_Ari._                     Well, I conceive.    [_Exit._            50

_Pros._ Look thou be true; do not give dalliance
Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw
To the fire i’ the blood: be more abstemious,
Or else, good night your vow!

_Fer._                      I warrant you, sir;
The white cold virgin snow upon my heart                            55
Abates the ardour of my liver.

_Pros._                      Well.
Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary,
Rather than want a spirit: appear, and pertly!
No tongue! all eyes! be silent.                  [_Soft music._

    _Enter IRIS._

  _Iris._ Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas                 60
    Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease;
    Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
    And flat meads thatch’d with stover, them to keep;
    Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims,
    Which spongy April at thy best betrims,                         65
    To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom-groves,
    Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,
    Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard;
    And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard,
    Where thou thyself dost air;--the queen o’ the sky,             70
    Whose watery arch and messenger am I,
    Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace,
    Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,
    To come and sport:--her peacocks fly amain:
    Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.                         75

    _Enter CERES._

  _Cer._ Hail, many-colour’d messenger, that ne’er
    Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;
    Who, with thy saffron wings, upon my flowers
    Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers;
    And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown                    80
    My bosky acres and my unshrubb’d down,
    Rich scarf to my proud earth;--why hath thy queen
    Summon’d me hither, to this short-grass’d green?

  _Iris._ A contract of true love to celebrate;
    And some donation freely to estate                              85
    On the blest lovers.

  _Cer._             Tell me, heavenly bow,
    If Venus or her son, as thou dost know,
    Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot
    The means that dusky Dis my daughter got,
    Her and her blind boy’s scandal’d company                       90
    I have forsworn.

  _Iris._        Of her society
    Be not afraid: I met her Deity
    Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son
    Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done
    Some wanton charm upon this man and maid,                       95
    Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid
    Till Hymen’s torch be lighted: but in vain;
    Mars’s hot minion is returned again;
    Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,
    Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows,          100
    And be a boy right out.

  _Cer._                High’st queen of state,
    Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait.

    _Enter JUNO._

  _Juno._ How does my bounteous sister? Go with me
    To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be,
    And honour’d in their issue.         [_They sing:_             105

  _Juno._ Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,
            Long continuance, and increasing,
            Hourly joys be still upon you!
            Juno sings her blessings on you.

  _Cer._  Earth’s increase, foison plenty,                         110
            Barns and garners never empty;
            Vines with clustering bunches growing;
            Plants with goodly burthen bowing;
            Spring come to you at the farthest
            In the very end of harvest!                            115
            Scarcity and want shall shun you;
            Ceres’ blessing so is on you.

_Fer._ This is a most majestic vision, and
Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold
To think these spirits?

_Pros._               Spirits, which by mine art                   120
I have from their confines call’d to enact
My present fancies.

_Fer._            Let me live here ever;
So rare a wonder’d father and a wife
Makes this place Paradise.

    [_Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment._

_Pros._                  Sweet, now, silence!
Juno and Ceres whisper seriously;                                  125
There’s something else to do: hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marr’d.

  _Iris._ You nymphs, call’d Naiads, of the windring brooks,
            With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks,
            Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land      130
            Answer your summons; Juno does command:
            Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
            A contract of true love; be not too late.

    _Enter certain Nymphs._

            You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,
            Come hither from the furrow, and be merry:             135
            Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on,
            And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
            In country footing.

    _Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join with the
    Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards the end whereof PROSPERO
    starts suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a strange, hollow,
    and confused noise, they heavily vanish._

_Pros._ [_Aside_] I had forgot that foul conspiracy
Of the beast Caliban and his confederates                          140
Against my life: the minute of their plot
Is almost come. [_To the Spirits._] Well done! avoid; no more!

_Fer._ This is strange: your father’s in some passion
That works him strongly.

_Mir._                 Never till this day
Saw I him touch’d with anger so distemper’d.                       145

_Pros._ You do look, my son, in a moved sort,
As if you were dismay’d: be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:                                150
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,                        155
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex’d;
Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled:
Be not disturb’d with my infirmity:                                160
If you be pleased, retire into my cell,
And there repose: a turn or two I’ll walk,
To still my beating mind.

_Fer._ _Mir._           We wish your peace.    [_Exeunt._

_Pros._ Come with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel: come.

  _Enter ARIEL._

_Ari._ Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?              165

_Pros._                                             Spirit,
We must prepare to meet with Caliban.

_Ari._ Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres,
I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear’d
Lest I might anger thee.

_Pros._ Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?           170

_Ari._ I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;
So full of valour that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces; beat the ground
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor;                       175
At which, like unback’d colts, they prick’d their ears,
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses
As they smelt music: so I charm’d their ears,
That, calf-like, they my lowing follow’d through
Tooth’d briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns,           180
Which enter’d their frail shins: at last I left them
I’ the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,
There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake
O’erstunk their feet.

_Pros._             This was well done, my bird.
Thy shape invisible retain thou still:                             185
The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither,
For stale to catch these thieves.

_Ari._                          I go, I go.    [_Exit._

_Pros._ A devil, a born devil, on whose nature
Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;                         190
And as with age his body uglier grows,
So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,
Even to roaring.

  _Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c._

Come, hang them on this line.

  _PROSPERO and ARIEL remain, invisible. Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO,
  and TRINCULO, all wet._

_Cal._ Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not
Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell.                        195

_Ste._ Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless
fairy, has done little better than played the Jack with us.

_Trin._ Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at which my
nose is in great indignation.

_Ste._ So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should               200
take a displeasure against you, look you,--

_Trin._ Thou wert but a lost monster.

_Cal._ Good my lord, give me thy favour still.
Be patient, for the prize I’ll bring thee to
Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly.             205
All’s hush’d as midnight yet.

_Trin._ Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,--

_Ste._ There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that,
monster, but an infinite loss.

_Trin._ That’s more to me than my wetting: yet this is             210
your harmless fairy, monster.

_Ste._ I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er ears for
my labour.

_Cal._ Prithee, my king, be quiet. See’st thou here,
This is the mouth o’ the cell: no noise, and enter.                215
Do that good mischief which may make this island
Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,
For aye thy foot-licker.

_Ste._ Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody
thoughts.                                                          220

_Trin._ O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano!
look what a wardrobe here is for thee!

_Cal._ Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.

_Trin._ O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery.
O King Stephano!                                                   225

_Ste._ Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I’ll
have that gown.

_Trin._ Thy Grace shall have it.

_Cal._ The dropsy drown this fool! what do you mean
To dote thus on such luggage? Let’s alone,                         230
And do the murder first: if he awake,
From toe to crown he’ll fill our skins with pinches,
Make us strange stuff.

_Ste._ Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not this
my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: now, jerkin,          235
you are like to lose your hair, and prove a bald jerkin.

_Trin._ Do, do: we steal by line and level, an’t like your
Grace.

_Ste._ I thank thee for that jest; here’s a garment for’t:
wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this country.       240
‘Steal by line and level’ is an excellent pass of pate;
there’s another garment for’t.

_Trin._ Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers,
and away with the rest.

_Cal._ I will have none on’t: we shall lose our time,              245
And all be turn’d to barnacles, or to apes
With foreheads villanous low.

_Ste._ Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this
away where my hogshead of wine is, or I’ll turn you out
of my kingdom: go to, carry this.                                  250

_Trin._ And this.

_Ste._ Ay, and this.

  _A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of
  dogs and hounds, and hunt them about, PROSPERO and ARIEL setting
  them on._

_Pros._ Hey, Mountain, hey!

_Ari._ Silver! there it goes, Silver!

_Pros._ Fury, fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark, hark!              255
                        [_Cal., Ste., and Trin. are driven out._

Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints
With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews
With aged cramps; and more pinch-spotted make them
Then pard or cat o’ mountain.

_Ari._                      Hark, they roar!

_Pros._ Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour                   260
Lie at my mercy all mine enemies:
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little
Follow, and do me service.    [_Exeunt._


  Notes: IV, 1.

  3: _a third_] _a thread_ Theobald. _the thread_ Williams conj.
  4: _who_] _whom_ Pope.
  7: _test_] F1. _rest_ F2 F3 F4.
  9: _off_] F2 F3 F4. _of_ F1.
  11: _do_] om. Pope.
  13: _gift_] Rowe. _guest_ Ff.
  14: _but_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
  25: _’tis_] _is_ Capell.
  30: _Phœbus’_] _Phœbus_ F1. _Phœdus_ F2 F3. _Phœduus_ F4.
  34: SCENE II. Pope.
  41: _vanity_] _rarity_ S. Walker conj.
  48: _no_?] _no_. Rowe.
  53: _abstemious_] _abstenious_ F1.
  60: SCENE III. A MASQUE. Pope.]
  _thy_] F1. _the_ F2 F3 F4.
  64: _pioned_] _pionied_ Warburton. _peonied_ Steevens.
  _twilled_] _tulip’d_ Rowe. _tilled_ Capell (Holt conj.). _lilied_
    Steevens.]
  66: _broom-groves_] _brown groves_ Hanmer.
  68: _pole-clipt_] _pale-clipt_ Hanmer.
  72: After this line Ff. have the stage direction, ’_Juno descends._’
  74: _her_] Rowe. _here_ Ff.
  83: _short-grass’d_] F3 F4. _short gras’d_ F1 F2. _short-grass_ Pope.
  96: _bed-right_] _bed-rite_ Singer.
  101: _High’st_] _High_ Pope.
  102: Enter JUNO] om. Ff.
  110: Cer.] Theobald. om. Ff.
  _foison_] F1 _and foison_ F2 F3 F4.
  114: _Spring_] _Rain_ Collier MS.
  119: _charmingly_] _charming lay_ Hanmer. _charming lays_ Warburton.
    _Harmoniously charming_ Steevens conj.
  121: _from their_] F1. _from all their_ F2 F3 F4.
  123: _wife_] F1 (var.). Rowe. _wise_ F1 (var.) F2 F3 F4.
  124: _Makes_] _make_ Pope.
  _sweet, now, silence_] _now, silence, sweet_ Hanmer.
  124: In Ff. the stage direction [Juno, &c. follows line 127.
    Capell made the change.
  128: _windring_] _winding_ Rowe. _wand’ring_ Steevens.
  129: _sedged_] _sedge_ Collier MS.
  136: _holiday_] _holly day_ F1 F2 F3. _holy-day_ F4.
  139: SCENE IV. Pope.
  143: _This is_] _This’_ (for This ’s) S. Walker conj.]
  _strange_] _most strange_ Hanmer.
  145: Ff put a comma after _anger_. Warburton omitted it.
  146: _do_] om. Pope. See note (XVI).
  151: _this_] F1. _their_ F2 F3 F4. _th’ air visions_ Warburton.
  156: _rack_] F3 F4. _racke_ F1 F2. _track_ Hanmer. _wreck_ Dyce
    (Malone conj.).
  163: _your_] F1 F2 F3. _you_ F4.
  164: _I thank thee, Ariel: come._] _I thank you:--Ariel, come._
    Theobald.
  169: _Lest_] F4. _Least_ F1 F2 F3.
  170: _Say again_] _Well, say again_ Capell.
  180: _furzes_] Rowe. _firzes_ Ff.
  181: _shins_] _skins_ Warburton conj. (note, V. 1. p. 87).
  182: _filthy-mantled_] _filthy mantled_ Ff. _filth-ymantled_
    Steevens conj.
  184: _feet_] _fear_ Spedding conj.
  190: _all, all_] _are all_ Malone conj.
  193: _them on_ Rowe. _on them_ Ff.
  Prospero ... invisible. Theobald, Capell. om. Ff.
  194: SCENE V. Pope.
  230: _Let’s alone_] _Let’s along_ Theobald. _Let it alone_ Hanmer.
    _Let ’t alone_ Collier. See note (XVII).
  246: _to apes_] om. _to_ Pope.
  255: Stage direction added by Theobald.
  256: _they_] F1 F3 F4. _thou_ F2.
  261: _Lie_] Rowe. _lies_ Ff.




ACT V.


SCENE I. _Before the cell of Prospero._

  _Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL._

_Pros._ Now does my project gather to a head:
My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time
Goes upright with his carriage. How’s the day?

_Ari._ On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,
You said our work should cease.

_Pros._                       I did say so,                          5
When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,
How fares the king and’s followers?

_Ari._                            Confined together
In the same fashion as you gave in charge,
Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,
In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell;                    10
They cannot budge till your release. The king,
His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly
Him that you term’d, sir, “The good old lord, Gonzalo;”             15
His tears run down his beard, like winter’s drops
From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works ’em,
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.

_Pros._            Dost thou think so, spirit?

_Ari._ Mine would, sir, were I human.

_Pros._                             And mine shall.                 20
Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,
Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art?
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,             25
Yet with my nobler reason ’gainst my fury
Do I take part: the rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel:                        30
My charms I’ll break, their senses I’ll restore,
And they shall be themselves.

_Ari._                      I’ll fetch them, sir.    [_Exit._

_Pros._ Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;
And ye that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him                         35
When he comes back; you demi-puppets that
By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid--                           40
Weak masters though ye be--I have bedimm’d
The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds.
And ’twixt the green sea and the azured vault
Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak                      45
With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory
Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck’d up
The pine and cedar: graves at my command
Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let ’em forth
By my so potent art. But this rough magic                           50
I here abjure; and, when I have required
Some heavenly music,--which even now I do,--
To work mine end upon their senses, that
This airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,                               55
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I’ll drown my book.                    [_Solemn music._

  _Re-enter ARIEL before: then ALONSO, with a frantic gesture,
  attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner,
  attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO: they all enter the circle
  which PROSPERO had made, and there stand charmed; which PROSPERO
  observing, speaks:_

A solemn air, and the best comforter
To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains,
Now useless, boil’d within thy skull! There stand,                  60
For you are spell-stopp’d.
Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,
Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine,
Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace;
And as the morning steals upon the night,                           65
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,
My true preserver, and a loyal sir
To him thou follow’st! I will pay thy graces                        70
Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly
Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter:
Thy brother was a furtherer in the act.
Thou art pinch’d for’t now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood,
You, brother mine, that entertain’d ambition,                       75
Expell’d remorse and nature; who, with Sebastian,--
Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,--
Would here have kill’d your king; I do forgive thee,
Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding
Begins to swell; and the approaching tide                           80
Will shortly fill the reasonable shore,
That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them
That yet looks on me, or would know me: Ariel,
Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell:
I will discase me, and myself present                               85
As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit;
Thou shalt ere long be free.

_ARIEL sings and helps to attire him._

    Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
    In a cowslip’s bell I lie;
    There I couch when owls do cry.                                 90
    On the bat’s back I do fly
    After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

_Pros._ Why, that’s my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee;             95
But yet thou shalt have freedom: so, so, so.
To the king’s ship, invisible as thou art:
There shalt thou find the mariners asleep
Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain
Being awake, enforce them to this place,                           100
And presently, I prithee.

_Ari._ I drink the air before me, and return
Or ere your pulse twice beat.    [_Exit._

_Gon._ All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement
Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us                        105
Out of this fearful country!

_Pros._                    Behold, sir king,
The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero:
For more assurance that a living prince
Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;
And to thee and thy company I bid                                  110
A hearty welcome.

_Alon._         Whether thou be’st he or no,
Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,
As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse
Beats, as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,
The affliction of my mind amends, with which,                      115
I fear, a madness held me: this must crave--
An if this be at all--a most strange story.
Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreat
Thou pardon me my wrongs. --But how should Prospero
Be living and be here?

_Pros._              First, noble friend,                          120
Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot
Be measured or confined.

_Gon._                 Whether this be
Or be not, I’ll not swear.

_Pros._                  You do yet taste
Some subtilties o’ the isle, that will not let you
Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all!                   125
[_Aside to Seb. and Ant._]
    But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded,
I here could pluck his Highness’ frown upon you,
And justify you traitors: at this time
I will tell no tales.

_Seb._ [_Aside_]    The devil speaks in him.

_Pros._                                    No.
For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother                     130
Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive
Thy rankest fault,--all of them; and require
My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,
Thou must restore.

_Alon._          If thou be’st Prospero,
Give us particulars of thy preservation;                           135
How thou hast met us here, who three hours since
Were wreck’d upon this shore; where I have lost--
How sharp the point of this remembrance is!--
My dear son Ferdinand.

_Pros._              I am woe for’t, sir.

_Alon._ Irreparable is the loss; and patience                      140
Says it is past her cure.

_Pros._                 I rather think
You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace
For the like loss I have her sovereign aid,
And rest myself content.

_Alon._                You the like loss!

_Pros._ As great to me as late; and, supportable                   145
To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker
Than you may call to comfort you, for I
Have lost my daughter.

_Alon._              A daughter?
O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,
The king and queen there! that they were, I wish                   150
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed
Where my son lies. When did you lose you daughter?

_Pros._ In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords
At this encounter do so much admire,
That they devour their reason, and scarce think                    155
Their eyes do offices of truth, their words
Are natural breath: but, howsoe’er you have
Been justled from your senses, know for certain
That I am Prospero, and that very duke
Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely                160
Upon this shore, where you were wreck’d, was landed,
To be the Lord on’t. No more yet of this;
For ’tis a chronicle of day by day,
Not a relation for a breakfast, nor
Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir;                        165
This cell’s my court: here have I few attendants,
And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in.
My dukedom since you have given me again,
I will requite you with as good a thing;
At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye                       170
As much as me my dukedom.

  _Here Prospero discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chess._

_Mir._ Sweet lord, you play me false.

_Fer._                              No, my dear’st love,
I would not for the world.

_Mir._ Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,
And I would call it fair play.

_Alon._                      If this prove                         175
A vision of the island, one dear son
Shall I twice lose.

_Seb._            A most high miracle!

_Fer._ Though the seas threaten, they are merciful;
I have cursed them without cause.               [_Kneels._

_Alon._                          Now all the blessings
Of a glad father compass thee about!                               180
Arise, and say how thou camest here.

_Mir._                             O, wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has such people in’t!

_Pros._                  ’Tis new to thee.

_Alon._ What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?             185
Your eld’st acquaintance cannot be three hours:
Is she the goddess that hath sever’d us,
And brought us thus together?

_Fer._                      Sir, she is mortal;
But by immortal Providence she’s mine:
I chose her when I could not ask my father                         190
For his advice, nor thought I had one. She
Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan,
Of whom so often I have heard renown,
But never saw before; of whom I have
Received a second life; and second father                          195
This lady makes him to me.

_Alon._                  I am hers:
But, O, how oddly will it sound that I
Must ask my child forgiveness!

_Pros._                      There, sir, stop:
Let us not burthen our remembrances with
A heaviness that’s gone.

_Gon._                 I have inly wept,                           200
Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you gods,
And on this couple drop a blessed crown!
For it is you that have chalk’d forth the way
Which brought us hither.

_Alon._                I say, Amen, Gonzalo!

_Gon._ Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue                 205
Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice
Beyond a common joy! and set it down
With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage
Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis,
And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife                           210
Where he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedom
In a poor isle, and all of us ourselves
When no man was his own.

_Alon._ [_to Fer. and Mir._] Give me your hands:
Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart
That doth not wish you joy!

_Gon._                    Be it so! Amen!                          215

  _Re-enter ARIEL, with the _Master_ and _Boatswain_ amazedly
  following._

O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us:
I prophesied, if a gallows were on land,
This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy,
That swear’st grace o’erboard, not an oath on shore?
Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?                      220

_Boats._ The best news is, that we have safely found
Our king and company; the next, our ship--
Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split--
Is tight and yare and bravely rigg’d, as when
We first put out to sea.

_Ari._ [_Aside to Pros._] Sir, all this service                    225
Have I done since I went.

_Pros._ [_Aside to Ari._] My tricksy spirit!

_Alon._ These are not natural events; they strengthen
From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither?

_Boats._ If I did think, sir, I were well awake,
I’ld strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,                    230
And--how we know not--all clapp’d under hatches;
Where, but even now, with strange and several noises
Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains,
And more diversity of sounds, all horrible,
We were awaked; straightway, at liberty;                           235
Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld
Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master
Capering to eye her:--on a trice, so please you,
Even in a dream, were we divided from them,
And were brought moping hither.

_Ari._ [_Aside to Pros._] Was’t well done?                         240

_Pros._ [_Aside to Ari._] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free.

_Alon._ This is as strange a maze as e’er men trod;
And there is in this business more than nature
Was ever conduct of: some oracle
Must rectify our knowledge.

_Pros._                   Sir, my liege,                           245
Do not infest your mind with beating on
The strangeness of this business; at pick’d leisure
Which shall be shortly, single I’ll resolve you,
Which to you shall seem probable, of every
These happen’d accidents; till when, be cheerful,                  250
And think of each thing well.
    [_Aside to Ari._] Come hither, spirit:
Set Caliban and his companions free;
Untie the spell. [_Exit Ariel._] How fares my gracious sir?
There are yet missing of your company
Some few odd lads that you remember not.                           255

  _Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO,
  in their stolen apparel._

_Ste._ Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man
take care for himself; for all is but fortune. --Coragio,
bully-monster, coragio!

_Trin._ If these be true spies which I wear in my head,
here’s a goodly sight.                                             260

_Cal._ O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed!
How fine my master is! I am afraid
He will chastise me.

_Seb._             Ha, ha!
What things are these, my lord Antonio?
Will money buy ’em?

_Ant._            Very like; one of them                           265
Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.

_Pros._ Mark but the badges of these men, my lords,
Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave,
His mother was a witch; and one so strong
That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,                  270
And deal in her command, without her power.
These three have robb’d me; and this demi-devil--
For he’s a bastard one--had plotted with them
To take my life. Two of these fellows you
Must know and own; this thing of darkness I                        275
Acknowledge mine.

_Cal._          I shall be pinch’d to death.

_Alon._ Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?

_Seb._ He is drunk now: where had he wine?

_Alon._ And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they
Find this grand liquor that hath gilded ’em?--                     280
How camest thou in this pickle?

_Trin._ I have been in such a pickle, since I saw you
last, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not
fear fly-blowing.

_Seb._ Why, how now, Stephano!                                     285

_Ste._ O, touch me not;--I am not Stephano, but a cramp.

_Pros._ You’ld be king o’ the isle, sirrah?

_Ste._ I should have been a sore one, then.

_Alon._ This is a strange thing as e’er I look’d on.
                                [_Pointing to Caliban._

_Pros._ He is as disproportion’d in his manners                    290
As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell;
Take with you your companions; as you look
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.

_Cal._ Ay, that I will; and I’ll be wise hereafter,
And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass                       295
Was I, to take this drunkard for a god,
And worship this dull fool!

_Pros._                Go to; away!

_Alon._ Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.

_Seb._ Or stole it, rather.    [_Exeunt Cal., Ste., and Trin._

_Pros._ Sir, I invite your Highness and your train                 300
To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest
For this one night; which, part of it, I’ll waste
With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it
Go quick away: the story of my life,
And the particular accidents gone by                               305
Since I came to this isle: and in the morn
I’ll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
Where I have hope to see the nuptial
Of these our dear-beloved solemnized;
And thence retire me to my Milan, where                            310
Every third thought shall be my grave.

_Alon._                              I long
To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely.

_Pros._               I’ll deliver all;
And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,
And sail so expeditious, that shall catch
Your royal fleet far off. [_Aside to Ari._] My Ariel, chick,       315
That is thy charge: then to the elements
Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near.
    [_Exeunt._


  Notes: V, 1.

  7: _together_] om. Pope.
  9: _all_] _all your_ Pope.
  10: _line-grove_] _lime-grove_ Rowe.
  11: _your_] F1 F2. _you_ F3 F4.
  15: _sir_] om. Pope.
  16: _run_] _runs_ F1.
  _winter’s_] _winter_ F4.]
  23: F1 F2 put a comma after _sharply_. F3 F4 omit it.
  24: _Passion_] _Passion’d_ Pope.
  26: _’gainst_] Pope. _gainst_ F1 F2. _against_ F3 F4.
  33: SCENE II. Pope.
  37: _green sour_] _green-sward_ Douce conj.
  46: _strong-based_] Rowe. _strong-bass’d_ Ff.
  58: SCENE III. Pope.
  60: _boil’d_] Pope. _boile_ F1 F2. _boil_ F3 F4.
  62: _Holy_] _Noble_ Collier MS.
  63: _show_] _shew_ Ff. _flow_ Collier MS.
  64: _fellowly_] _fellow_ Pope.
  68: _O_] _O my_ Pope. _O thou_ S. Walker conj.
  69: _sir_] _servant_ Collier MS.
  72: _Didst_] F3 F4. _Did_ F1 F2.
  74: _Sebastian. Flesh and blood,_] _Sebastian, flesh and blood._
    Theobald.
  75: _entertain’d_] _entertaine_ F1.
  76: _who_] Rowe. _whom_ Ff.
  82: _lies_] F3 F4. _ly_ F1 F2.
  83: _or_] _e’er_ Collier MS.
  84: Theobald gives as stage direction “Exit Ariel and returns
    immediately.”
  88: _suck_] _lurk_ Theobald.
  90: _couch_] _crowch_ F3 F4.
  [Capell punctuates _There I couch: when owls do cry,_]
  92: _summer_] _sun-set_ Theobald.
  106: _Behold,_] _lo!_ Pope.
  111: _Whether thou be’st_] _Where thou beest_ Ff. _Be’st thou_ Pope.
    _Whe’r thou be’st_ Capell.
  112: _trifle_] _devil_ Collier MS.
  119: _my_] _thy_ Collier MS.
  124: _not_] F3 F4. _nor_ F1 F2.
  132: _fault_] _faults_ F4.
  136: _who_] F2 F3 F4. _whom_ F1.
  145: _and,_] _sir, and_ Capell.
  _supportable_] F1 F2. _insupportable_ F3 F4. _portable_ Steevens.
  148: _my_] _my only_ Hanmer.
  _A daughter_] _Only daughter_ Hanmer. _Daughter_ Capell.
  156: _eyes_] F1. _eye_ F2 F3 F4.
  _their_] _these_ Capell.]
  172: SCENE IV. Pope.
  Here Prospero discovers...] Ff. SCENE opens to the entrance of
    the cell. Here Prospero discovers... Theobald. Cell opens and
    discovers... Capell.]
  172: _dear’st_] _dearest_ Ff.
  179: [Kneels] Theobald.
  191: _advice_] F4. _advise_ F1 F2 F3.
  199, 200: _remembrances with_] _remembrance with_ Pope.
    _remembrances With_ Malone.
  213: _When_] _Where_ Johnson conj.]
  _and_] om. Capell.
  216: SCENE V. Pope.
  _sir, look, sir_] _sir, look_ F3 F4.]
  _is_] _are_ Pope.]
  221: _safely_] _safe_ F3 F4.
  230: _of sleep_] _a-sleep_ Pope.
  234: _more_] Rowe. _mo_ F1 F2. _moe_ F3 F4.
  236: _her_] Theobald (Thirlby conj.). _our_ Ff.
  242-245: Given to Ariel in F2 F3 F4.
  247: _leisure_] F1. _seisure_ F2. _seizure_ F3 F4.
  248: _Which shall be shortly, single_] Pope. _(which shall be
    shortly single)_ Ff.
  253: [Exit Ariel] Capell.
  256: SCENE VI. Pope.
  258: _Coragio_] _corasio_ F1.
  268: _mis-shapen_] _mis-shap’d_ Pope.
  271: _command, without her power._] _command. Without her power,_
    anon. conj.
  _without_] _with all_ Collier MS.
  280: _liquor_] _’lixir_ Theobald.
  282-284: Printed as verse in Ff.
  289: _This is_] F1 F2. _’Tis_ F3 F4.]
  _e’er I_] _I ever_ Hanmer.
  [Pointing to Caliban.] Steevens.]
  299: [Exeunt... Trin.] Capell.
  308: _nuptial_] _nuptiall_ F1. _nuptials_ F2 F3 F4.
  309: See note (XVIII).




EPILOGUE.

SPOKEN BY PROSPERO.

Now my charms are all o’erthrown,
And what strength I have’s mine own,
Which is most faint: now, ’tis true,
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,                                       5
Since I have my dukedom got,
And pardon’d the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell;
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands:                                   10
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair,                                           15
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon’d be,
Let your indulgence set me free.                                    20


  Notes: Epilogue.

  EPILOGUE ... PROSPERO.] advancing, Capell.]
  1: _Now_] _Now, now_ F3 F4.
  3: _now_] _and now_ Pope.
  13: _Now_] _For now_ Pope.




NOTES.


NOTE I.

I. 1. 15. _What cares these roarers._ This grammatical inaccuracy, which
escaped correction in the later folios, probably came from Shakespeare’s
pen. Similar cases occur frequently, especially when the verb precedes
its nominative. For example, _Tempest_, IV. 1. 262, ‘Lies at my mercy
all mine enemies,’ and _Measure for Measure_, II. 1. 22, ‘What knows the
laws, &c.’ We correct it in those passages where the occurrence of a
vulgarism would be likely to annoy the reader. In the mouth of a
Boatswain it can offend no one. We therefore leave it.


NOTE II.

I. 1. 57-59. _Mercy on us!--we split, &c._ It may be doubtful whether
the printer of the first folio intended these broken speeches to express
‘a confused noise within.’ Without question such was the author’s
meaning. Rowe, however, and subsequent editors, printed them as part of
Gonzalo’s speech. Capell was the first editor who gave the true
arrangement.


NOTE III.

I. 2. 173. _princesses._ See Mr Sidney Walker’s _Shakespeare’s
Versification_, p. 243 sqq. ’The plurals of substantives ending in _s_,
in certain instances, in _se_, _ss_, _ce_, and sometimes _ge_, ... are
found without the usual addition of _s_ or _es_, in pronunciation at
least, although in many instances the plural affix is added in printing,
where the metre shows that it is not to be pronounced.’

In this and other instances, we have thought it better to trust to the
ear of the reader for the rhythm than to introduce an innovation in
orthography which might perplex him as to the sense. The form
‘princesses,’ the use of which in Shakespeare’s time was doubted by one
of our correspondents, is found in the _History of King Leir_.

Rowe’s reading ‘princes’ might be defended on the ground that the
sentiment is general, and applicable to royal children of both sexes; or
that Sir Philip Sidney, in the first book of the _Arcadia_, calls Pamela
and Philoclea ‘princes.’


NOTE IV.

I. 2. 298. The metre of this line, as well as of lines 301, 302, is
defective, but as no mode of correction can be regarded as completely
satisfactory we have in accordance with our custom left the lines as
they are printed in the Folio. The defect, indeed, in the metre of line
298 has not been noticed except by Hanmer, who makes a line thus:

  ‘Do so, and after two days I’ll discharge thee.’

Possibly it ought to be printed thus:

              ‘Do so; and
  After two days
  I will discharge thee.’

There is a broken line, also of four syllables, 253 of the same scene,
another of seven, 235.

There is no reason to doubt that the _words_ are as Shakespeare wrote
them, for, although the action of the play terminates in less than four
hours (I. 2. 240 and V. 1. 186), yet Ariel’s ministry is not to end till
the voyage to Naples shall be over. Prospero, too, repeats his promise,
and marks his contentment by further shortening the time of servitude,
‘within two days,’ I. 2. 420. Possibly ‘Invisible’ (301) should have a
line to itself. Words thus occupying a broken line acquire a marked
emphasis.

But the truth is that in dialogue Shakespeare’s language passes so
rapidly from verse to prose and from prose to verse, sometimes even
hovering, as it were, over the confines, being rhythmical rather than
metrical, that all attempts to give regularity to the metre must be made
with diffidence and received with doubt.


NOTE V.

I. 2. 377, 378:

  _Courtsied when you have and kiss’d_
  _The wild waves whist._

This punctuation seems to be supported by what Ferdinand says (391,
392):

  ‘The music crept by me upon the waters,
  Allaying both their fury and my passion, &c.’

At the end of the stanza we have printed _Hark, hark! ... The watch-dogs
bark_ as that part of the burthen which ‘sweet sprites bear.’ The other
part is borne by distant watch-dogs.


NOTE VI.

I. 2. 443. _I fear you have done yourself some wrong._ See this phrase
used in a similar sense, _Measure for Measure_, I. 11. 39.


NOTE VII.

II. 1. 27. _Which, of he or Adrian._ ‘Of’ is found in the same
construction, _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, III. 2. 336,

  ‘Now follow if thou darest to try whose right,
  Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.’


NOTE VIII.

II. 1. 157. _Of its own kind._ There is no doubt, as Dr Guest has shewn,
that ‘it,’ which is the reading of the 1st and 2nd folios, was commonly
used as a genitive in Shakespeare’s time, as it is still in some
provincial dialects. ‘Its,’ however, was coming into use. One instance
occurs in this play, I. 11. 95, ‘in its contrary.’


NOTE IX.

II. 1. 241. _she that from whom._ Mr Spedding writes: ‘The received
emendation is not satisfactory to me. I would rather read, “She
that--From whom? All were sea-swallow’d &c., i.e. from whom should she
have note? The report from Naples will be that all were drowned. We
shall be the only survivors.” The break in the construction seems to me
characteristic of the speaker. But you must read the whole speech to
feel the effect.’


NOTE X.

II. 1. 249-251. All editors except Mr Staunton have printed in italics
(or between inverted commas) only as far as ‘_Naples?_’, but as ‘_keep_’
is printed with a small k in the folios, they seem to sanction the
arrangement given in our text.


NOTE XI.

II. 1. 267. _Ay, sir; where lies that? if ’twere a kibe._ Mr Singer and
Mr Dyce have changed ‘’twere’ to ‘it were’ for the sake of the metre.
But then the first part of the line must be read with a wrong emphasis.
The proper emphasis clearly falls on the first, third, and fifth
syllables, ‘Aý, sir; whére lies thát?’ See Preface.


NOTE XII.

II. 2. 165. Before ‘here; bear my bottle’ Capell inserts a stage
direction [_To Cal._], but it appears from III. 2. 62, that Trinculo was
entrusted with the office of bottle-bearer.


NOTE XIII.

III. 1. 15. _Most busy lest, when I do it._ As none of the proposed
emendations can be regarded as certain, we have left the reading of F1,
though it is manifestly corrupt. The spelling ‘doe’ makes Mr Spedding’s
conjecture ‘idlest’ for ‘I doe it’ more probable.


NOTE XIV.

III. 3. 17. The stage direction, which we have divided into two parts,
is placed all at once in the folios after ‘as when they are fresh’
[Solemne and strange Musicke; and Prosper on the top (invisible:) Enter
... depart].

Pope transferred it to follow Sebastian’s words, ‘I say, to night: no
more.’


NOTE XV.

III. 3. 48. _Each putter out of five for one._ See Beaumont and
Fletcher, _The Noble Gentleman_, I. 1. (Vol. II. p. 261, ed. Moxon):
‘The return will give you five for one.’ MARINE is about to travel.


NOTE XVI.

IV. 1. 146. _You do look, my son, in a moved sort._ Seymour suggests a
transposition: ‘you do, my son, look in a moved sort.’ This line however
can scarcely have come from Shakespeare’s pen. Perhaps the writer who
composed the Masque was allowed to join it, as best he might, to
Shakespeare’s words, which re-commence at ‘Our revels now are ended,’
&c.


NOTE XVII.

IV. 1. 230. _Let’s alone._ See Staunton’s “Shakespeare,” Vol. I. p. 81,
note (b).


NOTE XVIII.

V. 1. 309. _Of these our dear-beloved solemnized._ The Folios have
‘belov’d’; a mode of spelling, which in this case is convenient as
indicating the probable rhythm of the verse. We have written ‘beloved,’
in accordance with the general rule mentioned in the Preface.

‘Solemnized’ occurs in four other verse passages of Shakespeare. It is
three times to be accented ‘sólemnized’ and once (_Love’s Labour’s
Lost_, II. 1. 41) ‘solémnized.’

       *       *       *       *       *
           *       *       *       *
       *       *       *       *       *

Sources:

The editors’ Preface (e-text 23041) discusses the 17th- and
18th-century editions in detail; the newer (19th-century) editions
are simply listed by name. The following editions may appear in the
Notes. All inset text is quoted from the Preface.

  Folios:
  F1 1623; F2 (no date given); F3 1663; F4 1685.
    “The five plays contained in this volume occur in the first Folio
    in the same order, and ... were there printed for the first time.”

  Early editions:
  Rowe 1709
  Pope 1715
    “Pope was the first to indicate the _place_ of each new scene;
    as, for instance, _Tempest_, I. 1. ‘On a ship at sea.’ He also
    subdivided the scenes as given by the Folios and Rowe, making
    a fresh scene whenever a new character entered--an arrangement
    followed by Hanmer, Warburton, and Johnson. For convenience of
    reference to these editions, we have always recorded the
    commencement of Pope’s scenes.”
  Theobald 1733
  Hanmer (“Oxford edition”) 1744
  Warburton 1747
  Johnson 1765
  Capell 1768; _also Capell’s annotated copy of F2_
  Steevens 1773
  Malone 1790
  Reed 1803

  Later editions:
  Singer, Knight, Cornwall, Collier, Phelps, Halliwell, Dyce, Staunton

  Dryden:
    “_The Tempest_ was altered by Dryden and D’Avenant, and published
    as _The Tempest; or the Enchanted Island_, in 1669. We mark the
    emendations derived from it: ‘Dryden’s version.’”


Errors and inconsistencies:

  _Re-enter Boatswain._
    [printed BOATSWAIN in small capitals]
  _Enter _Ariel_._
    [printed “Ariel” in lower case]
  Where my son lies. When did you lose you daughter?
    [Text unchanged: error for “your”?]

  [Text-critical notes]

  I. 2. 135: _to ’t_] om. Steevens (Farmer conj.).
    [Here and elsewhere in the volume, body text has unspaced “to’t”
    while line notes have spaced “to ’t”.]
  I. 2. 202: _o’ the_] _of_ Pope.
    [Text unchanged: body text is capitalized “O’ the”]
  II. 1. 88: _Ay._] I. Ff. _Ay?_ Pope.
    [Text unchanged: apparent error for italic _I._]
  III. 3. 17: Prospero above]
    [Text unchanged: stage direction is after l. 19]

  [Endnotes]

  I: I. 1. 15.  [I. 1. 16]
  V: 377, 378.  [376-377]
  XVI: IV. 1. 146  [IV. 1. 147]