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! 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, GON- ZALO, and Others, from the Cabin. Alon. Good boatswain, have a care. master? Play the men.
Boats. I pray now, keep below.
Ant. Where is the master, boatswain?
Boats. Do you not hear him? You mar our labour.
cabins: you do assist the storm.
Gon. Nay, good, be patient. Boats. When the sea is.
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, 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 [Exit.
Boats. Down with the top-mast: 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.
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 poxo' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent noisemaker, 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.
Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold. Set her two courses: off to sea again; lay her off.
Enter Mariners, wet. Mar. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! [Exeunt. Boats. What! must our mouths be cold? Gon. The king and prince at prayers! let us assist them. For our case is as theirs.
Seb. I am out of patience.
Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunk- ards.-
This wide-chapp'd rascal,—would, thou might'st lie drowning, The washing of ten tides!
He'll be hanged yet, Though every drop of water swear against it, And gape at wid'st to glut him. [A confused noise within.] Mercy on us!We split, we split !-Farewell, my wife and children!— Farewell, brother!-We split, we split, we split !— Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow: meAnt. Let's all sink with the king. thinks, he hath no drowning mark upon him; his Seb. Let's take leave of him. complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good fate, Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea to his hanging: make the rope of his destiny our cable, for an acre of barren ground; long heath, brown furze, for our own doth little advantage. If he be not born any thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain to be hanged, our case is miserable. [Exeunt. die a dry death.
SCENE II.-The Island: before the cell of PROSPERO.
Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA.
Mira. 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 heat, Dashes the fire out. O! I have suffer'd With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her, Dash'd all to pieces. O! the cry did knock Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd. Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er
It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and The fraughting souls within her.
Be collected: No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart, There's no harm done.
I have done nothing but in care of thee, (Of thee, my dear one! thee, my daughter!) who Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing Of whence I am; nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father.
Did never meddle with my thoughts.
Pro. I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, And pluck my magic garment from me.-So:
[Lays down his robe. Lie there my art.-Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such prevision in mine art
So safely order'd, that there is no soul
No, not so much perdition as an hair, Betid to any creature in the vessel
O! my heart bleeds To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther. Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Antonio,-
pray thee, mark me,-that a brother should
Be so perfidious !—he whom, next thyself,
Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put The manage of my state; as, at that time, Through all the signiories it was the first, (And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed In dignity) and, for the liberal arts, Without a parallel: those being all my study, The government I cast upon my brother, And to my state grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle- Dost thou attend me?
Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, whom t'advance, and whom To trash for over-topping, new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd them, Or else new form'd them; having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk, And suck'd my verdure out on't.-Thou attend'st not. Mira. O good sir! I do. Pro. pray thee, mark me. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit To closeness, and the bettering of my mind
With that, which but by being so retired O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother Awak'd an evil nature and my trust, Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood, in its contrary as great As my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit, He being thus loaded, The hour's now come, A confidence sans bound. The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; Not only with what my revenue yielded, Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember But what my power might else exact,-like one, A time before we came unto this cell? Who having to untruth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not Out three years old.
To credit his own lie,-he did believe
He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution, And executing th' outward face of royalty, With all prerogative :-hence his ambition Growing, Dost thou hear?
Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Mira. Pro. To have no screen between this part he play'd, And him he play'd it for, he needs will be Absolute Milan. Me, poor man!-my library Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties He thinks me now incapable; confederates (So dry he was for sway) with 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!) To most ignoble stooping. Mira. O the heavens ! Pro. Mark his condition, and th' event; then tell me,
If this might be a brother. Mira. I should sin To think but nobly of my grandinother: Good wombs have borne bad sons. Pro.
Now the condition. This king of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Which was, that he in lieu o' the premises,- Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,- Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan, With all the honours, on my brother: whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight, Fated to the practise, did Antonio open
The gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying self. Mira.
Alack, for pity! I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then, Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint,
That wrings mine eyes to 't.
Hear a little farther, And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon's; without the which this story Were most impertinent. Mira.
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, So dear the love my people bore me, nor set A mark so bloody on the business; but With colours fairer painted their foul ends. In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,
Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepar'd A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively had 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, Did us but loving wrong.
Thou wast, that did preserve me. Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue.
Pro. By Providence divine. Some food we had, and some fresh water, that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity, (who being then appointed Master of this design) did give us; with Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, Which since have steaded much so, of his gentleness, Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me, From my own library, with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.
Know thus far forth.- By accident most strange, bountiful fortune, Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies Brought to this shore; and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon
A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions. Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dulness, And give it way :-I know thou canst not choose.— [MIRANDA sleeps. Come away, servant, come! I am ready now. Approach, my Ariel: come!
Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee? Ari. To every article.
I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flam'd amazement: sometimes, I'd divide, And burn in many places; on the topmast, The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, Then meet, and join. Jove's 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, Yea, his dread trident shake.
Pro. 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, Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair) Was the first man that leap'd; cried, "Hell is empty, And all the devils are here."
[Puts on his robe again. 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;
Pro. Now I arise:- Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arriv'd; and here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princes can, that have more time For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.
Whom, with a charm joined to their suffer'd labour, I have left asleep and for the rest o' the fleet
Mira. Heavens thank you for 't! And now, I pray Which I dispers'd, they all have met again, you, sir,
And all upon the Mediterranean float,
From what a torment I did free thee?
Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!
Mira. The strangeness of your story put [Waking. Heaviness in me. Shake it off. Come on: We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
Pro. Thou dost; and think'st it much, to tread the ooze Yields us kind answer. Of the salt deep,
To run upon the sharp wind of the north,
To do me business in the veins o' th' earth, When it is bak'd with frost.
Thou hast. Where was she born?
speak; tell me.
Ari. Sir, in Argier.
Pro. O! was she so? I must,
Once in a month, recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch, Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did, They would not take her life. Is not this true? Ari. Ay, sir.
Pro. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors: thou, my slave As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant: And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers, And in her most unmitigable rage, Into a cloven pine; within which rift Imprison'd, thou didst painfully remain A dozen
years; within which space she died,
And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island (Save for a son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp, hag-born) not honour'd with A human shape.
Pro. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban, Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st What torment I did find thee in: thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears. It was a torment To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not again undo: it was mine art, When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape
I do not love to look on. Pro. But, as 'tis, We cannot miss him: he does make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices That profit us.-What ho! slave! Caliban! Thou earth, thou! speak.
Cal. [Within.] There's wood enough within. Pro. Come forth, I say: there's other business for thee. Come, thou tortoise! when?
Re-enter ARIEL, like a water-nymph.
Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear.
My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! 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!
Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.
Cal. I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st here first, Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st
Water with berries in't; and teach me how
To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle,
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fertile. Cursed be I that did so!-All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you; For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me, In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o' th' island.
Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness, I have us'd thee,
Which any print of goodness will not take, Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known; but thy vile race, Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures Could not abide to be with: therefore wast thou Deservedly confin'd into this rock,
Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison.
Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you, For learning me your language! Pro.
Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best, To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice? If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps; Fill all thy bones with aches; make thee roar, That beasts shall tremble at thy din.
I must obey his art is of such power, It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him.
Pro. So, slave; hence! [Exit CALIBAN. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDI- NAND following. ARIEL'S Song,
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands: Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd The wild waves whist,
Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Hark, hark!
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticlere Cry, cock-a-doodle-doo.
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, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury, and my passion, With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather :-but 'tis gone.- No, it begins again.
ARIEL 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 Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell. Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father.
This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes.-I hear it now above me.
[Music above. Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance And say, what thou seest yond'. Mira.
What is't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form :-but 'tis a spirit.
Pro. No, wench: it eats and sleeps, and hath such
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 might'st call him A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows, And strays about to find 'em.
I might call him A thing divine, for nothing natural I ever saw so noble. Pro. It goes on, I see, [Aside. As my soul prompts it.-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Within two days for this.
Fer. Most sure, the goddess [Seeing her. On whom these airs attend!-Vouchsafe, my prayer May know if you remain upon this island, [Kneels. And that you will some good instruction give, How I may bear me here: my prime request, Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder! If you be maid, or no? Mira.
My language! heavens! [Rises. I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken.
How! the best? 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, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The king, my father, wreck'd. Mira. Alack, for mercy! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of Milan, And his brave son, being twain. Pro. The duke of Milan, And his more braver daughter, could control thee, If now 'twere fit to do't.-[Aside.] At the first sight They have chang'd eyes:-delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this!-[To him.] A word, good sir; I fear, you have done yourself some wrong: a word. Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first That e'er I sigh'd for. Pity move my father To be inclin'd my way!
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