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the Publishers of the present Edition to attain; for they are fully aware, that upon this alone the permanent reputation of their book must depend.

The standard by which they are willing that their pretensions should be tried, is the well-known edition produced under the inspection of Johnson, Reed, and Steevens, which, being universally admitted to be the most correct that has yet appeared, they adopted as the text from which their own has been printed. They will not deny, that, in executing their task, they were sometimes, though infrequently, struck with instances, in which they ventured to think the punctuation might admit of improvement; but the temptations to innovation thence arising, they uniformly resisted. They have themselves no name; and they doubt whether the sanction of any modern name would attach as much confidence as it would take away, from a work that should deviate, even in a small degree, from the labour's of those enlightened commentators.




ALONSO, king of Naples.
SEBASTIAN, his brother.
PROSPERO, the rightful duke of Milan.

ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping duke of Milan.

FERDINAND, Son to the king of Naples.
GONZALO, an honest old counsellor of Naples.


MIRANDA, daughter to Prospero.

ARIEL, an airy spirit.





CALIBAN, a savage and deformed slave.

TRINCULO, a jester.

STEPHANO, a drunken butler.

Master of a ship, Boatswain, and Mariners.


SCENE I.-On a ship at sea.
A storm with thunder and lightning.

Enter a Ship-master and a Boatswain.
Master. Boatswain,-
Boats. Here, master: What cheer?
Master. Good: Speak to the mariners: fall
to't yarely,
or we run ourselves aground: be-
stir, bestir.

SCENE,-The sea, with a ship; afterwards an uninhabited island.

Enter Mariners.

Boats. Heigh, my hearts; cheerly, cheerly, my hearts; yare, yare: Take in the top-sail; Tend to the master's whistle.-Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough!



Other spirits attending on Prospero.


Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the 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; keep your cabins: you do assist the storm.

Gon. Nay, good, be patient.

Boats. When the sea is. Hence! What care these 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 SCENE II.-The Island: before the Cell of elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we shall 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. 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 is miserable. [Exeunt.


Re-enter Boatswain.

Boats. Down with the top-mast; yare; lower, lower; bring her to try with main-course.-4 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 pox o' your throat! you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!

Boats. Work you, then.

Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, lent noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

Gon. I'll warrant him from drowning; tho' the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as leaky as an unstaunched wench.

Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; set her two courses; off to sea again, lay her off.

Ant. Let's all sink with the king.
Seb. Let's take leave of him.

Enter Mariners wet.

Mar. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all
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

This wide-chapped rascal ;--'Would thou might'st
lie drowning,
The washing of ten tides !

Gon. 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 child-
dren!—Farewell, brother!-We split, we split,
we split!

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 inso-Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father.

Mira. More to know

Did never meddle with my thoughts.

Pro. 'Tis time


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. [Exit.

Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, you


Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them:
The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking

But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered
With those 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 freighting souls within her,

Pro. Be collected;

No more amazement: tell your piteous heart,
There's no harm done.

Mira. O, woe the day!
Pro. No harm.

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That my remembrance warrants: Had I not
Four or five women once, that tended me?
Pro. Thou had'st, and more, Miranda: But
how is it,

That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou

In the dark backward and abysm of time?
If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here, thou may'st.,
Mira. But that I do not.

Pro. Twelve years since, Miranda, twelve
years since,

Thy father was the duke of Milan, and
A prince of power.


Mira. Sir, are not you my father?

Pro. 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
A princess;-no worse issued.

But blessedly holp hither.

Mira. O, my heart bleeds

To think of the teen that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance! Please you, further.

Pro. My brother, and thy uncle call'd An-

I pray thee, mark me,—that a brother should
Be so perfidious!-he, whom next thyself
Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put
The manage of my state; as, at that time,
Through all the 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?

Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Pro. To have no screen between this part he play'd

Mira. O, the heavens !

And him he played it for, he needs will be

What foul play had we, that we came from Absolute Milan: Me, poor man!-my library thence? Was dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties

Mira. Sir, most heedfully.

Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them; whom to advance, and whom
To trash for over-topping; new created
The creatures that were mine; I say, or chang'd

Or else new form'd them: having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts

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 at-
tend'st not:

Or blessed was't, we did?

Pro. Both, both, my girl:

He thinks me now incapable: confederates

By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd (So dry he was for sway) with the king of Naples,


To give him annual tribute, do him homage;
Subject his coronet to the crown, and bend
The dukedom, yet unbow'd, (alas! poor Milan !)
To most ignoble stooping.

Mira. O, the heavens!

Pro. Mark his condition, and the event; then tell me,

If this might be a brother.

Mira. I should sin


pray thee, mark me.

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Who having, unto truth, by telling of it,
Made such a sinner of his memory,
To credit his own lie,-he did believe
He was the duke; out of the substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative:-Hence his ambition
Growing,-Dost hear?

To think but nobly of my grandmother :
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 purpose, 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.

Pro. Hear a little further,

And then I'll bring thee to the present business, Which now's upon us; without the which, this story

Were most impertinent.

Mira. O, good sir, I do.

Pro. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all de-

To closeness, and the bettering of my mind
With that, which, but by being so retir'd,

Mira. Wherefore did they not

That hour destroy us?

Pro. Well demanded, wench;

My tale provokes that question. Dear, they

durst not;

(So dear the love my people bore me) nor set
A mark so bloody on the business; but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark;
Bore us some leagues to sea; where they 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.

Mira. Alack! what trouble

Was I then to you!

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,

Pro. O! a cherubim


Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-out-running were not: The fire, and

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.

Mira. How came we ashore?

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To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curl'd clouds: to thy strong bidding task
Ariel, and all his quality.

Pro. Hast thou, spirit,

Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Ari. To every article.

Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way; I know thou can'st not
[Miranda sleeps.
Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;
Approach, my Ariel; come.

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 top-mast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the pre-

Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune Seem'd 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?

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I have left asleep: and for the rest o' the fleet,
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again;
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples;
Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd,

Enter ARIEL.

Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I And his great person perish.
Pro. Ariel, thy charge


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