Cal. Thou shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee. Ste. How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou 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!

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
shew him

Where the quick freshes are.

Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger: interrupt the monster one word further, and, by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out of doors, and make a stockfish of thee.

Trin. Why, what did I? I did nothing; I'll go

further off.

Ste. Didst thou not say, he lied? Ari. Thou liest.

First to possess his books; for without them
He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command: they all do hate him,
As rootedly as I: Burn but his books;
He has brave utensils (for so he calls them),
Which, when he has a house, he 'll deck withal.
And that most deeply to consider, is
The beauty of his daughter; he himself
Calls her a nonpareil: I ne'er saw woman,
But only Sycorax my dam, and she;
But she as far surpasseth Sycorax,

As greatest does least.

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. 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 this taborer; he lays it on. Trin. Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano.

[Exeunt.

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 attached with weariness, 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 drowned, Whom thus we stray to find: and the sea mocks Our frustrate search on land: Well, let him go. Ant. I am right glad that he's so out of hope. [Aside to SEBASTIAN. Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose That you resolved to effect.

Seb.

The next advantage Will we take thoroughly.

Ant.

Let it be to-night;

Who would believe that there were mountaineers Dew-lapped like bulls, whose throats had hanging at them

Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find,

Each putter-out on five for one, will bring us
Good warrant of.

Alon. I will stand to, and feed,
Although my last: no matter, since I feel
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, aud 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 Hath caused to belch up; and on this island Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad; [Seeing ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, &c., draw their swords.

And even with such like valour, men hang and drown

Are ministers of fate; the elements,

Of whom your swords are tempered, may as well Wound the loud winds, or with bemocked-at stabs

Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish

One dowle that's in my plume; my fellow-mini

sters

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;
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 crea-
tures,

Against your peace: Thee, of thy son, Alonso,
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 wrath to guard you
from

(Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads) is nothing, but heart's sorrow, And a clear life ensuing.

He vanishes in thunder: then, to soft music, enter the Shapes again, and dance with mops and mowes, and carry out the table.

Pro. Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou
[Aside.
Performed, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring:
Of my instruction hast thou nothing 'bated,
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;
And in these fits I leave them, whilst I visit
Young Ferdinand (who they suppose is drowned),
And his and my loved darling.

[Exit PROSPERO, from above. Gon. I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand you

In this strange stare?

Alon. O, it is monstrous! monstrous! 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' the ooze is bedded; and 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.

SCENE I.-Before PROSPEKO's Cell. Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA. Pro. If I have too austerely punished you, Your compensation makes amends; for I Have given you here a thread of mine own life, Or that for which I live; whom once again I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations 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, And make it halt behind her.

I do believe it,

Fer. Against an oracle.

Pro. Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition Worthily purchased, take my daughter: But If thou dost break her virgin knot before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy rite be ministered, No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall To make this contract grow: but barren hate, Sour-eyed disdain, and discord, shall bestrew 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. As I hope

Fer.

For quiet days, fair issue, and long life,
With such love as 't is now; the murkiest den,
The most opportune place, the strongest suggestion
Our worser Genius can, shall never melt
Mine honour into lust; to take away
The edge of that day's celebration,

Iris. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease; The turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, And flat meads thatched with stover, them to keep; Thy banks with peonied and lilied brims, Which spongy April at thy 'hest betrims,

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, steril, and rocky-hard,
Where thou thyself dost air: The queen o' the sky,
Whose watery arch, and messenger, am I,
Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign

Spirits, which, by mine art

I have from their confines called to enact My present fancies.

Fer.

Let me live here ever;

So rare a wondered father, and a wife,
Make this place Paradise.

[JUNO and CERES whisper, and send IRIS on
employment.

Pro.

Sweet now,

silence;

Juno and Ceres whisper seriously;
There's something else to do: hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marred.

Iris. You nymphs, called Naiads, of the wan

dering brooks,

With your sedged crowns and ever harmless looks, Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land 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 sun-burned sicklemen, of August weary,
Come hither from the furrow, and be merry;
Make holy-day: 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.