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I pray

you, sir,

Absolute Milan. Me, poor man !-my library I prize above my dukedom.
Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties Mira.

Would I might
He thinks me now incapable; confederates

But ever see that man! So dry he was for sway) with the king of Naples, Pro. Now I arise :- [Puts on his robe again. To give him annual tribute, do him homage,

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. | Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend

Here in this island we arriv'd; and here
The dukedom, yet anbow'd, (alas, poor Milan !) Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
To most ignoble stooping.

Than other princess can, that have more time
O the heavens !

For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.
Pro. Mark his condition, and th' event; then tell me, Mira. Heavens thank you for’t! And now,
If this might be a brother.
I should sin

For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason
To think but nobly of my grandmother :

For raising this sea-storm ? Good wombs have borne bad sons.


Know thas far forth. Pro.

Now the condition. By accident most strange, bountiful fortune,
This king of Naples, being an enemy

Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Brought to this shore; and by my prescience
Which was, that he in lieu o' the premises,

I find my zenith doth depend upon
Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,- A most auspicious star, whose influence
Should presently extirpate me and mine

If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes
Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan,

Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions. With all the honours, on my brother : whereon, Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness, A treacherous army levied, one midnight,

And give it way :- I know thou canst not choose.Fated to the practise,' did Antonio open

(MIRANDA sleeps. The gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness, Come away, servant, come! I am ready now. The ministers for the purpose hurried thence

Approach, my Ariel i come!
Me, and thy crying self.

Enter ARIEL.
Alack, for pity!

Ari. All hail, great master; grave sir, hail. I come I. not rememb’ring how I cried out then,

To answer thy best pleasure; be 't to fly, Will cry it o'er again : it is a hint,

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride That wrings mine eyes to 't.

On the curl'd clouds : to thy strong bidding task Pro.

Hear a little farther, Ariel, and all his quality. And then I'll bring thee to the present business


Hast thou, spirit, Which now's upon 's; without the which this story Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee? Were most impertinent.

Ari. To every article. Mira.

Wherefore did they not I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak, That hour destroy us?

Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, Pro.

Well demanded, wench : I flam’d amazement: sometimes, I'd divide, My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, And burn in many places; on the topmast, So dear the love my people bore me, nor set

The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, A mark so bloody on the business ; but

Then meet, and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursorg With colours fairer painted their foul ends.

O’ the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,

And sight-outrunning were not : the fire, and cracks Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepar'd Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune A rotten carcass of a boat,» not rigg’d,

Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble, Sor tackle. sail, nor mast; the very rats

Yea, his dread trident shake. Instinctively hads quit it: there they hoist us,


My brave spirit! To cry to the sea that roard to us ; to sigh

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,

Would not infect his reason? Did us but loving wrong.


Not a soul
Alack! what trouble But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd

Some tricks of desperation. All, but mariners,
0! a cherubim

Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, Thoa wast, that did preserve me.

Thou didst smile, Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand, Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair) Then I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Was the first man that leap'd; cried, “ Hell is empty C'Hier my burden groan’d; which rais'd in me And all the devils are here." An undergoing stomach, to bear up



my spirit! Azanist what should ensue.

But was not this nigh shore ?
How came we ashore ? Ari.

Close by, my master. Pro. By Providence divine.

Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe? Some food we had, and some fresh water, that


Not a hair perish’d; A mble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
Out of his charity, (who being then appointed But fresher than before : and, as thou bad'st me,
Master of this design) did give us ; with

In troops I have dispers’d them 'bout the isle.
Beh garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, The king's son have I landed by himself,
hich since have steaded much : so, of his gentleness, Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs
Awwing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,

In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
my own library, with volumes that

His arms in this sad knot. purpose : in f. e. ' butt : in f e. 3 have : in f. e. * This direction is not in f. e. o princess : in f. e.

Tas I then to you!



Of the king's ship
The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd,
And all the rest o' the fleet?


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;
Whom, with a charm joined to their suffer'd labour,
I have left asleep and for the rest o' the fleet
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again,
And all' upon the Mediterranean float,2
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd,
And his great person perish.

Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work.
What is the time o' the day?

Past the mid season.
Pro. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now
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 promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me.


How now! moody?

What is 't thou canst demand?
My liberty.
Pro. Before the time be out? no more.
I prithee
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge, or grumblings. Thou didst promise
To bate me a full year.

Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?



Pro. Thou dost; and think'st it much, to tread the ooze Of the salt deep,

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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?

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,

1 are in f. e. 2 flote: in f. e. the in f. e. like a: in 1. e.

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Mira. The strangeness of your story put [Waking.'
Heaviness in me.

Shake it off. Come on:
We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.


'Tis a villain, sir,

But, as 'tis,

I do not love to look on.
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!


Ari. Ay, sir.

Cal. As wicked dew, as e'er my mother brush'd

Pro. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with 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.


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,

Not in f. e. honey-comb: in f. e.



Thou strok’dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st Weeping again the king my father's wreck, give me

This music crept by me upon the waters, Water with berries in 't; and teach me how

Allaying both their fury, and my passion, To name the bigger light, and how the less,

With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee, Or it hath drawn me rather:—but 'tis gone.And showd thee all the qualities o' th' isle,

No, it begins again. The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fertile.

ARIEL sings. Cursed be I that did so -All the charms

Full fathom five thy father lies ; Of Sycorar, toads, beetles, bats, light on you;

Of his bones are coral made ; For I am all the subjects that you have,

Those are pearls that were his eyes : Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me,

Nothing of him that doth fade, In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me

But doth suffer a sea-change | The rest oth’ island.

Into something rich and strange.
Thou most lying slave,

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell :
Whom stripes may move, not kindness, I have us'd thee,

(Burden : ding-dong. Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodg'd thee

Hark! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell. In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate

Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father.The honour of my child.

This is no mortal business, nor no sound
Cal. O ho! O ho!-would it had been done! That the earth owes—I hear it now above me.
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else

(Music above. | This isle with Calibans.

Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance Pro. Abhorred slave,

And say, what thou seest yond'. Which any print of goodness will not take,


What is't? a spirit? Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,

Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour It carries a brave form :-but 'tis a spirit. One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, Pro. No, wench : it eats, and sleeps, and hath such Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes

As we have; such. This gallant, which thou seest, With words that made them known: but thy vile race, Was in the wreck; and but he's something stain'd Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou might'st call him Could not abide to be with: therefore wast thou A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows, [beservedly confin d into this rock,

And strays about to find 'em. Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison.


I might call him
Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on't A thing divine, for nothing natural
Is. I know how to curse. The red plague rid you, I ever saw so noble.
For learning me your language !

'It goes on, I see,

(Aside. Pro.


hence! As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Fetch us in fuel ; and be quick, thou’rt best,

Within two days for this. To answer other business. Shrug’st thou, malice ? Fer.

Most sure, the goddess (Seeing her.' If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly

On whom these airs attend !-Vouchsafe, my prayer What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps ; May know if you remain upon this island, (Kneels. Fill all thy bones with aches ; make thee roar, And that you will some good instruction give, That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

How I may bear me here : my prime request,

No, pray thee ! - Which I do last pronounce, is, Õ you wonder!
I must obey; his art is of such power, (Aside. If you be maid, or no ?
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,


No wonder, sir;
And make a vassal of him.

But, certainly a maid.
So, slave; hence ! (Exit CALIBAN. Fer.

My language! heavens !-Rises.'
Roenter Ariel, invisible, playing and singing ; FERDI- I am the best of them that speak this speech,
NAND following:

Were I but where 'tis spoken.
ARIEL's Song.


How ! the best?
Come unto these yellow sands,

What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee ?
Anul then take hands :

Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders Court' sied when you have, and kiss'd

To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me,
The wild waves whist,

And that he does I weep; myself am Naples ;
Foot it featly here and there ;'

Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

The king, my father, wreck’d.
Hark, hark !


Alack, for mercy! Burden. Bow, wow.

(Dispersedly. Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of Milan, The watch dogs bark :

And his brave son, being twain.
Burden. Bow, wow.


The duke of Milan, Hark, hark! I hear

And his more braver daughter, could control thee, The strain of strutking chanticlere

If now 'twere fit to do't.-[Aside.) At the first sight Cry, cock-a-doodle-doo.

[earth ? — They have chang`d eyes :-delicate Ariel, For. Where should this music be? i' th' air, or th' I'll set thee free for this !—(To him.) A word, good sir, Il scands no more ;—and sure, it waits upon

I fear, you have done yourself some wrong: a word. Sarne god o th island. Sitting on a bank,

Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This

le have "him." . The old copies read : “ Foot it feally here and there, and sweet sprites bear the burden." The MS. annotator be fol of 1632, anticipated later critics in altering the passage as it stands in the text. 3 Owrs. 4 Not in f. e. Not in f.e Jet xe Not in f.e.

Beseech you, father!
Pro. Hence! hang not on my garments.
Sir, have pity:

I'll be his surety.
Silence! one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an impostor? hush!
Thou think'st there are no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban,

My affections Are then most humble: I have no ambition To see a goodlier man.

Pro. Come on; obey: [To FERD Thy nerves are in their infancy again, And have no vigour in them.


So they are:

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
Behold this maid: all corners else o' th' earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

Pro. It works. Come on.Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!-Follow me.— [To FERD. and MIR. [To ARIEL. Be of comfort.

Hark, what thou else shalt do me.
My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.

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


To the syllable.

Pro. Come, follow.-Speak not for him. [Exeunt

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 pr'ythee, spare.

Gon. Well, I have done. But yet

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which, or he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

Ant. The cockrel.

Seb. Done. The wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match.

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,

Seb. Ha, ha, ha!

Ant. So, you're paid.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,—
Seb. Yet-

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not miss it.

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate

Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first
Pity move my father

That e'er I sigh'd for.
To be inclin'd my way!


O! if a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The queen of Naples.

Soft, sir: one word more.-
[Aside.] They are both in either's powers: but this
swift business

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

Make the prize light.-[To him.] One word more: I And they to him are angels. charge thee,


That thou attend me. Thou dost here usurp
The name thou ow'st not; and hast put thyself
Upon this island as a spy, to win it
From me, the lord on't.


No, as I am a man.
Mira. 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.

Pro. Follow me.

Speak not you for him; he's a traitor.-Come.
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.




I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy has more power.

[He draws, and is charmed from moving.
O, dear father!
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful.

What! I say:
My foot my tutor?-Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience
Is so possess'd with guilt: Come from thy ward,
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.

by and by it will strike.

Gon. Sir,

Seb. One-tell.

SCENE I.-Another part of the Island.

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 master' of some merchant, and the merchant,
Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us: then, wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.


Pr'ythee, peace

Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.

Seb. Look; he's winding up the watch of his wit:


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 temperance. truer than you purposed.

1 masters: in f. e. 2 of them in f. e. Knight's edition reads, "of them."

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.

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Seb. Ay, and a subtle, as he most learnedly delivered.
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.

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

Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.

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

Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

Gon. How lush' and lusty tne grass looks! how green! To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt,
He came alive to land.

Seb. With an eye2 of green in 't.

Ant. He misses not much.


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;

Sb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.

Gon. But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit

Sb. As many vouch'd 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 stain'd with salt water.

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it Do say, he lies?

Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.

Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis. Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time.

Ant. Widow? a pox o' that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido!

Seb. What if he had said, widower Æneas too? good lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, said you! you make me study of that she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Adr. Carthage?

Gon. Ay?

Ant. Why, in good time.

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Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.
My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.


Very well.

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.
Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.


Foul weather?

Very foul.
Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,—
Ant. He'd sow 't with neddle-seed.
Or docks, or mallows.
Gon. And were the king on't, what would I do?
Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things, for no kind of traffic

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp.
Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.
Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?
Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his
pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring Would I admit ; no name of magistrate;
forth more islands.

Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil:
No occupation, all men idle, all;

And women, too, but innocent and pure.
No sovereignty :—

Seb. Yet he would be king on't.

Ant. The latter end of this commonwealth forgets

Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seem now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis at the marnage 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.

Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day the beginning.
I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?
Alon. You cram these words into mine ears. against
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,

Gon. All things in common nature should produce,
Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
Of its own kind, all foisson, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.


I ne'er again shall see her. O thou, mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan! what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?

Ant. None, man; all idle; whores, and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age.


'Save his majesty!

Juicy. Slight shade of color. 3 at: in f. e. She'd in f. e. It is a nation, would I answer Plato, that hath no kinde of traffike, knowledge of Letters, no intelligence of numbers, no name of magistrate, nor of politike superioritie; no use of service, of riches, of povertie; no contracts, no successions, no dividences, no occupation but idle; no respect of kinred, but common, no apparel but atsil, no manuring of lands, no use of wine. corne, or mettle. The very that import lying, falshood, treason, dissimulations covetBusca, envie, detraction, and pardon, were never heard of amongst them -Montaigne, Florio's translation, 1603. • Plenty.

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