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,           4
Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered   
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           8
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 ere   
It should the good ship so have swallow’d and           12
The fraughting 1 souls within her.   
  Pros.        Be collected;   
No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart   
There’s no harm done.           16
  Mir.        O, woe the day!   
  Pros.        No harm.   
I have done nothing but in care of thee,   
Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who           20
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.           24
  Mir.        More to know   
Did never meddle with my thoughts.   
  Pros.        ’Tis time   
I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,           28
And pluck my magic garment from me. So,  [Lays down his mantle.]   
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,           32
I have with such provision in mine art   
So safely ordered that there is no soul—   
No, not so much perdition as an hair   
Betid to any creature in the vessel           36
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           40
And left me to a bootless inquisition,   
Concluding, “Stay, not yet.”   
  Pros.        The hour’s now come;   
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear.           44
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   
Out three years old.           48
  Mir.        Certainly, sir, I can.   
  Pros.  By what? By any other house or person?   
Of anything the image tell me, that   
Hath kept with thy remembrance.           52
  Mir.        ’Tis far off   
And rather like a dream than an assurance   
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not   
Four or five women once that tended me?           56
  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 2 of time?   
If thou rememb’rest aught ere thou cam’st here,           60
How thou cam’st here thou may’st.   
  Mir.        But that I do not.   
  Pros.  Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,   
Thy father was the Duke of Milan and           64
A prince of power.   
  Mir.        Sir, are not you my father?   
  Pros.  Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and   
She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father           68
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?           72
Or blessed was ’t we did?   
  Pros.        Both, both, my girl.   
By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heav’d thence,   
But blessedly holp hither.           76
  Mir.        O, my heart bleeds   
To think o’ the teen 3 that I have turn’d you to,   
Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.   
  Pros.  My brother and thy uncle, call’d Antonio—           80
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 4 of my state; as at that time           84
Through all the signories 5 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,           88
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?           92
  Mir.        Sir, most heedfully.   
  Pros.  Being once perfected how to grant suits,   
How to deny them, who to advance and who   
To trash for overtopping, 6 new created           96
The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang’d ’em,   
Or else new form’d ’em; 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           100
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.           104
I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated   
To closeness 7 and the bettering of my mind   
With that which, but by being so retir’d,   
O’er-priz’d all popular rate, 8 in my false brother           108
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,           112
A confidence sans 9 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,           116
Made such a sinner of his memory   
To credit his own lie,—he did believe   
He was indeed the Duke. Out o’ the substitution, 10   
And executing the outward face of royalty,           120
With all prerogative, hence his ambition growing—   
Dost thou hear?   
  Mir.        Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.   
  Pros.  To have no screen between this part he play’d           124
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—           128
So dry 11 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!—           132
To most ignoble stooping.   
  Mir.        O the heavens!   
  Pros.  Mark his condition and the event, then tell me   
If this might be a brother.           136
  Mir.        I should sin   
To think but nobly of my grandmother.   
Good wombs have borne bad sons.   
  Pros.        Now the condition.           140
This King of Naples, being an enemy   
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit;   
Which was, that he, in lieu o’ the premises 12   
Of homage and I know not how much tribute,           144
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           148
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.           152
  Mir.        Alack, for pity!   
I, not rememb’ring how I cried out then,   
Will cry it o’er again. It is a hint 13   
That wrings mine eyes to ’t.           156
  Pros.        Hear a little further,   
And then I’ll bring thee to the present business   
Which now’s upon ’s, without the which this story   
Were most impertinent. 14           160
  Mir.        Wherefore did they not   
That hour destroy us?   
  Pros.        Well demanded, wench;   
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not           164
(So dear the love my people bore me) set   
A mark so bloody on the business; but   
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.   
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,           168
Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared   
A rotten carcass of a butt, 15 not rigg’d,   
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats   
Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,           172
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.   
  Mir.        Alack, what trouble           176
Was I then to you!   
  Pros.        O, a cherubin   
Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile,   
Infused with a fortitude from heaven,           180
When I have deck’d the sea with drops full salt,   
Under my burden groan’d; which rais’d in me   
An undergoing 16 stomach, to bear up   
Against what should ensue.           184
  Mir.        How came we ashore?   
  Pros.  By Providence divine.   
Some food we had and some fresh water that   
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,           188
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; 17 so, of his gentleness,           192
Knowing I lov’d my books, he furnish’d me   
From mine own library with volumes that   
I prize above my dukedom.   
  Mir.        Would I might           196
But ever see that man!   
  Pros.        Now I arise.  [Puts on his robe.]   
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.   
Here in this island we arriv’d; and here           200
Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit   
Than other princess 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,           204
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,           208
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies   
Brought to this shore; and by my prescience   
I find my zenith 18 doth depend upon   
A most auspicious star, whose influence           212
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.]           216
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,           220
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride   
On the curl’d clouds. To thy strong bidding task   
Ariel and all his quality. 19   
  Pros.        Hast thou, spirit,           224
Perform’d to point 20 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,           228
I flam’d amazement. Sometime 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           232
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,           236
Yea, his dread trident shake.   
  Pros.        My brave spirit!   
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil 21   
Would not infect his reason?           240
  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,           244
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.”           248
  Pros.        Why, that’s my spirit!   
But was not this nigh shore?   
  Ari.        Close by, my master.   
  Pros.  But are they, Ariel, safe?           252
  Ari.        Not a hair perish’d;   
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,   
But fresher than before; and, as thou bad’st me,   
In troops I have dispers’d them ’bout the isle.           256
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.           260
  Pros.        Of the King’s ship   
The mariners say how thou hast dispos’d,   
And all the rest o’ the fleet.   
  Ari.        Safely in harbour           264
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,           268
Who, with a charm join’d to their suff’red labour,   
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 float 22           272
Bound sadly home for Naples,   
Supposing that they saw the King’s ship wreck’d   
And his great person perish.   
  Pros.        Ariel, thy charge           276
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 Must by us both be spent most preciously.           280
  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.   
  Pros.        How now? moody?           284
What is ’t thou canst demand?   
  Ari.        My liberty.   
  Pros.  Before the time be out? No more!   
  Ari.        I prithee,           288
Remember I have done thee worthy service,   
Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv’d   
Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou did promise   
To bate 23 me a full year.           292
  Pros.        Dost thou forget   
From what a torment I did free thee?   
  Ari.        No.   
  Pros.  Thou dost, and think’st it much to tread the ooze           296
Of the salt deep,   
To run upon the sharp wind of the north,   
To do me business in the veins o’ the earth   
When it is bak’d with frost.           300
  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?           304
  Ari.  No, sir.   
  Pros.        Thou hast. Where was she born? Speak; tell me.   
  Ari.  Sir, in Argier. 24   
  Pros.        O, was she so? I must           308
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,           312
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-ey’d hag was hither brought with child,           316
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,   
As thou report’st thyself, was then her servant;   
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate   
To act her earthy and abhorr’d commands,           320
Refusing her grand hests, 25 she did confine thee,   
By help of her more potent ministers   
And in her most unmitigable rage,   
Into a cloven pine; within which rift           324
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—           328
Save for the son that she did litter here,   
A freckl’d whelp, hag-born,—not honour’d with   
A human shape.   
  Ari.        Yes, Caliban her son.           332
  Pros.  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           336
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           340
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           344
Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters.   
  Ari.        Pardon, master;   
I will be correspondent 26 to command   
And do my spiriting gently.           348
  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?           352
  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.           356
Awake, dear heart, awake! Thou hast slept well;   
Awake!   
  Mir.    The strangeness of your story put   
Heaviness in me.           360
  Pros.        Shake it off. Come on,   
We’ll visit Caliban my slave, who never   
Yields us kind answer.   
  Mir.        ’Tis a villain, sir,           364
I do not love to look on.   
  Pros.        But, as ’tis,   
We cannot miss him. He does make our fire,   
Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices           368
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.           372
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.           376
  Pros.  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           380
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,   
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins 27           384
Shall, for that vast 28 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.           388
  Cal.        I must eat my dinner.   
This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother,   
Which thou tak’st from me. When thou cam’st first   
Thou strok’dst me and made much of me, wouldst give me           392
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’ the isle,           396
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!   
For I am all the subjects that you have,           400
Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me   
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me   
The rest o’ the island.   
  Pros.        Thou most lying slave,           404
Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have us’d thee,   
Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodg’d thee   
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate   
The honour of my child.           408
  Cal.  O ho, O ho! would ’t had been done!   
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopl’d else   
This isle with Calibans.   
  [Pros.]        Abhorred slave,           412
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,           416
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           420
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           424
Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you   
For learning me your language!   
  Pros.        Hag-seed, hence!   
Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou ’rt best,           428
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           432
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,           436
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,
       And then take hands.
   Curtsied when you have, and kiss’d
       The wild waves whist, 29
   Foot it featly 30 here and there,
   And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
   
    Burden  (dispersedly).  Hark, hark!           440
                Bow-wow.   
        The watch-dogs bark!   
                Bow-wow.   
  Ari.  Hark, hark! I hear
           The strain of strutting chanticleer
   Cry, “Cock-a-diddle-dow.”
           444
  Fer.  Where should this music be? I’ the air or the earth?   
It sounds no more; and, sure, it waits upon   
Some god o’ the island. Sitting on a bank,   
Weeping again the King my father’s wreck,           448
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.           452
No, it begins again.
           
ARIEL’S SONG
   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:
   
    Burden  Ding-dong.   
  [Ari.]    Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong, bell.   
  Fer.  The ditty does remember my drown’d father.           456
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.           460
  Mir.        What is ’t? A spirit?   
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,   
It carries a brave form. But ’tis a spirit.   
  Pros.  No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses           464
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   
A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows           468
And strays about to find ’em.   
  Mir.        I might call him   
A thing divine; for nothing natural   
I ever saw so noble.           472
  Pros.    [Aside.]    It goes on, I see,   
As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I’ll free thee   
Within two days for this.   
  Fer.        Most sure, the goddess           476
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,           480
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!   
If you be maid or no?   
  Mir.        No wonder, sir,   
But certainly a maid.           484
  Fer.        My language! heavens!   
I am the best of them that speak this speech,   
Were I but where ’tis spoken.   
  Pros.        How? the best?           488
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,           492
Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld   
The King my father wreck’d.   
  Mir.        Alack, for mercy!   
  Fer.  Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan           496
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           500
They have chang’d 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           504
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!   
  Fer.        O, if a virgin,           508
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           512
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 ow’st not; and hast put thyself           516
Upon this island as a spy, to win it   
From me, the lord on ’t.   
  Fer.        No, as I am a man.   
  Mir.  There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.           520
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,           524
I’ll manacle thy neck and feet together.   
Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be   
The fresh-brook mussels, wither’d roots and husks   
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.           528
  Fer.        No;   
I will resist such entertainment till   
Mine enemy has more power.  He draws, and is charmed from moving.   
  Mir.        O dear father,           532
Make not too rash a trial of him, for   
He’s gentle and not fearful. 31   
  Pros.        What! I say;   
My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor,           536
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.           540
  Mir.        Beseech you, father.   
  Pros.  Hence! hang not on my garments.   
  Mir.        Sir, have pity.   
I’ll be his surety.           544
  Pros.        Silence! one word more   
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,           548
Having seen but him and Caliban. Foolish wench!   
To the most of men this is a Caliban,   
And they to him are angels.   
  Mir.        My affections           552
Are then most humble; I have no ambition   
To see a goodlier man.   
  Pros.        Come on; obey.   
Thy nerves 32 are in their infancy again           556
And have no vigour in them.   
  Fer.        So they are.   
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.   
My father’s loss, the weakness which I feel,           560
The wreck of all my friends, nor this man’s threats,   
To whom I am subdu’d, are but light to me,   
Might I but through my prison once a day   
Behold this maid. All corners else o’ the earth           564
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.           568
[To ARI.]  Hark what thou else shalt do me.   
  Mir.        Be of comfort;   
My father’s of a better nature, sir,   
Than he appears by speech. This is unwonted           572
Which now came from him.   
  Pros.        [To ARI.]  Thou shalt be as free   
As mountain winds; but then exactly do   
All points of my command.           576
  Ari.        To the syllable.   
  Pros.[To MIR. and FER.]  Come, follow. Speak not for him.  Exeunt.   
 
Note 1. Composing the freight. [back]
Note 2. Depth. [back]
Note 3. Trouble. [back]
Note 4. Management. [back]
Note 5. Lordships. [back]
Note 6. To check for excessive ambition. [back]
Note 7. Seclusion. [back]
Note 8. Was more valuable than popularity. [back]
Note 9. Without. [back]
Note 10. From being deputy. [back]
Note 11. Thirsty. [back]
Note 12. In return for the conditions. [back]
Note 13. Occasion, suggestion. [back]
Note 14. Not to the purpose. [back]
Note 15. Old tub, hulk. [back]
Note 16. Enduring. [back]
Note 17. Stood in good stead. [back]
Note 18. The highest point in my fortunes. [back]
Note 19. Power. [back]
Note 20. Not to the purpose. [back]
Note 21. Turmoil. [back]
Note 22. Sea. [back]
Note 23. Reduce my service. [back]
Note 24. Algiers. [back]
Note 25. Commands. [back]
Note 26. Responsive. [back]
Note 27. Elves in the form of hedgehogs. [back]
Note 28. Empty stretch. [back]
Note 29. Silent. [back]
Note 30. Nimbly. [back]
Note 31. Nobly-born and no coward. [back]
Note 32. Sinews. [back]

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 1 of woe   
Is common; every day some sailor’s wife,           4
The masters 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           8
Our sorrow with our comfort.   
  Alon.        Prithee, peace.   
  Seb.  He receives comfort like cold porridge.   
  Ant.  The visitor will not give him o’er so.           12
  Seb.  Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will   
strike.   
  Gon.  Sir,—   
  Seb.  One. Tell. 2           16
  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 purpos’d.           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.           24
  Gon.  Well, I have done. But yet,—   
  Seb.  He will be talking.   
  Ant.  Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?   
  Seb.  The old cock.           28
  Ant.  The cockerel.   
  Seb.  Done. The wager?   
  Ant.  A laughter.   
  Seb.  A match!           32
  Adr.  Though this island seem to be desert,—   
  Seb.  Ha, ha, ha! Antonio! So you’re paid.   
  Adr.  Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,—   
  Seb.  Yet,—           36
  Adr.  Yet,—   
  Ant.  He could not miss ’t.   
  Adr.  It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance. 3   
  Ant.  Temperance was a delicate wench.           40
  Seb.  Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly deliver’d.   
  Adr.  The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.   
  Seb.  As if it had lungs and rotten ones.   
  Ant.  Or as ’twere perfum’d by a fen.           44
  Gon.  Here is everything advantageous to life.   
  Ant.  True; save means to live.   
  Seb.  Of that there’s none, or little.   
  Gon.  How lush 4 and lusty the grass looks! How green!           48
  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.           52
  Gon.  But the rarity of it is,—which is indeed almost beyond credit,—   
  Seb.  As many vouch’d rarities are.   
  Gon.  That our garments, being, as they were, drench’d in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather newdy’d than stain’d with salt water.   
  Ant.  If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies?           56
  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 grac’d before with such a paragon to their queen.           60
  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.           64
  Gon.  This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.   
  Adr.  Carthage?   
  Gon.  I assure you, Carthage.   
  Ant.  His word is more than the miraculous harp.           68
  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 forth more islands.           72
  Gon.  Ay.   
  Ant.  Why, in good time.   
  Gon.  Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now 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.           76
  Seb.  Bate, 5 I beseech you, widow Dido.   
  Ant.  O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.   
  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 fish’d for.           80
  Gon.  When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage?   
  Alon.  You cram these words into mine ears against   
The stomach of my sense. 6 Would I had never   
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,           84
My son is lost and, in my rate, 7 she too,   
Who is so far from Italy removed   
I ne’er again shall see her. O thou mine heir   
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish           88
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,           92
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted   
The surge most swoln that met him. His bold head   
’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared   
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke           96
To the shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bowed,   
As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt   
He came alive to land.   
  Alon.        No, no, he’s gone.           100
  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,           104
Who hath cause to wet the grief on ’t.   
  Alon.        Prithee, peace.   
  Seb.  You were kneel’d to and importun’d otherwise   
By all of us, and the fair soul herself           108
Weigh’d between loathness and obedience, at   
Which end o’ the beam should bow. We have lost your son,   
I fear, for ever. Milan and Naples have   
Moe 8 widows in them of this business’ making           112
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,           116
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.           120
  Ant.  And most chirurgeonly. 9   
  Gon.  It is foul weather in us all, good sir,   
When you are cloudy.   
  Seb.        Foul weather?           124
  Ant.        Very foul.   
  Gon.  Had I plantation 10 of this isle, my lord,—   
  Ant.  He’d sow ’t with nettle-seed.   
  Seb.  Or docks, or mallows.           128
  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           132
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;   
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,   
And use of service, none; contract, succession,   
Bourn, 11 bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;           136
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;   
No occupation; all men idle, all;   
And women too, but innocent and pure;   
No sovereignty;—           140
  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,           144
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, 12   
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,   
Of it own kind, all foison, 13 all abundance,   
To feed my innocent people.           148
  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.           152
  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.           156
  Gon.  I do well believe your Highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.   
  Ant.  ’T was you we laugh’d at.   
  Gon.  Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you. So you may continue and laugh at nothing still.   
  Ant.  What a blow was there given!           160
  Seb.  An it had not fallen flatlong. 14   
  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.   
 
Enter ARIEL[invisible], playing solemn music

  Seb.  We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.   
  Ant.  Nay, good my lord, be not angry.           164
  Gon.  No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?   
  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           168
They are inclin’d to do so.   
  Seb.        Please you, sir,   
Do not omit the heavy offer of it.   
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,           172
It is a comforter.   
  Ant.        We two, my lord,   
Will guard your person while you take your rest,   
And watch your safety.           176
  Alon.  Thank you. Wondrous heavy.  [ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL.]   
  Seb.  What a strange drowsiness possesses them!   
  Ant.  It is the quality o’ the climate.   
  Seb.        Why           180
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not   
Myself dispos’d to sleep.   
  Ant.        Nor I; my spirits are nimble.   
They fell together all, as by consent;           184
They dropp’d, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,   
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           188
My strong imagination sees a crown   
Dropping upon thy head.   
  Seb.        What, art thou waking?   
  Ant.  Do you not hear me speak?           192
  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           196
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,   
And yet so fast asleep.   
  Ant.        Noble Sebastian,   
Thou let’st thy fortune sleep—die, rather; wink’st           200
Whiles thou art waking.   
  Seb.        Thou dost snore distinctly;   
There’s meaning in thy snores.   
  Ant.  I am more serious than my custom; you           204
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do   
Trebles thee o’er.   
  Seb.        Well, I am standing water. 15   
  Ant.  I’ll teach you how to flow.           208
  Seb.        Do so. To ebb   
Hereditary sloth instructs me.   
  Ant.        O,   
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish           212
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.           216
  Seb.        Prithee, say on.   
The setting 16 of thine eye and cheek proclaim   
A matter from thee, and a birth indeed   
Which throes thee much to yield.           220
  Ant.        Thus, sir:   
Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,   
Who shall be of as little memory 17   
When he is earth’d, hath here almost persuaded—           224
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.           228
  Seb.        I have no hope   
That he’s undrown’d.   
  Ant.  O, out of that no hope   
What great hope have you! No hope that way is           232
Another way so high a hope that even   
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,   
But doubt discovery there. 18 Will you grant with me   
That Ferdinand is drown’d?           236
  Seb.        He’s gone.   
  Ant.        Then, tell me,   
Who’s the next heir of Naples?   
  Seb.        Claribel.           240
  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           244
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           248
In yours and my discharge.   
  Seb.        What stuff is this! How say you?   
’Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s Queen of Tunis;   
So is she heir of Naples; ’twixt which regions           252
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,           256
And let Sebastian wake.” Say, this were death   
That now hath seiz’d 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           260
As amply and unnecessarily   
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make   
A chough of as deep chat. 19 O, that you bore   
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this           264
For your advancement! Do you understand me?   
  Seb.  Methinks I do.   
  Ant.        And how does your content 20   
Tender 21 your own good fortune?           268
  Seb.        I remember   
You did supplant your brother Prospero.   
  Ant.        True.   
And look how well my garments sit upon me;           272
Much feater 22 than before. My brother’s servants   
Were then my fellows; now they are my men.   
  Seb.  But, for your conscience?   
  Ant.  Ay, sir, where lies that? If ’twere a kibe, 23           276
’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   
And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother,           280
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,           284
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;           288
They’ll tell the clock to any business that   
We say befits the hour.   
  Seb.        Thy case, dear friend,   
Shall be my precedent; as thou got’st Milan,           292
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;           296
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],with music and song

  Ari.  My master through his art foresees the danger           300
That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth—   
For else his project dies—to keep them living.  Sings in GONZALO’S ear.
           While you here do snoring lie,
   Open-ey’d Conspiracy
       His time doth take.
   If of life you keep a care,
   Shake off slumber, and beware;
       Awake, awake!
   
  Ant.  Then let us both be sudden.   
  Gon.        Now, good angels           304
Preserve the King.  [Wakes ALON.]   
  Alon.  Why, how now? Ho, awake! Why are you drawn?   
Wherefore this ghastly looking?   
  Gon.        What’s the matter?           308
  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.           312
  Alon.        I heard nothing.   
  Ant.  O, ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear,   
To make an earthquake! Sure, it was the roar   
Of a whole herd of lions.           316
  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 shak’d you, sir, and cried. As mine eyes open’d,           320
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           324
For my poor son.   
  Gon.  Heavens keep him from these beasts!   
For he is, sure, i’ the island.   
  Alon.        Lead away.           328
  Ari.  Prospero my lord shall know what I have done.   
So, King, go safely on to seek thy son.  [Exeunt.]   
 
Note 1. Occasion. [back]
Note 2. Count. [back]
Note 3. Temperature. [back]
Note 4. Luxuriant. [back]
Note 5. Except. [back]
Note 6. My inclination to hear. [back]
Note 7. Opinion. [back]
Note 8. More. [back]
Note 9. Like a surgeon. [back]
Note 10. Colonization. [back]
Note 11. Boundary. [back]
Note 12. Implement. [back]
Note 13. Plenty. [back]
Note 14. On the flat side. [back]
Note 15. l.e., in an indifferent attitude. [back]
Note 16. Fixed expression. [back]
Note 17. As little remembered. [back]
Note 18. Whether there is anything higher to be seen. [back]
Note 19. A jackdaw that could talk as profoundly. [back]
Note 20. Inclination. [back]
Note 21. Regard. [back]
Note 22. Better fitting. [back]
Note 23. Chilblain. [back]

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 1 a disease! His spirits hear me   
And yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch,           4
Fright me with urchin-shows, 2 pitch me i’ the mire,   
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,           8
Sometime like apes that mow 3 and chatter at me   
And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which   
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount   
Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I           12
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           16
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 like a foul bombard 4 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 of not-of-the-newest Poor-John. 5 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 6 to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg’d 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 again! My best way is to creep under his gaberdine; 7 there is no other shelter hereabout. Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. 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,
       Here shall I die ashore—”
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral. Well, here’s my comfort.  Drinks.           20
(Sings.)
           “The master, the swabber, 8 the boatswain, and I,
     The gunner and his mate
   Lov’d Moll, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
     But none of us car’d for Kate;
     For she had a tongue with a tang,
     Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!
   She lov’d not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
   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! Oh!   
  Ste.  What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon ’s with savages and men of Ind, ha? I have not scap’d drowning to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, “As proper 9 a man as ever went on four legs 10 cannot make him give ground”; and it shall be said so again while Stephano breathes at nostrils.   
  Cal.  The spirit torments me! Oh!           24
  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 get to Naples with him, he’s a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat’s leather. 11   
  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 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 know it by thy trembling. Now Prosper works upon thee.           28
  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.   
  Trin.  I should know that voice; it should be—but he is drown’d; 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. 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!           32
  Ste.  Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! 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.   
  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 cam’st thou to be the siege 12 of this moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos?   
  Trin.  I took him to be kill’d with a thunderstroke. But art thou not drown’d, Stephano? I hope now thou art not drown’d. Is the storm over-blown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf’s 13 gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans scap’d!           36
  Ste.  Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.   
  Cal.  [Aside.]  These be fine things, and if they be not sprites.   
That’s a brave god and bears celestial liquor.   
I will kneel to him.           40
  Ste.  How didst thou scape? How cam’st thou hither? Swear by this bottle how thou cam’st hither,—I escap’d 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.   
  Cal.  I’ll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject; for the liquor is not earthly.   
  Ste.  Here; swear then how thou escap’dst.   
  Trin.  Swam ashore, man, like a duck. I can swim like a duck, I’ll be sworn.           44
  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 seaside where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! how does thine ague?   
  Cal.  Hast thou not dropp’d from heaven?           48
  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.   
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.           52
  Trin.  By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The man i’ the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well drawn, 14 monster, in good sooth!   
  Cal.  I’ll show thee every fertile inch o’ the island;   
And I will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god.   
  Trin.  By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster! When’s god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle.           56
  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 my heart to beat him—           60
  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;           64
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.           68
  Trin.  A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder 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           72
To snare the nimble marmoset. 15 I’ll bring thee   
To clust’ring filberts and sometimes I’ll get thee   
Young scamels 16 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 drown’d, we will inherit here. Here! bear my bottle. Fellow Trinculo, we’ll fill him by and by again.           76
  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
     At requiring;
   Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish.
     ’Ban, ’Ban, Cacaliban
     Has a new master, get a new man.
   Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-day, freedom!
   
  Ste.  O brave monster! Lead the way.  Exeunt.           80
 
Note 1. Inch by inch. [back]
Note 2. Goblin apparitions. [back]
Note 3. Grimace. [back]
Note 4. leathern vessel for liquor. [back]
Note 5. Salted hake. [back]
Note 6. Small Dutch coin. [back]
Note 7. Long cloak. [back]
Note 8. Cleaner of the decks. [back]
Note 9. Fine. [back]
Note 10. I. e., on crutches. [back]
Note 11. Cow-hide. [back]
Note 12. Stool. [back]
Note 13. Monstrosity. [back]
Note 14. Drunk. [back]
Note 15. A kind of monkey. [back]
Note 16. Perhaps, seamews. [back]
 

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           4
Would be as heavy to me as odious, but   
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,           8
And he’s compos’d of harshness. I must remove   
Some thousands of these logs and pile them up,   
Upon a sore injunction. 1 My sweet mistress   
Weeps when she sees me work, and says such baseness           12
Had never like executor. 2 I forget;   
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,   
Most busy least, when I do it.   
 
Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO[at a distance, unseen]

  Mir.        Alas, now, pray you,           16
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           20
Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;   
He’s safe for these three hours.   
  Fer.        O most dear mistress,   
The sun will set before I shall discharge           24
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.           28
  Fer.        No, precious creature;   
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,   
Than you should such dishonour undergo,   
While I sit lazy by.           32
  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,   
And yours it is against.           36
  Pros.        Poor worm, thou art infected! 3   
This visitation 4 shows it.   
  Mir.        You look wearily.   
  Fer.  No, noble mistress; ’tis fresh morning with me           40
When you are by at night. I do beseech you—   
Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers—   
What is your name?   
  Mir.        Miranda.—O my father,           44
I have broke your hest to say so!   
  Fer.        Admir’d Miranda!   
Indeed the top of admiration! worth   
What’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady           48
I have ey’d with best regard, and many a time   
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage   
Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues   
Have I lik’d several women, never any           52
With so full soul, but some defect in her   
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow’d 5   
And put it to the foil; 6 but you, O you,   
So perfect and so peerless, are created           56
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           60
More that I may call men than you, good friend,   
And my dear father. How features are abroad,   
I am skilless 7 of; but, by my modesty,   
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish           64
Any companion in the world but you,   
Nor can imagination form a shape,   
Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle   
Something too wildly, and my father’s precepts           68
I therein do forget.   
  Fer.        I am in my condition   
A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;   
I would, not so!—and would no more endure           72
This wooden 8 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,           76
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,           80
And crown what I profess with kind event   
If I speak true! if hollowly, invert   
What best is boded me to mischief! I   
Beyond all limit of what else i’ the world           84
Do love, prize, honour you.   
  Mir.        I am a fool   
To weep at what I am glad of.   
  Pros.        Fair encounter           88
Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace   
On that which breeds between ’em!   
  Fer.        Wherefore weep you?   
  Mir.  At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer           92
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,   
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning!           96
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,           100
Whether you will or no.   
  Fer.        My mistress, dearest;   
And I thus humble ever.   
  Mir.        My husband, then?           104
  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   
Till half an hour hence.           108
  Fer.        A thousand thousand!  Exeunt [FER. and MIR. severally].   
  Pros.  So glad of this as they I cannot be,   
Who are surpris’d withal; but my rejoicing   
At nothing can be more. I’ll to my book,           112
For yet ere supper-time must I perform   
Much business appertaining.  Exit.   
 
Note 1. Pain of severe punishment. [back]
Note 2. Performer. [back]
Note 3. Smitten (with love). [back]
Note 4. Visit. [back]
Note 5. Owned. [back]
Note 6. Marred it. [back]
Note 7. Ignorant. [back]
Note 8. Of carrying wood. [back]

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 1 ’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 the other two be brain’d like us, the state totters.   
  Ste.  Drink, servant-monster, when I did 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.           4
  Ste.  My man-monster hath drown’d 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. 2   
  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.           8
  Ste.  Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good mooncalf.   
  Cal.  How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe.   
I’ll not serve him; he’s not valiant.   
  Trin.  Thou liest, most ignorant monster! I am in case to justle a constable. Why, thou debosh’d 3 fish, thou, was 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?           12
  Cal.  Lo, how he mocks me! Wilt thou let him, my lord?   
  Trin.  “Lord” quoth he! That a monster should be 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.           16
  Cal.  I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas’d 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 sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island.   
  Ari.  Thou liest.           20
  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 this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.   
  Trin.  Why, I said nothing.   
  Ste.  Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.           24
  Cal.  I say, by sorcery he got this isle;   
From me he got it. If thy greatness will   
Revenge it on him,—for I know thou dar’st,   
But this thing dare not,—           28
  Ste.  That’s most certain.   
  Cal.  Thou shalt be lord of it and I’ll serve thee.   
  Ste.  How now shall this be compass’d? Canst thou bring me to the party?   
  Cal.  Yea, yea, my lord. I’ll yield him thee asleep,           32
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.   
  Ari.  Thou liest; thou canst not.   
  Cal.  What a pied ninny’s 4 this! Thou scurvy patch! 5   
I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows           36
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 6 are.   
  Ste.  Trinculo, run into no further danger. Interrupt the monster one word further, and, by this hand, I’ll turn my mercy out o’ doors and make a stock-fish 7 of thee.           40
  Trin.  Why, what did I? I did nothing. I’ll go farther off.   
  Ste.  Didst thou not say he lied?   
  Ari.  Thou liest.   
  Ste.  Do I so? Take thou that.  [Beats TRIN.]           44
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 drinking do. A murrain 8 on your monster, and the devil take your fingers!   
  Cal.  Ha, ha, ha!   
  Ste.  Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, stand farther off.           48
  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,           52
I’ the afternoon to sleep. There thou mayst brain him,   
Having first seiz’d his books, or with a log   
Batter his skull, or paunch him 9 with a stake,   
Or cut his wezand 10 with thy knife. Remember           56
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.           60
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           64
Calls her a nonpareil. I never saw a woman   
But only Sycorax my dam and she;   
But she as far surpasseth Sycorax   
As greatest does least.           68
  Ste.        Is it so brave a lass?   
  Cal.  Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant,   
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?           72
  Trin.  Excellent.   
  Ste.  Give me thy hand. I am sorry I beat thee; but, while thou liv’st, keep a good tongue in thy head.   
  Cal.  Within this half hour will he be asleep.   
Wilt thou destroy him then?           76
  Ste.        Ay, on mine honour.   
  Ari.  This will I tell my master.   
  Cal.  Thou mak’st me merry; I am full of pleasure.   
Let us be jocund. Will you troll the catch 11           80
You taught me but while-ere?   
  Ste.  At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any 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?           84
  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 be’st a devil, take ’t as thou list.   
  Trin.  O, forgive me my sins!   
  Ste.  He that dies pays all debts. I defy thee. Mercy upon us!           88
  Cal.  Art thou afeard?   
  Ste.  No, monster, not I.   
  Cal.  Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,   
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.           92
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments   
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices   
That, if I then had wak’d after long sleep,   
Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming,           96
The clouds methought would open and show riches   
Ready to drop upon me, that, when I wak’d,   
I cried to dream again.   
  Ste.  This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing.           100
  Cal.  When Prospero is destroy’d.   
  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.           104
  Trin.  Wilt come? I’ll follow Stephano.  Exeunt.   
 
Note 1. Attack (the bottle). The figure is from naval warfare. [back]
Note 2. Standard-bearer. [back]
Note 3. Debauched. [back]
Note 4. Motley fool. [back]
Note 5. Fool. [back]
Note 6. Fresh-water streams. [back]
Note 7. Dried cod. [back]
Note 8. Plague. [back]
Note 9. Rip up his belly. [back]
Note 10. Windpipe. [back]
Note 11. Part-song. [back]

Scene III
 
 
[Another part of the island]
Enter ALONZO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, etc.

  Gon.  By ’r lakin, 1 I can go no further, sir;   
My old bones ache. Here’s a maze trod indeed   
Through forth-rights and meanders! 2 By your patience,   
I needs must rest me.           4
  Alon.        Old lord, I cannot blame thee,   
Who am myself attach’d 3 with weariness   
To the dulling of my spirits. Sit down, and rest.   
Even here I will put off my hope and keep it           8
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.   
  Ant.  [Aside to SEB.]  I am right glad that he’s so out of hope.           12
Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose   
That you resolv’d to effect.   
  Seb.      [Aside to ANT.]  The next advantage   
Will we take throughly.           16
  Ant.    [Aside to SEB.]  Let it be to-night;   
For, now they are oppress’d with travel, they   
Will not, cannot, use such vigilance   
As when they are fresh.           20
 
Solemn and strange music; and PROSPERO on the top invisible, Enter several strange shapes, bringing in a banquet; and dance about it with gentle actions of salutation; and, inviting the King, etc., to eat, they depart.

  Seb.  [Aside to ANT.]  I say, to-night. No more.   
  Alon.  What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!   
  Gon.  Marvellous sweet music!   
  Alon.  Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?           24
  Seb.  A living drollery. 4 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.           28
  Ant.        I’ll believe both;   
And what does else want credit, come to me,   
And I’ll be sworn ’tis true. Travellers ne’er did lie,   
Though fools at home condemn ’em.           32
  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—           36
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.           40
  Pros.        [Aside.]  Honest lord,   
Thou hast said well; for some of you there present   
Are worse than devils.   
  Alon.        I cannot too much muse 5           44
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.           48
  Fran.  They vanish’d strangely.   
  Seb.        No matter, since   
They have left their viands behind, for we have stomachs.   
Will ’t please you taste of what is here?           52
  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, 6 whose throats had hanging at ’em           56
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 7 will bring us   
Good warrant of.           60
  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.           64
 
Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, 8 the banquet vanishes.

  Ari.  You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,   
That hath to instrument 9 this lower world   
And what is in ’t, the never-surfeited sea   
Hath caus’d to belch up you; and on this island           68
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., etc., draw their swords.]           72
        You fools! I and my fellows   
Are ministers of Fate. The elements, 10   
Of whom your swords are temper’d, 11 may as well   
Wound the loud winds, or with bemock’d-at stabs           76
Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish   
One dowle 12 that’s in my plume. My fellow-ministers   
Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,   
Your swords are now too massy for your strengths           80
And will not be uplifted. But remember—   
For that’s my business to you—that you three   
From Milan did supplant good Prospero;   
Expos’d unto the sea, which hath requit it,           84
Him and his innocent child; for which foul deed   
The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have   
Incens’d the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,   
Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,           88
They have bereft; and do pronounce by me   
Ling’ring perdition, worse than any death   
Can be at once, shall step by step attend   
You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from—           92
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 mocks and mows, and carrying out the table

  Pros.  Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou           96
Perform’d, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring.   
Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated 13   
In what thou hadst to say; so, with good life 14   
And observation 15 strange, my meaner ministers           100
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, while I visit           104
Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown’d,   
And his and mine lov’d darling.  [Exit above.]   
  Gon.  I’ the name of something holy, sir, why stand you   
In this strange stare?           108
  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, pronounc’d           112
The name of Prosper; it did bass 16 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.]           116
  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,           120
Like poison given to work a great time after,   
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 17           124
May now provoke them to.   
  Adr.        Follow, I pray you.  Exeunt.   
 
Note 1. Little lady (the Virgin). [back]
Note 2. Straight and winding paths. [back]
Note 3. Seized. [back]
Note 4. Puppet-show. [back]
Note 5. Wonder at. [back]
Note 6. I. e., with the goitre. [back]
Note 7. Traveler who insured himself at the rate of five for one. [back]
Note 8. Ingenious contrivance. [back]
Note 9. In its control. [back]
Note 10. Materials. [back]
Note 11. Composed. [back]
Note 12. Downy feather. [back]
Note 13. Omitted. [back]
Note 14. Lifelikeness. [back]
Note 15. Attention. [back]
Note 16. Pronounce in deep tones. [back]
Note 17. Excitement. [back]

Act IV
 
Scene I
 

Enter certain Nymphs
You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,
 
[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           4
I tender 1 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,           8
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.   
  Fer.        I do believe it           12
Against an oracle.   
  Pros.  Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition   
Worthily purchas’d, take my daughter. But   
If thou dost break her virgin-knot before           16
All sanctimonious ceremonies may   
With full and holy rite be minist’red,   
No sweet aspersion 2 shall the heavens let fall   
To make this contract grow; but barren Hate,           20
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.           24
  Fer.        As I hope   
For quiet days, fair issue, and long life,   
With such love as ’tis now, the murkiest den,   
The most opportune place, the strong’st suggestion 3           28
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           32
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!           36
 
Enter ARIEL

  Ari.  What would my potent master? Here I am.   
  Pros.  Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service   
Did worthily perform; and I must use you   
In such another trick. Go bring the rabble,           40
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   
Some vanity of mine art. It is my promise,           44
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,”
   Each one, tripping on his toe,
   Will be here with mop 4 and mow.
   Do you love me, master? No?
           48
  Pros.  Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach   
Till thou dost hear me call.   
  Ari.        Well, I conceive. 5  Exit.   
  Pros.  Look thou be true; do not give dalliance           52
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;           56
The white cold virgin snow upon my heart   
Abates the ardour of my liver. 6   
  Pros.        Well.   
Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary, 7           60
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   
Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease;           64
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,   
And flat meads thatch’d with stover, 8 them to keep;   
Thy banks with pioned 9 and twilled 10 brims,   
Which spongy April at thy hest betrims           68
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy brown groves,   
Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,   
Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipp’d 11 vineyard;   
And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard,           72
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 grace,  JUNO descends.   
Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,           76
To come and sport; here peacocks fly amain.   
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.   
 
Enter CERES

  Cer.  Haií, many-coloured messenger, that ne’er   
Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;           80
Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers   
Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers,   
And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown   
My bosky 12 acres and my unshrubb’d down,           84
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 13           88
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           92
The means that dusky Dis my daughter got,   
Her and her blind boy’s scandal’d 14 company   
I have forsworn.   
  Iris.        Of her society           96
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,           100
Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid   
Till Hymen’s torch be lighted; but in vain.   
Mars’s hot minion 15 is return’d again;   
Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,           104
Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows   
And be a boy right out.   
  Cer.        Highest queen of state,   
Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait.           108
 
[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.   
  Juno.
           Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,
   Long continuance, and increasing,
   Hourly joys be still upon you!
   Juno sings her blessings on you.
           112
  [Cer.]
           Earth’s increase, foison 16 plenty,
   Barns and garners never empty,
   Vines with clustering bunches growing,
   Plants with goodly burden bowing.
   Spring come to you at the farthest
   In the very end of harvest!
   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?           116
  Pros.        Spirits, which by mine art   
I have from their confines call’d to enact   
My present fancies.   
  Fer.        Let me live here ever;           120
So rare a wond’red 17 father and a wise   
Makes this place Paradise.   
  Pros.        Sweet, now, silence!   
Juno and Ceres whisper seriously.           124
There’s something else to do; hush, and be mute,   
Or else our spell is marr’d.  JUNO and CERES whisper, and send IRIS on employment.   
  Iris.  You nymphs, call’d Naiads, of the winding brooks,   
With your sedg’d crowns and ever-harmless looks,           128
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.           132
Come hither from the furrow and be merry.   
Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on   
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one   
In country footing.           136
 
Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards the end where of 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   
Against my life. The minute of their plot   
Is almost come. [To the Spirits.] Well done! avoid. No more!           140
  Fer.  This is strange. Your father’s in some passion 18   
That works him strongly.   
  Mir.        Never till this day   
Saw I him touch’d with anger, so distemper’d. 19           144
  Pros.  You do look, my son, in a mov’d 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           148
Are melted into air, into thin air;   
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,   
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,   
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,           152
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve   
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,   
Leave not a rack 20 behind. We are such stuff   
As dreams are made on, and our little life           156
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.   
If you be pleas’d, retire into my cell           160
And there repose. A turn or two I’ll walk,   
To still my beating mind.   
  Fer. Mir.        We wish your peace.   
  Pros.  Come with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel; come.  Exeunt.           164
 
Enter ARIEL

  Ari.  Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?   
  Pros.        Spirit,   
We must prepare to meet with Caliban.   
  Ari.  Ay, my commander. When I presented Ceres,           168
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?   
  Ari.  I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;           172
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;           176
At which, like unback’d colts, they prick’d their ears,   
Advanc’d 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           180
Tooth’d briers, sharp furzes, pricking gorse, and thorns,   
Which ent’red 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           184
O’erstunk their feet.   
  Pros.        This was well done, my bird.   
Thy shape invisible retain thou still.   
The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither,           188
For stale 21 to catch these thieves.   
  Ari.        I go, I go.   
  Pros.  A devil, a born devil, on whose nature   
Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,           192
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;   
And as with age his body uglier grows,   
So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,   
Even to roaring.  Exit.           196
 
Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glittering apparel, etc.

      Come, hang them on this line. 22   
 
[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.   
  Ste.  Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, has done little better than play’d the Jack 23 with us.           200
  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 take a displeasure against you, look you,—   
  Trin.  Thou wert but a lost monster.   
  Cal.  Good my lord, give me thy favour still.           204
Be patient, for the prize I’ll bring thee to   
Shall hoodwink 24 this mischance; therefore speak softly.   
All’s hush’d as midnight yet.   
  Trin.  Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,—           208
  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 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,           212
This is the mouth o’ the cell. No noise, and enter.   
Do that good mischief which may make this island   
Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,   
For aye thy foot-licker.           216
  Ste.  Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts.   
  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. 25 O King Stephano!           220
  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           224
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. 26 Now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair and prove a bald jerkin.           228
  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. “Steal by line and level” is an excellent pass of pate; 27 there’s another garment for ’t.   
  Trin.  Monster, come, put some line upon your fingers, and away with the rest.   
  Cal.  I will have none on ’t. We shall lose our time,           232
And all be turn’d to barnacles, or to apes   
With foreheads villainous 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.   
  Trin.  And this.           236
  Ste.  Ay, and this.   
 
A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of dogs and hounds, hunting them about, PROSPERO and ARIEL setting them on

  Pros.  Mountain, hey!   
  Ari.  Silver! there it goes, Silver!   
  Pros.  Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark! hark!  [CAL., STE., and TRIN. are driven out.]           240
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   
Than pard or cat o’ mountain. 28           244
  Ari.        Hark, they roar!   
  Pros.  Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour   
Lies at my mercy all mine enemies.   
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou           248
Shalt have the air of freedom. For a little   
Follow, and do me service.  Exeunt.   
 
Note 1. Offer. [back]
Note 2. Sprinkling. [back]
Note 3. Temptation. [back]
Note 4. Grimace. [back]
Note 5. Understand. [back]
Note 6. Supposed to be the seat of passion. [back]
Note 7. Overplus. [back]
Note 8. Hay. [back]
Note 9. Overgrown with peony (?). [back]
Note 10. Reedy (?). [back]
Note 11. The poles embraced by the vines. [back]
Note 12. Covered with bushes. [back]
Note 13. Bestow. [back]
Note 14. Scandalous. [back]
Note 15. I. e., Venus. [back]
Note 16. Abundance. [back]
Note 17. Wonder-working. [back]
Note 18. Emotion. [back]
Note 19. Perturbed. [back]
Note 20. Shred of cloud. [back]
Note 21. Lure. [back]
Note 22. Probably, lime-tree. [back]
Note 23. Knave. [back]
Note 24. Make you forget. [back]
Note 25. Old-clothes shop. [back]
Note 26. Punning on line=lime-tree, and line=equinoctial line. [back]
Note 27. Sally to wit. [back]
Note 28. Wild-cat. [back]

Scene I
 
 
[Before Prospero’s cell]
Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL

  Pros.  Now does my project gather to a head.   
My charms crack 1 not; my spirits obey; and Time   
Goes upright with his carriage. 2 How’s the day?   
  Ari.  On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,           4
You said our work should cease.   
  Pros.        I did say so,   
When first I rais’d the tempest. Say, my spirit,   
How fares the King and ’s followers?           8
  Ari.        Confin’d 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 3 your cell;           12
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           16
Him that you term’d, sir, “The good old lord, Gonzalo,”   
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           20
Would become tender.   
  Pros.        Dost thou think so, spirit?   
  Ari.  Mine would, sir, were I human.   
  Pros.        And mine shall.           24
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 4 as they, be kindlier mov’d than thou art?           28
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick.   
Yet with my nobler reason ’gainst my fury   
Do I take part. The rarer action is   
In virtue than in vengeance. They being penitent,           32
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend   
Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel.   
My charms I’ll break, their senses I’ll restore,   
And they shall be themselves.           36
  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           40
When he comes back; you demi-puppets 5 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           44
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,   
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 azur’d vault           48
Set roaring war; to the dread rattling thunder   
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak   
With his own bolt; the strong-bas’d promontory   
Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck’d up           52
The pine and cedar; graves at my command   
Have wak’d their sleepers, op’d, and let ’em forth   
By my so potent art. But this rough magic   
I here abjure, and, when I have requir’d           56
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,           60
And deeper than did ever plummet sound   
I’ll drown my book.  Solemn music.   
 
Here enters ARIEL before: then ALONZO, 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,           64
Now useless, boil’d within thy skull! There stand,   
For you are spell-stopp’d.   
Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,   
Mine eyes, even sociable 6 to the shew of thine,           68
Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace,   
And as the morning steals upon the night,   
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses   
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle           72
Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,   
My true preserver, and a loyal sir   
To him thou follow’st! I will pay thy graces   
Home 7 both in word and deed. Most cruelly           76
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,           80
Expell’d remorse and nature, 8 whom, 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           84
Begins to swell, and the approaching tide   
Will shortly fill the reasonable shore 9   
That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them   
That yet looks on me, or would know me! Ariel,           88
Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell;   
I will discase 10 me, and myself present   
As I was sometime Milan. Quickly, spirit;   
Thou shalt ere long be free.           92
 
ARIEL sings and helps to attire him

  Ari.
               “Where the bee sucks, there suck I.
       In a cowslip’s bell I lie;
       There I couch when owls do cry.
       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;   
But yet thou shalt have freedom. So, so, so.   
To the King’s ship, invisible as thou art;           96
There shalt thou find the mariners asleep   
Under the hatches. The master and the boatswain   
Being awake, enforce them to this place,   
And presently, I prithee.           100
  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           104
Out of this fearful country!   
  Pros.        Behold, sir King,   
The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero.   
For more assurance that a living prince           108
Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;   
And to thee and thy company I bid   
A hearty welcome.   
  Alon.        Whe’er thou be’st he or no,           112
Or some enchanted trifle to abuse 11 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           116
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           120
Be living and be here?   
  Pros.        First, noble friend,   
Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot   
Be measur’d or confin’d.           124
  Gon.        Whether this be   
Or be not, I’ll not swear.   
  Pros.        You do yet taste   
Some subtleties o’ the isle, that will not let you           128
Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all!   
[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           132
I will tell no tales.   
  Seb.    [Aside.]  The devil speaks in him.   
  Pros.        No.   
For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother           136
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.           140
  Alon.        If thou be’st Prospero,   
Give us particulars of thy preservation,   
How thou hast met us here, whom three hours since   
Were wreck’d upon this shore, where I have lost—           144
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           148
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           152
And rest myself content.   
  Alon.        You the like loss!   
  Pros.  As great to me as late; and, supportable   
To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker           156
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,           160
The King and Queen there! That they were, I wish   
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed   
Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?   
  Pros.  In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords           164
At this encounter do so much admire 12   
That they devour their reason and scarce think   
Their eyes do offices of truth, their words   
Are natural breath; but, howsoe’er you have           168
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   
Upon this shore, where you were wreck’d, was landed,           172
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;           176
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;           180
At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye   
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 dearest love,           184
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           188
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;           192
I have curs’d them without cause.  [Kneels.]   
  Alon.        Now all the blessings   
Of a glad father compass thee about!   
Arise, and say how thou cam’st here.           196
  Mir.        O, wonder!   
How many goodly creatures are there here!   
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,   
That has such people in ’t!           200
  Pros.        ’Tis new to thee.   
  Alon.  What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?   
Your eld’st acquaintance cannot be three hours.   
Is she the goddess that hath sever’d us,           204
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           208
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           212
Receiv’d a second life; and second father   
This lady makes him to me.   
  Alon.        I am hers,   
But, O, how oddly will it sound that I           216
Must ask my child forgiveness!   
  Pros.        There, sir, stop.   
Let us not burden our remembrances with   
A heaviness that’s gone.           220
  Gon.        I have inly wept,   
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           224
Which brought us hither.   
  Alon.        I say, Amen, Gonzalo!   
  Gon.  Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue   
Should become Kings of Naples? O, rejoice           228
Beyond a common joy, and set it down   
With gold on lasting pillars: in one voyage   
Did Claribel her husband find a Tunis,   
And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife           232
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.           236
Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart   
That doth not wish you joy!   
  Gon.        Be it so! Amen!   
 
Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boatswain amazedly following

O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us.           240
I prophesi’d, 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?           244
  Boats.  The best news is, that we have safely found   
Our king and company; the next, our ship—   
Which, but three glasses 13 since, we gave out split—   
Is tight and yare 14 and bravely rigg’d as when           248
We first put out to sea.   
  Ari.  [Aside to PROS.]  Sir, all this service   
Have I done since I went.   
  Pros.  [Aside to ARI.]  My tricksy spirit!           252
  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’d strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,           256
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 moe diversity of sounds, all horrible,           260
We were awak’d; straightway, at liberty;   
Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld   
Our royal, good, and gallant ship, our master   
Cap’ring to eye 15 her. On a trice, so please you,           264
Even in a dream, were we divided from them   
And were brought moping 16 hither.   
  Ari.        [Aside to PROS.]  Was ’t well done?   
  Pros.  [Aside to ARI.]  Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free.           268
  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.           272
  Pros.        Sir, my liege,   
Do not infest 17 your mind with beating on   
The strangeness of this business. At pick’d leisure,   
Which shall be shortly, single 18 I’ll resolve you,           276
Which to you shall seem probable, of every   
These happen’d accidents; till when, be cheerful   
And think of each thing well. [Aside to ARI.] Come hither, spirit.   
Set Caliban and his companions free;           280
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.   
 
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!           284
  Trin.  If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here’s a goodly sight.   
  Cal.  O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed!   
How fine my master is! I am afraid   
He will chastise me.           288
  Seb.        Ha, ha!   
What things are these, my lord Antonio?   
Will money buy ’em?   
  Ant.        Very like; one of them           292
Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.   
  Pros.  Mark but the badges 19 of these men, my lords,   
Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave,   
His mother was a witch, and one so strong           296
That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,   
And deal in her command without 20 her power.   
These three have robb’d me; and this demi-devil—   
For he’s a bastard one—had plotted with them           300
To take my life. Two of these fellows you   
Must know and own; this thing of darkness I   
Acknowledge mine.   
  Cal.        I shall be pinch’d to death.           304
  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 21 ’em?           308
How cam’st 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!           312
  Ste.  O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a cramp.   
  Pros.  You’d 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.           316
  Pros.  He is disproportion’d in his manners   
As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell;   
Take with you your companions. As you look   
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.           320
  Cal.  Ay, that I will; and I’ll be wise hereafter   
And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass   
Was I, to take this drunkard for a god   
And worship this dull fool!           324
  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           328
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           332
And the particular accidents gone by   
Since I came to this isle. An in the morn   
I’ll bring you to your ship and so to Naples,   
Where I have hope to see the nuptial           336
Of these our dear-belov’d solemnized;   
And thence retire me to my Milan, where   
Every third thought shall be my grave.   
  Alon.        I long           340
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,           344
And sail so expeditious that shall catch   
Your royal fleet far off. [Aside to ARI.] My Ariel, chick,   
That is thy charge. Then to the elements   
Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near.  Exeunt omnes.           348
 
Note 1. Fail. [back]
Note 2. Burden. [back]
Note 3. Protects from the weather. [back]
Note 4. Feel emotion as keenly. [back]
Note 5. Beings half as big as puppets. [back]
Note 6. Sympathetic. [back]
Note 7. Utterly. [back]
Note 8. Natural pity. [back]
Note 9. Shore of reason. [back]
Note 10. Take off my magician’s robes. [back]
Note 11. Deceive. [back]
Note 12. Wonder. [back]
Note 13. Hour-glasses. [back]
Note 14. Ready. [back]
Note 15. See. [back]
Note 16. Dazed. [back]
Note 17. Trouble. [back]
Note 18. Alone. [back]
Note 19. Showing they were Alonso’s servants. [back]
Note 20. Beyond. [back]
Note 21. Made drunk. [back]
 

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 confin’d by you,           4
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,   
Since I have my dukedom got   
And pardon’d the deceiver, dwell   
In this bare island by your spell;           8
But release me from my bands   
With the help of your good hands.   
Gentle breath of yours my sails   
Must fill, or else my project fails,           12
Which was to please. Now I want   
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,   
And my ending is despair,   
Unless I be reliev’d by prayer,           16
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.  Exit.

‘Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.’

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHFIELD.

      RIGHT HONOURABLE,
        I KNOW not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden: only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a godfather, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart’s content; which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world’s hopeful expectation.
    Your honour’s in all duty,       
    WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.   



EVEN as the sun with purple-colour’d face   
Had ta’en his last leave of the weeping morn,   
Rose-cheek’d Adonis hied him to the chase;   
Hunting he lov’d, but love he laugh’d to scorn;   
  Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,            5
  And like a bold-fac’d suitor ’gins to woo him.   
 
‘Thrice fairer than myself,’ thus she began,   
‘The field’s chief flower, sweet above compare,   
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,   
More white and red than doves or roses are;     10
  Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,   
  Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.   
 
‘Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,   
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;   
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed     15
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:   
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses;   
And being set, I ’ll smother thee with kisses:   
 
‘And yet not cloy thy lips with loath’d satiety,   
But rather famish them amid their plenty,     20
Making them red and pale with fresh variety;   
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:   
  A summer’s day will seem an hour but short,   
  Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.’   
 
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,     25
The precedent of pith and livelihood,   
And, trembling in her passion, calls it balm,   
Earth’s sovereign salve to do a goddess good:   
  Being so enrag’d, desire doth lend her force   
  Courageously to pluck him from his horse.     30
 
Over one arm the lusty courser’s rein,   
Under her other was the tender boy,   
Who blush’d and pouted in a dull disdain,   
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;   
  She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,     35
  He red for shame, but frosty in desire.   
 
The studded bridle on a ragged bough   
Nimbly she fastens;—O! how quick is love:—   
The steed is stalled up, and even now   
To tie the rider she begins to prove:     40
  Backward she push’d him, as she would be thrust,   
  And govern’d him in strength, though not in lust.   
 
So soon was she along, as he was down,   
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:   
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,     45
And ’gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips;   
  And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,   
  ‘If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.’   
 
He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears   
Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;     50
Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs   
To fan and blow them dry again she seeks:   
  He saith she is immodest, blames her miss;   
  What follows more she murders with a kiss.   
 
Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,     55
Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone,   
Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,   
Till either gorge be stuff’d or prey be gone;   
  Even so she kiss’d his brow, his cheek, his chin,   
  And where she ends she doth anew begin.     60
 
Forc’d to content, but never to obey,   
Panting he lies, and breatheth in her face;   
She feedeth on the steam, as on a prey,   
And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace;   
  Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers,     65
  So they were dew’d with such distilling showers.   
 
Look! how a bird lies tangled in a net,   
So fasten’d in her arms Adonis lies;   
Pure shame and aw’d resistance made him fret,   
Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes:     70
  Rain added to a river that is rank   
  Perforce will force it overflow the bank.   
 
Still she entreats, and prettily entreats,   
For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale;   
Still is he sullen, still he lowers and frets,     75
’Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy-pale;   
  Being red, she loves him best; and being white,   
  Her best is better’d with a more delight.   
 
Look how he can, she cannot choose but love;   
And by her fair immortal hand she swears,     80
From his soft bosom never to remove,   
Till he take truce with her contending tears,   
  Which long have rain’d, making her cheeks all wet;   
  And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt.   
 
Upon this promise did he raise his chin     85
Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave,   
Who, being look’d on, ducks as quickly in;   
So offers he to give what she did crave;   
  But when her lips were ready for his pay,   
  He winks, and turns his lips another way.     90
 
Never did passenger in summer’s heat   
More thirst for drink than she for this good turn.   
Her help she sees, but help she cannot get;   
She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn:   
  ‘O! pity,’ ’gan she cry, ‘flint-hearted boy:     95
  ’Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy?   
 
‘I have been woo’d, as I entreat thee now,   
Even by the stern and direful god of war,   
Whose sinewy neck in battle ne’er did bow,   
Who conquers where he comes in every jar;    100
  Yet hath he been my captive and my slave,   
  And begg’d for that which thou unask’d shalt have.   
 
‘Over my altars hath he hung his lance,   
His batter’d shield, his uncontrolled crest,   
And for my sake hath learn’d to sport and dance,    105
To toy, to wanton, dally, smile, and jest;   
  Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red,   
  Making my arms his field, his tent my bed.   
 
‘Thus he that overrul’d I oversway’d,   
Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain:    110
Strong-temper’d steel his stronger strength obey’d,   
Yet was he servile to my coy disdain.   
  O! be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,   
  For mastering her that foil’d the god of fight.   
 
‘Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine,—    115
Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red,—   
The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine:   
What seest thou in the ground? hold up thy head:   
  Look in mine eyeballs, there thy beauty lies;   
  Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes?    120
 
‘Art thou asham’d to kiss? then wink again,   
And I will wink; so shall the day seem night;   
Love keeps his revels where there are but twain;   
Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight:   
  These blue-vein’d violets whereon we lean    125
  Never can blab, nor know not what we mean.   
 
‘The tender spring upon thy tempting lip   
Shows thee unripe, yet mayst thou well be tasted.   
Make use of time, let not advantage slip;   
Beauty within itself should not be wasted:    130
  Fair flowers that are not gather’d in their prime   
  Rot and consume themselves in little time.   
 
‘Were I hard-favour’d, foul, or wrinkled-old,   
Ill-nurtur’d, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice,   
O’erworn, despised, rheumatic, and cold,    135
Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice,   
  Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee;   
  But having no defects, why dost abhor me?   
 
‘Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow;   
Mine eyes are grey and bright, and quick in turning;    140
My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow;   
My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning;   
  My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt,   
  Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt.   
 
‘Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear,    145
Or like a fairy trip upon the green,   
Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell’d hair,   
Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen:   
  Love is a spirit all compact of fire,   
  Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.    150
 
‘Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie;   
These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me;   
Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky,   
From morn till night, even where I list to sport me:   
  Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be    155
  That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee?   
 
‘Is thine own heart to thine own face affected?   
Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left?   
Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected,   
Steal thine own freedom, and complain on theft.    160
  Narcissus so himself himself forsook,   
  And died to kiss his shadow in the brook.   
 
‘Torches are made to light, jewels to wear,   
Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use,   
Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear;    165
Things growing to themselves are growth’s abuse:   
  Seeds spring from seeds, and beauty breedeth beauty;   
  Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty.   
 
‘Upon the earth’s increase why shouldst thou feed,   
Unless the earth with thy increase be fed?    170
By law of nature thou art bound to breed,   
That thine may live when thou thyself art dead;   
  And so in spite of death thou dost survive,   
  In that thy likeness still is left alive.’   
 
By this the love-sick queen began to sweat,    175
For where they lay the shadow had forsook them,   
And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat,   
With burning eye did hotly overlook them;   
  Wishing Adonis had his team to guide,   
  So he were like him and by Venus’ side.    180
 
And now Adonis with a lazy spright,   
And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye,   
His louring brows o’erwhelming his fair sight,   
Like misty vapours when they blot the sky,   
  Souring his cheeks, cries, ‘Fie! no more of love:    185
  The sun doth burn my face; I must remove.’   
 
‘Ay me,’ quoth Venus, ‘young, and so unkind?   
What bare excuses mak’st thou to be gone;   
I ’ll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind   
Shall cool the heat of this descending sun:    190
  I ’ll make a shadow for thee of my hairs;   
  If they burn too, I ’ll quench them with my tears.   
 
‘The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm,   
And lo! I lie between that sun and thee:   
The heat I have from thence doth little harm,    195
Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me;   
  And were I not immortal, life were done   
  Between this heavenly and earthly sun.   
 
‘Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel?   
Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth.    200
Art thou a woman’s son, and canst not feel   
What ’tis to love? how want of love tormenteth?   
  O! had thy mother borne so hard a mind,   
  She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind.   
 
‘What am I that thou shouldst contemn me this?    205
Or what great danger dwells upon my suit?   
What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss?   
Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be mute:   
  Give me one kiss, I ’ll give it thee again,   
  And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain.    210
 
‘Fie! lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone,   
Well-painted idol, image dull and dead,   
Statue contenting but the eye alone,   
Thing like a man, but of no woman bred:   
  Thou art no man, though of a man’s complexion,    215
  For men will kiss even by their own direction.’   
 
This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,   
And swelling passion doth provoke a pause;   
Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong;   
Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause:    220
  And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak,   
  And now her sobs do her intendments break.   
 
Sometimes she shakes her head, and then his hand;   
Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground;   
Sometimes her arms infold him like a band:    225
She would, he will not in her arms be bound;   
  And when from thence he struggles to be gone,   
  She locks her lily fingers one in one.   
 
‘Fondling,’ she saith, ‘since I have hemm’d thee here   
Within the circuit of this ivory pale,    230
I ’ll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;   
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:   
  Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry,   
  Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.   
 
‘Within this limit is relief enough,    235
Sweet bottom-grass and high delightful plain,   
Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough,   
To shelter thee from tempest and from rain:   
  Then be my deer, since I am such a park;   
  No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand bark.’    240
 
At this Adonis smiles as in disdain,   
That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple:   
Love made those hollows, if himself were slain,   
He might be buried in a tomb so simple;   
  Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie,    245
  Why, there Love liv’d and there he could not die.   
 
These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits,   
Open’d their mouths to swallow Venus’ liking.   
Being mad before, how doth she now for wits?   
Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking?    250
  Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn,   
  To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn!   
 
Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say?   
Her words are done, her woes the more increasing;   
The time is spent, her object will away,    255
And from her twining arms doth urge releasing:   
  ‘Pity,’ she cries; ‘some favour, some remorse!’   
  Away he springs, and hasteth to his horse.   
 
But, lo! from forth a copse that neighbours by,   
A breeding jennet, lusty, young, and proud,    260
Adonis’ tramping courser doth espy,   
And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud:   
  The strong-neck’d steed, being tied unto a tree,   
  Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he.   
 
Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,    265
And now his woven girths he breaks asunder;   
The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds,   
Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven’s thunder;   
  The iron bit he crushes ’tween his teeth,   
  Controlling what he was controlled with.    270
 
His ears up-prick’d; his braided hanging mane   
Upon his compass’d crest now stand on end;   
His nostrils drink the air, and forth again,   
As from a furnace, vapours doth he send:   
  His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire,    275
  Shows his hot courage and his high desire.   
 
Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps,   
With gentle majesty and modest pride;   
Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps,   
As who should say, ‘Lo! thus my strength is tried;    280
  And this I do to captivate the eye   
  Of the fair breeder that is standing by.’   
 
What recketh he his rider’s angry stir,   
His flattering ‘Holla,’ or his ‘Stand, I say?’   
What cares he now for curb or pricking spur?    285
For rich caparisons or trapping gay?   
  He sees his love, and nothing else he sees,   
  Nor nothing else with his proud sight agrees.   
 
Look, when a painter would surpass the life,   
In limning out a well-proportion’d steed,    290
His art with nature’s workmanship at strife,   
As if the dead the living should exceed;   
  So did this horse excel a common one,   
  In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone.   
 
Round-hoof’d, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,    295
Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide,   
High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong,   
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide:   
  Look, what a horse should have he did not lack,   
  Save a proud rider on so proud a back.    300
 
Sometimes he scuds far off, and there he stares;   
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather;   
To bid the wind a base he now prepares,   
And whe’r he run or fly they know not whether;   
  For through his mane and tail the high wind sings,    305
  Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather’d wings.   
 
He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her;   
She answers him as if she knew his mind;   
Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her,   
She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind,    310
  Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels,   
  Beating his kind embracements with her heels.   
 
Then, like a melancholy malcontent,   
He vails his tail that, like a falling plume   
Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent:    315
He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume.   
  His love, perceiving how he is enrag’d,   
  Grew kinder, and his fury was assuag’d.   
 
His testy master goeth about to take him;   
When lo! the unback’d breeder, full of fear,    320
Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him,   
With her the horse, and left Adonis there.   
  As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them,   
  Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them.   
 
All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits,    325
Banning his boisterous and unruly beast:   
And now the happy season once more fits,   
That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest;   
  For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong   
  When it is barr’d the aidance of the tongue.    330
 
An oven that is stopp’d, or river stay’d,   
Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage:   
So of concealed sorrow may be said;   
Free vent of words love’s fire doth assuage;   
  But when the heart’s attorney once is mute,    335
  The client breaks, as desperate in his suit.   
 
He sees her coming, and begins to glow,—   
Even as a dying coal revives with wind,—   
And with his bonnet hides his angry brow;   
Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind,    340
  Taking no notice that she is so nigh,   
  For all askance he holds her in his eye.   
 
O! what a sight it was, wistly to view   
How she came stealing to the wayward boy;   
To note the fighting conflict of her hue,    345
How white and red each other did destroy:   
  But now her cheek was pale, and by and by   
  It flash’d forth fire, as lightning from the sky.   
 
Now was she just before him as he sat,   
And like a lowly lover down she kneels;    350
With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat,   
Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels:   
  His tenderer cheek receives her soft hand’s print,   
  As apt as new-fall’n snow takes any dint.   
 
O! what a war of looks was then between them;    355
Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing;   
His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them;   
Her eyes woo’d still, his eyes disdain’d the wooing:   
  And all this dumb play had his acts made plain   
  With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain.    360
 
Full gently now she takes him by the hand,   
A lily prison’d in a gaol of snow,   
Or ivory in an alabaster band;   
So white a friend engirts so white a foe:   
  This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,    365
  Show’d like two silver doves that sit a-billing.   
 
Once more the engine of her thoughts began:   
‘O fairest mover on this mortal round,   
Would thou wert as I am, and I a man,   
My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound;    370
  For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee,   
  Though nothing but my body’s bane would cure thee.’   
 
‘Give me my hand,’ saith he, ‘why dost thou feel it?’   
‘Give me my heart,’ saith she, ‘and thou shalt have it;   
O! give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it,    375
And being steel’d, soft sighs can never grave it:   
  Then love’s deep groans I never shall regard,   
  Because Adonis’ heart hath made mine hard.’   
 
‘For shame,’ he cries, ‘let go, and let me go;   
My day’s delight is past, my horse is gone,    380
And ’tis your fault I am bereft him so:   
I pray you hence, and leave me here alone:   
  For all my mind, my thought, my busy care,   
  Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.’   
 
Thus she replies: ‘Thy palfrey, as he should,    385
Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire:   
Affection is a coal that must be cool’d;   
Else, suffer’d, it will set the heart on fire:   
  The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none;   
  Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone.    390
 
‘How like a jade he stood, tied to the tree,   
Servilely master’d with a leathern rein!   
But when he saw his love, his youth’s fair fee,   
He held such petty bondage in disdain;   
  Throwing the base thong from his bending crest,    395
  Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast.   
 
‘Who sees his true-love in her naked bed,   
Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white,   
But, when his glutton eye so full hath fed,   
His other agents aim at like delight?    400
  Who is so faint, that dare not be so bold   
  To touch the fire, the weather being cold?   
 
‘Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy;   
And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee,   
To take advantage on presented joy;    405
Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee.   
  O learn to love; the lesson is but plain,   
  And once made perfect, never lost again.’   
 
‘I know not love,’ quoth he, ‘nor will not know it,   
Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it;    410
’Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it;   
My love to love is love but to disgrace it;   
  For I have heard it is a life in death,   
  That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath.   
 
‘Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish’d?    415
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?   
If springing things be any jot diminish’d,   
They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth:   
  The colt that ’s back’d and burden’d being young   
  Loseth his pride and never waxeth strong.    420
 
‘You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part,   
And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat:   
Remove your siege from my unyielding heart;   
To love’s alarms it will not ope the gate:   
  Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery;    425
  For where a heart is hard, they make no battery.’   
 
‘What! canst thou talk?’ quoth she, ‘hast thou a tongue?   
O! would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing;   
Thy mermaid’s voice hath done me double wrong;   
I had my load before, now press’d with bearing:    430
  Melodious discord, heavenly tune, harsh-sounding,   
  Ear’s deep-sweet music, and heart’s deep-sore wounding.   
 
‘Had I no eyes, but ears, my ears would love   
That inward beauty and invisible;   
Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move    435
Each part in me that were but sensible:   
  Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,   
  Yet should I be in love by touching thee.   
 
‘Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me,   
And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch,    440
And nothing but the very smell were left me,   
Yet would my love to thee be still as much;   
  For from the still’tory of thy face excelling   
  Comes breath perfum’d that breedeth love by smelling.   
 
‘But O! what banquet wert thou to the taste,    445
Being nurse and feeder of the other four;   
Would they not wish the feast might ever last,   
And bid Suspicion double-lock the door,   
  Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,   
  Should, by his stealing in, disturb the feast?’    450
 
Once more the ruby-colour’d portal open’d,   
Which to his speech did honey passage yield;   
Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken’d   
Wrack to the seaman, tempest to the field,   
  Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,    455
  Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.   
 
This ill presage advisedly she marketh:   
Even as the wind is hush’d before it raineth,   
Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh,   
Or as the berry breaks before it staineth,    460
  Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,   
  His meaning struck her ere his words begun.   
 
And at his look she flatly falleth down,   
For looks kill love and love by looks reviveth;   
A smile recures the wounding of a frown;    465
But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth!   
  The silly boy, believing she is dead,   
  Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red;   
 
And all-amaz’d brake off his late intent,   
For sharply he did think to reprehend her,    470
Which cunning love did wittily prevent:   
Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her!   
  For on the grass she lies as she were slain,   
  Till his breath breatheth life in her again.   
 
He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks,    475
He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard,   
He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks   
To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr’d:   
  He kisses her; and she, by her good will,   
  Will never rise, so he will kiss her still.    480
 
The night of sorrow now is turn’d to day:   
Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth,   
Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array   
He cheers the morn and all the world relieveth:   
  And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,    485
  So is her face illumin’d with her eye;   
 
Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix’d,   
As if from thence they borrow’d all their shine.   
Were never four such lamps together mix’d,   
Had not his clouded with his brows’ repine;    490
  But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light,   
  Shone like the moon in water seen by night.   
 
‘O! where am I?’ quoth she, ‘in earth or heaven,   
Or in the ocean drench’d, or in the fire?   
What hour is this? or morn or weary even?    495
Do I delight to die, or life desire?   
  But now I liv’d, and life was death’s annoy;   
  But now I died, and death was lively joy.   
 
‘O! thou didst kill me; kill me once again:   
Thy eyes’ shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine,    500
Hath taught them scornful tricks and such disdain   
That they have murder’d this poor heart of mine;   
  And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen,   
  But for thy piteous lips no more had seen.   
 
‘Long may they kiss each other for this cure!    505
O! never let their crimson liveries wear;   
And as they last, their verdure still endure,   
To drive infection from the dangerous year:   
  That the star-gazers, having writ on death,   
  May say, the plague is banish’d by thy breath.    510
 
‘Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted,   
What bargains may I make, still to be sealing?   
To sell myself I can be well contented,   
So thou wilt buy and pay and use good dealing;   
  Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips    515
  Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lips.   
 
‘A thousand kisses buys my heart from me;   
And pay them at thy leisure, one by one.   
What is ten hundred touches unto thee?   
Are they not quickly told and quickly gone?    520
  Say, for non-payment that the debt should double,   
  Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?’   
 
‘Fair queen,’ quoth he, ‘if any love you owe me,   
Measure my strangeness with my unripe years:   
Before I know myself, seek not to know me;    525
No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears:   
  The mellow plum doth fall, the green sticks fast,   
  Or being early pluck’d is sour to taste.   
 
‘Look! the world’s comforter, with weary gait,   
His day’s hot task hath ended in the west;    530
The owl, night’s herald, shrieks, ’tis very late;   
The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest,   
  And coal-black clouds that shadow heaven’s light   
  Do summon us to part and bid good night.   
 
‘Now let me say good night, and so say you;    535
If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.’   
‘Good night,’ quoth she; and ere he says adieu,   
The honey fee of parting tender’d is:   
  Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace;   
  Incorporate then they seem, face grows to face.    540
 
Till, breathless, he disjoin’d, and backward drew   
The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth,   
Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew,   
Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drouth:   
  He with her plenty press’d, she faint with dearth,    545
  Their lips together glu’d, fall to the earth.   
 
Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey,   
And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth;   
Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey,   
Paying what ransom the insulter willeth;    550
  Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high,   
  That she will draw his lips’ rich treasure dry.   
 
And having felt the sweetness of the spoil,   
With blindfold fury she begins to forage;   
Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil,    555
And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage;   
  Planting oblivion, beating reason back,   
  Forgetting shame’s pure blush and honour’s wrack.   
 
Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard embracing,   
Like a wild bird being tam’d with too much handling,    560
Or as the fleet-foot roe that ’s tir’d with chasing,   
Or like the froward infant still’d with dandling,   
  He now obeys, and now no more resisteth,   
  While she takes all she can, not all she listeth.   
 
What wax so frozen but dissolves with tempering,    565
And yields at last to every light impression?   
Things out of hope are compass’d oft with venturing,   
Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission:   
  Affection faints not like a pale-fac’d coward,   
  But then woos best when most his choice is froward.    570
 
When he did frown, O! had she then gave over,   
Such nectar from his lips she had not suck’d.   
Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover;   
What though the rose have prickles, yet ’tis pluck’d:   
  Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast,    575
  Yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.   
 
For pity now she can no more detain him;   
The poor fool prays her that he may depart:   
She is resolv’d no longer to restrain him,   
Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart,    580
  The which, by Cupid’s bow she doth protest,   
  He carries thence incaged in his breast.   
 
‘Sweet boy,’ she says, ‘this night I ’ll waste in sorrow,   
For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch.   
Tell me, Love’s master, shall we meet to-morrow?    585
Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the match?’   
  He tells her, no; to-morrow he intends   
  To hunt the boar with certain of his friends.   
 
‘The boar!’ quoth she; whereat a sudden pale,   
Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose,    590
Usurps her cheeks, she trembles at his tale,   
And on his neck her yoking arms she throws:   
  She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck,   
  He on her belly falls, she on her back.   
 
Now is she in the very lists of love,    595
Her champion mounted for the hot encounter:   
All is imaginary she doth prove,   
He will not manage her, although he mount her;   
  That worse than Tantalus’ is her annoy,   
  To clip Elysium and to lack her joy.    600