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SCENE I.- Another part of the Island.



Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have cause (So have we all) of joy; for our escape İs much beyond our loss: Our hint of woe Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,

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
Our sorrow with our comfort.

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

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

By and by it will strike.

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Seb. One: Tell.

Seb. What if he had said, widower Æneas too?

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's of- good lord, how you take it!


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Ant. Fye, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! next?
Alon. I pr'ythee spare.

Gon. Well, I have done: But yet

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good bring forth more islands.

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Ant. He could not miss it.

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

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.

Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.

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

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

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.

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 drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness, and glosses; being rather new dy'd, than stain'd with salt water.

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, he lies?

Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Africk, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel, to the king of Tunis.

Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

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

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time.
Ant. Widow? a pox o'that!

widow in? Widow Dido!

How came that

Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. Adr. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp.
Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.
Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy

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,

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. Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido. Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Alon. You cram these words into mine ears,


The stomach of my sense: 'Would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,
I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish

Hath made his meal on thee!


Sir, he may live;

I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
As stooping to relieve him; I not doubt,
He came alive to land.


No, no, he s gone.


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Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am no

thing to you : so you may continue, and laugh at
That would not bless our Europe with your nothing still.

Ant. What a blow was there given ?
But rather lose her to an African;

Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.
Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye, Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle ; you
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.

would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would Alon.

Pr'ythee, peace. continue in it five weeks without changing.
Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd other-

Enter Ariel invisible, playing solemn musick.
By all of us; and the fair soul herself

Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Weigh’d, between lothness and obedience, at

Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure your son,

my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me I fear, for ever : Mian and Naples have

asleep, for I am very heavy? More widows in them of this business' making, Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. Than we bring men to comfort them : the fault's

(All sleep but Alox. Sex. and ANT. Your own.

Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.

Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts : 1
My lord Sebastian,

The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, They are inclin'd to do so.
And time to speak it in; you rub the sore,


Please you, sir,
When you should bring the plaster.

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:

Very well.

It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
Ant. And most chirurgeonly.

It is a comforter.
Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,


We two, my lord,
When you are cloudy.

Will guard your person while you take your rejl,
Foul weather ?

And watch your safety.

Very foul. Alon.

Thank you : wondrous heavy. Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,

[Alonso sleeps. Erit ARIEL .Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.

Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them ?

Or docks, or mallows. Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.
Gon. And were the king of it, What would I Seb.

Why do?

Doth it not then our eye-lids sink? I find not
Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine. Myself dispos'd to sleep.
Gon. ' the commonwealth, I would by con- Ant.

Nor I; my spirits are nimble. traries

They fell together all, as by consent ;
Execute all things: for no kind of traffick

They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Would I admit; no name of magistrate ;

Worthy Sebastian ?-0, what might ?—No more:-
Letters should not be known; no use of service, And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,
Of riches, or of poverty ; no contracts,

What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee;
Successions; bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none :

No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil :

My strong imagination sees a crown
No occupation; all men idle, all ;

Dropping upon thy head.
And women too; but innocent and pure :


What, art thou waking?
No sovereignty :

Ant. Do you not hear me speak?
And yet he would be king on't. Seb.

I do; and, surely,
Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets It is a sleepy language ; and thou speak'st
the beginning.

Out of thy sleep: What is it thou did'st say?
Gon. All things in common nature should pro- This is a strange repose, to be asleep


eyes wide open ; standing, speaking, moving,
Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony, And yet so fast asleep.
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Ant.

Noble Sebastian,
Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep -- die rather; wink'st
Of its own kind, all foizon, all abundance,

Whiles thou art waking.
To feed my innocent people.


Thou dost snore distinctly;
Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects ?

There's meaning in thy snores.
Ant. None, man ; all idle; whores and knaves, Ant. I am more serious than my custom you

Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, ! Must be so too, if heed me; which to do
To excel the golden age.

Trebles thee o'er.
'Save his majesty!


Well, I am standing rates
Ant. Long live Gonzalo!

Ant. I'll teach you how to flow.
And, do you mark me sir?- Seb.

Do so: to ebb,
Alon. Pr’ythee, no more: thcu dost talk nothing Hereditary sloths instructs me.


0, Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, use to laugh at nothing.

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Most often do so near the bottom run, Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.

By their own fear, or sloth.

to me.

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O, out of that no hope,

What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is Another way so high an hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

Musick. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible.

Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger That these, his friends, are in; and sends me forth,

But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with me, (For else his project dies,) to keep them living. That Ferdinand is drown'd?



He's gone.

Then, tell me,


Who's the next heir of Naples ?
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
Be rough and razorable; she, from whom
We were all sea-swallow'd, though some cast again;
And, by that, destin'd to perform an act,
Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come,
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 There is some space.

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A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples? · Keep in Tunis,
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
As amply and unnecessarily,

As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?
Seb. Methinks, I do.

And how does your content Tender your own good fortune?


I remember,

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And, look, how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater 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 it were a kybe,
"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,
No better than the earth he lies upon,

If he were that which now he's like: whom I,
With this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever: whiles you, doing thus,
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;
They'll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.


Shall be my precedent;

I'll come by Naples.

Thy case, dear friend,
as thou got'st Milan,

Draw thy sword: one stroke

Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st;
And I the king shall love thee.

Draw together:

And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.


O, but one word.

[They converse apart.

[Sings in GONZALO's ear.

While you here do snoaring 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, preserve the king!
[They awake.
Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you

Wherefore this ghastly looking?

Gon. What's the matter? Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions; did it not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly.

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.

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 cry'd; as mine eyes open'd,
I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise,
That's verity: 'Best stand upon our guard;
Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.
Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make fur-
ther search
For my poor son.


Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island.


Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have

done :

Lead away.


So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt.

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 a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire, Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid them; but

For every trifle are they set upon me
Sometimes like apes, that moe and chatter at me,
And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I
All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues,
Do hiss me into madness: — -Lo! now! lo!

Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me,
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 bumbard 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 chuse 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. 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 to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a inan! 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 thunder-bolt. [Thunder.] Alas! the storm is come again: my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; 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 a-shore;

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: Well, here's my comfort. [Drinks.

The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,

The gunner, and his mate,

Lov'd Mall, 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-e'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: O!

Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not 'scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever went on four legs, cannot make him give ground: and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at nostrils.

Cal. The spirit torments me: 0!

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.

Cal. Do not torment me, pr'ythee; 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.

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 drowned; 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, ·

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 of this moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos?

Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunderstroke: - But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now, thou art not drowned. Is the storm

over-blown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's

gaberdine, for fear of the storm: And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scap'd!

Ste. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.

Cal. These be fine things, and if they be no: sprites.

That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor:
I will kneel to him.

Ste. How did'st thou 'scape? how cam'st thou hither? swear by this bottle, how thou cam'st hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved over-board, by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast a-shore.

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 a-shore, man, like a duck; I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn.

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 sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf? how does thine ague?

Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven?

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A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wond'rous man.

Trin. A most ridiculous monster! to make a wonder of a poor drunkard.

Cal. I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; Shew thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee To clust'ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee Young sea-mells from the rock: Wilt thou go with me?

Ste. I pr'ythee 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.

Cal. Farewell, master: farewell, farewell.
[Sings drunkenly

Trin. A howling monster; a drunken monster
Cal. No more dams I'll make for fish;
Nor fetch in firing

At requiring,

Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish; ’Ban’Ban, Ca


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.



No, precious creature: I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo, While I sit lazy by.


As well as it does you With much more ease; And yours against.


It would become me

and I should do it

And kiss thy foot: I pr'ythee, be my god.

Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster; when his god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle.

Cal. I'll kiss thy foot: I'll swear myself thy sub


Ste. Come on then; down and swear.

Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppyheaded monster: a most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him,—

Ste. Come, kiss.

Trin.- -but that the poor monster's in drink; An abominable monster !

Cal. I'll shew thee the best springs; I'll pluck❘ thee berries.

I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.

SCENE I.- Before Prospero's Cell.

Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log.


Fer. There be some sports are painful; but their

Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters
Point to rich ends. This my mean task would be
As heavy to me, as 'tis 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;
And he's compos'd of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,
Upon a sore injunction: My sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work; and says, such


Had ne'er like éxecutor. I forget:

But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours;
Most busy-less, when I do it.

Enter MIRANDA, and PROSPERO at a distance.
Alas, now! pray you,
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
Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;
He's safe for these three hours.


O most dear mistress,
The sun will set, before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.


I'll bear your logs the while
I'll carry it to the pile.

If you'll sit down,

Pray, give me that;


for my good will is to it,

Poor worm! thou art infected;

This visitation shews it.

Fer. No, noble mistress;


You look wearily.
'tis fresh morning with

When you are by at night.
(Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,)
What is your name?


I do beseech you,

Miranda :

I have broke your hest to say so!

- O my father.
Admir'd Miranda
Indeed, the top of admiration; worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
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
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd,
And put it to the foil: But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best.

I do not know
One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have i


More that I may call men, than you, good friena

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