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                                      1612
                                  THE TEMPEST
                             by William Shakespeare
                     DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  ALONSO, King of Naples
  SEBASTIAN, his brother
  PROSPERO, the right Duke of Milan
  ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan
  FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples
  GONZALO, an honest old counsellor

    Lords
  ADRIAN
  FRANCISCO
  CALIBAN, a savage and deformed slave
  TRINCULO, a jester
  STEPHANO, a drunken butler
  MASTER OF A SHIP
  BOATSWAIN
  MARINERS

  MIRANDA, daughter to Prospero

  ARIEL, an airy spirit

    Spirits
  IRIS
  CERES
  JUNO
  NYMPHS
  REAPERS
  Other Spirits attending on Prospero

                         SCENE:
        A ship at sea; afterwards an uninhabited island


                           THE TEMPEST
                         ACT I. SCENE 1

         On a ship at sea; a tempestuous noise of thunder
                      and lightning heard
              Enter a SHIPMASTER and a BOATSWAIN

  MASTER. Boatswain!
  BOATSWAIN. Here, master; what cheer?
  MASTER. Good! Speak to th' mariners; fall to't yarely, or
    we run ourselves aground; bestir, bestir.               Exit

                       Enter MARINERS

  BOATSWAIN. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!
    yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to th' master's
    whistle. Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough.

          Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND
                     GONZALO, and OTHERS

  ALONSO. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master?
    Play the men.
  BOATSWAIN. I pray now, keep below.
  ANTONIO. Where is the master, boson?
  BOATSWAIN. Do you not hear him? You mar our labour;
    keep your cabins; you do assist the storm.
  GONZALO. Nay, good, be patient.
  BOATSWAIN. When the sea is. Hence! What cares these
    roarers for the name of king? To cabin! silence! Trouble
    us not.
  GONZALO. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.
  BOATSWAIN. None that I more love than myself. You are
    counsellor; if you can command these elements to
    silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not
    hand a rope more. Use your authority; if you cannot, give
    thanks you have liv'd so long, and make yourself ready
    in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so
    hap.-Cheerly, good hearts!-Out of our way, I say.
                                                            Exit
  GONZALO. I have great comfort from this fellow. Methinks
    he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is
    perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging;
    make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth
    little advantage. If he be not born to be hang'd, our
    case is miserable.                                    Exeunt

                     Re-enter BOATSWAIN

  BOATSWAIN. Down with the topmast. Yare, lower, lower!
    Bring her to try wi' th' maincourse.  [A cry within]  A
    plague upon this howling! They are louder than the
    weather or our office.

           Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO

    Yet again! What do you here? Shall we give o'er, and
    drown? Have you a mind to sink?
  SEBASTIAN. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,
    incharitable dog!
  BOATSWAIN. Work you, then.
  ANTONIO. Hang, cur; hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker;
    we are less afraid to be drown'd than thou art.
  GONZALO. I'll warrant him for drowning, though the ship were
    no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched
    wench.
  BOATSWAIN. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; set her two courses; off
    to sea again; lay her off.

                    Enter MARINERS, Wet
  MARINERS. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!
                                                          Exeunt
  BOATSWAIN. What, must our mouths be cold?
  GONZALO. The King and Prince at prayers!
    Let's assist them,
    For our case is as theirs.
  SEBASTIAN. I am out of patience.
  ANTONIO. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards.
    This wide-chopp'd rascal-would thou mightst lie drowning
    The washing of ten tides!
  GONZALO. He'll be hang'd yet,
    Though every drop of water swear against it,
    And gape at wid'st to glut him.
    [A confused noise within: Mercy on us!
    We split, we split! Farewell, my wife and children!
    Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we split!]
  ANTONIO. Let's all sink wi' th' King.
  SEBASTIAN. Let's take leave of him.
                                    Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN
  GONZALO. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for
    an acre of barren ground-long heath, brown furze, any
    thing. The wills above be done, but I would fain die
    dry death.                                            Exeunt


                            SCENE 2

              The Island. Before PROSPERO'S cell
                  Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA

  MIRANDA. 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 th' welkin's cheek,
    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
    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
    The fraughting souls within her.
  PROSPERO. Be conected;
    No more amazement; tell your piteous heart
    There's no harm done.
  MIRANDA. O, woe the day!
  PROSPERO. No harm.
    I have done nothing but in care of thee,
    Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who
    Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing
    Of whence I am, nor that I am more better
    Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
    And thy no greater father.
  MIRANDA. More to know
    Did never meddle with my thoughts.
  PROSPERO. 'Tis time
    I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,
    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,
    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
    Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink.
    Sit down, for thou must now know farther.
  MIRANDA. You have often
    Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd,
    And left me to a bootless inquisition,
    Concluding 'Stay; not yet.'
  PROSPERO. The hour's now come;
    The very minute bids thee ope thine ear.
    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.
  MIRANDA. Certainly, sir, I can.
  PROSPERO. By what? By any other house, or person?
    Of any thing the image, tell me, that
    Hath kept with thy remembrance?
  MIRANDA. '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?
  PROSPERO. 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 of time?
    If thou rememb'rest aught, ere thou cam'st here,
    How thou cam'st here thou mayst.
  MIRANDA. But that I do not.
  PROSPERO. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
    Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and
    A prince of power.
  MIRANDA. Sir, are not you my father?
  PROSPERO. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
    She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father
    Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir
    And princess no worse issued.
  MIRANDA. O, the heavens!
    What foul play had we that we came from thence?
    Or blessed was't we did?
  PROSPERO. Both, both, my girl.
    By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence;
    But blessedly holp hither.
  MIRANDA. O, my heart bleeds
    To think o' th' teen that I have turn'd you to,
    Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.
  PROSPERO. My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio-
    I pray thee, mark me that a brother should
    Be so perfidious. He, whom next thyself
    Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put
    The manage of my state; as at that time
    Through all the signories it was the first,
    And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed
    In dignity, and for the liberal arts
    Without a parallel, those being all my study-
    The government I cast upon my brother
    And to my state grew stranger, being transported
    And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle-
    Dost thou attend me?
  MIRANDA. Sir, most heedfully.
  PROSPERO. Being once perfected how to grant suits,
    How to deny them, who t' advance, and who
    To trash for over-topping, new created
    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' th' state
    To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was
    The ivy which had hid my princely trunk
    And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not.
  MIRANDA. O, good sir, I do!
  PROSPERO. I pray thee, mark me.
    I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
    To closeness and the bettering of my mind
    With that which, but by being so retir'd,
    O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother
    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,
    A confidence sans 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,
    Made such a sinner of his memory,
    To credit his own lie-he did believe
    He was indeed the Duke; out o' th' substitution,
    And executing th' outward face of royalty
    With all prerogative. Hence his ambition growing-
    Dost thou hear?
  MIRANDA. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
  PROSPERO. To have no screen between this part he play'd
    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,
    So dry he was for sway, wi' th' 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!-
    To most ignoble stooping.
  MIRANDA. O the heavens!
  PROSPERO. Mark his condition, and th' event, then tell me
    If this might be a brother.
  MIRANDA. I should sin
    To think but nobly of my grandmother:
    Good wombs have borne bad sons.
  PROSPERO. Now the condition:
    This King of Naples, being an enemy
    To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
    Which was, that he, in lieu o' th' premises,
    Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,
    Should presently extirpate me and mine
    Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan
    With all the honours on my brother. Whereon,
    A treacherous army levied, one midnight
    Fated to th' purpose, did Antonio open
    The gates of Milan; and, i' th' dead of darkness,
    The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence
    Me and thy crying self.
  MIRANDA. Alack, for pity!
    I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then,
    Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint
    That wrings mine eyes to't.
  PROSPERO. Hear a little further,
    And then I'll bring thee to the present busines
    Which now's upon 's; without the which this story
    Were most impertinent.
  MIRANDA. Wherefore did they not
    That hour destroy us?
  PROSPERO. Well demanded, wench!
    My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,
    So dear the love my people bore me; nor set
    A mark so bloody on the business; but
    With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
    In few, they hurried us aboard a bark;
    Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared
    A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigg'd,
    Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
    Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,
    To cry to th' sea, that roar'd to us; to sigh
    To th' winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
    Did us but loving wrong.
  MIRANDA. Alack, what trouble
    Was I then to you!
  PROSPERO. O, a cherubin
    Thou wast that did preserve me! Thou didst smile,
    Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
    When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,
    Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me
    An undergoing stomach, to bear up
    Against what should ensue.
  MIRANDA. How came we ashore?
  PROSPERO. By Providence divine.
    Some food we had and some fresh water that
    A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
    Out of his charity, who being then appointed
    Master of this design, did give us, with
    Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,
    Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,
    Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me
    From mine own library with volumes that
    I prize above my dukedom.
  MIRANDA. Would I might
    But ever see that man!
  PROSPERO. Now I arise.                    [Puts on his mantle]
    Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
    Here in this island we arriv'd; and here
    Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
    Than other princess' can, that have more time
    For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.
  MIRANDA. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you,
      sir,
    For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason
    For raising this sea-storm?
  PROSPERO. Know thus far forth:
    By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,
    Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
    Brought to this shore; and by my prescience
    I find my zenith doth depend upon
    A most auspicious star, whose influence
    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 dullness,
    And give it way. I know thou canst not choose.
                                                [MIRANDA sleeps]
    Come away, servant; come; I am ready now.
    Approach, my Ariel. Come.

                        Enter ARIEL

  ARIEL. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
    To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
    To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
    On the curl'd clouds. To thy strong bidding task
    Ariel and all his quality.
  PROSPERO. Hast thou, spirit,
    Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
  ARIEL. To every article.
    I boarded the King's ship; now on the beak,
    Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
    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 lightning, the precursors
    O' th' 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,
    Yea, his dread trident shake.
  PROSPERO. My brave spirit!
    Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
    Would not infect his reason?
  ARIEL. 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,
    Then all afire with me; the King's son, Ferdinand,
    With hair up-staring-then like reeds, not hair-
    Was the first man that leapt; cried 'Hell is empty,
    And all the devils are here.'
  PROSPERO. Why, that's my spirit!
    But was not this nigh shore?
  ARIEL. Close by, my master.
  PROSPERO. But are they, Ariel, safe?
  ARIEL. 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.
    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.
  PROSPERO. Of the King's ship,
    The mariners, say how thou hast dispos'd,
    And all the rest o' th' fleet?
  ARIEL. Safely in harbour
    Is the King's ship; in the deep nook, where once
    Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
    From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid;
    The mariners all under hatches stowed,
    Who, with a charm join'd to their suff'red labour,
    I have left asleep; and for the rest o' th' fleet,
    Which I dispers'd, they all have met again,
    And are upon the Mediterranean flote
    Bound sadly home for Naples,
    Supposing that they saw the King's ship wreck'd,
    And his great person perish.
  PROSPERO. Ariel, thy charge
    Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work.
    What is the time o' th' day?
  ARIEL. Past the mid season.
  PROSPERO. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now
    Must by us both be spent most preciously.
  ARIEL. 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.
  PROSPERO. How now, moody?
    What is't thou canst demand?
  ARIEL. My liberty.
  PROSPERO. Before the time be out? No more!
  ARIEL. I prithee,
    Remember I have done thee worthy service,
    Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd
    Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst promise
    To bate me a full year.
  PROSPERO. Dost thou forget
    From what a torment I did free thee?
  ARIEL. No.
  PROSPERO. Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze
    Of the salt deep,
    To run upon the sharp wind of the north,
    To do me business in the veins o' th' earth
    When it is bak'd with frost.
  ARIEL. I do not, sir.
  PROSPERO. 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?
  ARIEL. No, sir.
  PROSPERO. Thou hast. Where was she born?
    Speak; tell me.
  ARIEL. Sir, in Argier.
  PROSPERO. O, was she so? I must
    Once in a month recount what thou hast been,
    Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,
    For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
    To enter human hearing, from Argier
    Thou know'st was banish'd; for one thing she did
    They would not take her life. Is not this true?
  ARIEL. Ay, sir.
  PROSPERO. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,
    And here was left by th'sailors. Thou, my slave,
    As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant;
    And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
    To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
    Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
    By help of her more potent ministers,
    And in her most unmitigable rage,
    Into a cloven pine; within which rift
    Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain
    A dozen years; within which space she died,
    And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans
    As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island-
    Save for the son that she did litter here,
    A freckl'd whelp, hag-born-not honour'd with
    A human shape.
  ARIEL. Yes, Caliban her son.
  PROSPERO. 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
    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
    The pine, and let thee out.
  ARIEL. I thank thee, master.
  PROSPERO. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak
    And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till
    Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.
  ARIEL. Pardon, master;
    I will be correspondent to command,
    And do my spriting gently.
  PROSPERO. Do so; and after two days
    I will discharge thee.
  ARIEL. That's my noble master!
    What shall I do? Say what. What shall I do?
  PROSPERO. Go make thyself like a nymph o' th' 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
    Awake, dear heart, awake; thou hast slept well;
    Awake.
  MIRANDA. The strangeness of your story put
    Heaviness in me.
  PROSPERO. Shake it off. Come on,
    We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
    Yields us kind answer.
  MIRANDA. 'Tis a villain, sir,
    I do not love to look on.
  PROSPERO. But as 'tis,
    We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
    Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices
    That profit us. What ho! slave! Caliban!
    Thou earth, thou! Speak.
  CALIBAN.   [ Within]  There's wood enough within.
  PROSPERO. Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee.
    Come, thou tortoise! when?

             Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph

    Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
    Hark in thine ear.
  ARIEL. My lord, it shall be done.                         Exit
  PROSPERO. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself
    Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

                       Enter CALIBAN

  CALIBAN. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd
    With raven's feather from unwholesome fen
    Drop on you both! A south-west blow on ye
    And blister you all o'er!
  PROSPERO. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
    Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
    Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
    All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd
    As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging
    Than bees that made 'em.
  CALIBAN. 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'st me and made much of me, wouldst give me
    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' th' isle,
    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,
    Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me
    In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
    The rest o' th' island.
  PROSPERO. Thou most lying slave,
    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.
  CALIBAN. O ho, O ho! Would't had been done.
    Thou didst prevent me; I had peopl'd else
    This isle with Calibans.
  MIRANDA. Abhorred slave,
    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,
    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
    Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
    Deservedly confin'd into this rock, who hadst
    Deserv'd more than a prison.
  CALIBAN. You taught me language, and my profit on't
    Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you
    For learning me your language!
  PROSPERO. Hag-seed, hence!
    Fetch us in fuel. And be quick, thou 'rt best,
    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,
    That beasts shall tremble at thy din.
  CALIBAN. No, pray thee.
    [Aside]  I must obey. His art is of such pow'r,
    It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
    And make a vassal of him.
  PROSPERO. So, slave; hence!                       Exit CALIBAN

         Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing ad 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,
            Foot it featly here and there,
            And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
              Hark, hark!
            [Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.]
              The watch dogs bark.
            [Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.]
              Hark, hark! I hear
            The strain of strutting chanticleer
              Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.
  FERDINAND. Where should this music be? I' th' air or th'
    earth?
    It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon
    Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,
    Weeping again the King my father's wreck,
    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.
    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.]
         Hark! now I hear them-Ding-dong bell.

  FERDINAND. The ditty does remember my drown'd father.
    This is no mortal business, nor no sound
    That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.
  PROSPERO. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
    And say what thou seest yond.
  MIRANDA. What is't? a spirit?
    Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
    It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.
  PROSPERO. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses
    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,
    And strays about to find 'em.
  MIRANDA. I might call him
    A thing divine; for nothing natural
    I ever saw so noble.
  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  It goes on, I see,
    As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee
    Within two days for this.
  FERDINAND. Most sure, the goddess
    On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my pray'r
    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,
    Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
    If you be maid or no?
  MIRANDA. No wonder, sir;
    But certainly a maid.
  FERDINAND. My language? Heavens!
    I am the best of them that speak this speech,
    Were I but where 'tis spoken.
  PROSPERO. How? the best?
    What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?
  FERDINAND. 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,
    Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld
    The King my father wreck'd.
  MIRANDA. Alack, for mercy!
  FERDINAND. Yes, faith, and all his lords, the Duke of Milan
    And his brave son being twain.
  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  The Duke of Milan
    And his more braver daughter could control thee,
    If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight
    They have chang'd eyes. Delicate Ariel,
    I'll set thee free for this.  [To FERDINAND]  A word, good
    sir;
    I fear you have done yourself some wrong; a word.
  MIRANDA. Why speaks my father so ungently? This
    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!
  FERDINAND. O, if a virgin,
    And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
    The Queen of Naples.
  PROSPERO. Soft, Sir! one word more.
    [Aside]  They are both in either's pow'rs; but this swift
    busines
    I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
    Make the prize light.  [To FERDINAND]  One word more; I
    charge thee
    That thou attend me; thou dost here usurp
    The name thou ow'st not; and hast put thyself
    Upon this island as a spy, to win it
    From me, the lord on't.
  FERDINAND. No, as I am a man.
  MIRANDA. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.
    If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
    Good things will strive to dwell with't.
  PROSPERO. Follow me.
    Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come;
    I'll manacle thy neck and feet together.
    Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
    The fresh-brook mussels, wither'd roots, and husks
    Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.
  FERDINAND. No;
    I will resist such entertainment till
    Mine enemy has more power.
                          [He draws, and is charmed from moving]
  MIRANDA. O dear father,
    Make not too rash a trial of him, for
    He's gentle, and not fearful.
  PROSPERO. What, I say,
    My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
    Who mak'st a show but dar'st not strike, thy conscience
    Is so possess'd with guilt. Come from thy ward;
    For I can here disarm thee with this stick
    And make thy weapon drop.
  MIRANDA. Beseech you, father!
  PROSPERO. Hence! Hang not on my garments.
  MIRANDA. Sir, have pity;
    I'll be his surety.
  PROSPERO. 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,
    Having seen but him and Caliban. Foolish wench!
    To th' most of men this is a Caliban,
    And they to him are angels.
  MIRANDA. My affections
    Are then most humble; I have no ambition
    To see a goodlier man.
  PROSPERO. Come on; obey.
    Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
    And have no vigour in them.
  FERDINAND. So they are;
    My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
    My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
    The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats
    To whom I am subdu'd, are but light to me,
    Might I but through my prison once a day
    Behold this maid. All corners else o' th' earth
    Let liberty make use of; space enough
    Have I in such a prison.
  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  It works.  [To FERDINAND]  Come on.-
    Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!  [To FERDINAND]  Follow
    me.
    [To ARIEL]  Hark what thou else shalt do me.
  MIRANDA. Be of comfort;
    My father's of a better nature, sir,
    Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted
    Which now came from him.
  PROSPERO.  [To ARIEL]  Thou shalt be as free
    As mountain winds; but then exactly do
    All points of my command.
  ARIEL. To th' syllable.
  PROSPERO.  [To FERDINAND]  Come, follow.  [To MIRANDA]
    Speak not for him.                                    Exeunt
                           ACT II. SCENE 1

                     Another part of the island
         Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN,
                      FRANCISCO, and OTHERS

  GONZALO. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,
    So have we all, of joy; for our escape
    Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe
    Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
    The 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.
  ALONSO. Prithee, peace.
  SEBASTIAN. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
  ANTONIO. The visitor will not give him o'er so.
  SEBASTIAN. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by
    and by it will strike.
  GONZALO. Sir-
  SEBASTIAN. One-Tell.
  GONZALO. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd,
    Comes to th' entertainer-
  SEBASTIAN. A dollar.
  GONZALO. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken
    truer than you purpos'd.
  SEBASTIAN. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you
    should.
  GONZALO. Therefore, my lord-
  ANTONIO. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
  ALONSO. I prithee, spare.
  GONZALO. Well, I have done; but yet-
  SEBASTIAN. He will be talking.
  ANTONIO. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first
    begins to crow?
  SEBASTIAN. The old cock.
  ANTONIO. The cock'rel.
  SEBASTIAN. Done. The wager?
  ANTONIO. A laughter.
  SEBASTIAN. A match!
  ADRIAN. Though this island seem to be desert-
  ANTONIO. Ha, ha, ha!
  SEBASTIAN. So, you're paid.
  ADRIAN. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible-
  SEBASTIAN. Yet-
  ADRIAN. Yet-
  ANTONIO. He could not miss't.
  ADRIAN. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate
    temperance.
  ANTONIO. Temperance was a delicate wench.
  SEBASTIAN. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly
    deliver'd.
  ADRIAN. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
  SEBASTIAN. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
  ANTONIO. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a fen.
  GONZALO. Here is everything advantageous to life.
  ANTONIO. True; save means to live.
  SEBASTIAN. Of that there's none, or little.
  GONZALO. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!
  ANTONIO. The ground indeed is tawny.
  SEBASTIAN. With an eye of green in't.
  ANTONIO. He misses not much.
  SEBASTIAN. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.
  GONZALO. But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost
    beyond credit-
  SEBASTIAN. As many vouch'd rarities are.
  GONZALO. That our garments, being, as they were, drench'd
    in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and
    glosses, being rather new-dy'd, than stain'd with salt
    water.
  ANTONIO. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it
    not say he lies?
  SEBASTIAN. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.
  GONZALO. 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.
  SEBASTIAN. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in
    our return.
  ADRIAN. Tunis was never grac'd before with such a paragon
    to their queen.
  GONZALO. Not since widow Dido's time.
  ANTONIO. Widow! a pox o' that! How came that 'widow'
    in? Widow Dido!
  SEBASTIAN. What if he had said 'widower Aeneas' too?
    Good Lord, how you take it!
  ADRIAN. 'Widow Dido' said you? You make me study of
    that. She was of Carthage, not of Tunis.
  GONZALO. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.
  ADRIAN. Carthage?
  GONZALO. I assure you, Carthage.
  ANTONIO. His word is more than the miraculous harp.
  SEBASTIAN. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.
  ANTONIO. What impossible matter will he make easy next?
  SEBASTIAN. I think he will carry this island home in his
    pocket, and give it his son for an apple.
  ANTONIO. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring
    forth more islands.
  GONZALO. Ay.
  ANTONIO. Why, in good time.
  GONZALO. 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.
  ANTONIO. And the rarest that e'er came there.
  SEBASTIAN. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
  ANTONIO. O, widow Dido! Ay, widow Dido.
  GONZALO. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I
    wore it? I mean, in a sort.
  ANTONIO. That 'sort' was well fish'd for.
  GONZALO. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?
  ALONSO. You cram these words into mine ears against
    The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
    Married my daughter there; for, coming thence,
    My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
    Who is so far from Italy removed
    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?
  FRANCISCO. 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 oared
    Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
    To th' shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed,
    As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt
    He came alive to land.
  ALONSO. No, no, he's gone.
  SEBASTIAN. 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,
    Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.
  ALONSO. Prithee, peace.
  SEBASTIAN. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise
    By all of us; and the fair soul herself
    Weigh'd between loathness and obedience at
    Which end o' th' beam should bow. We have lost your son,
    I fear, for ever. Milan and Naples have
    Moe widows in them of this business' making,
    Than we bring men to comfort them;
    The fault's your own.
  ALONSO. So is the dear'st o' th' loss.
  GONZALO. My lord Sebastian,
    The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
    And time to speak it in; you rub the sore,
    When you should bring the plaster.
  SEBASTIAN. Very well.
  ANTONIO. And most chirurgeonly.
  GONZALO. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
    When you are cloudy.
  SEBASTIAN. Foul weather?
  ANTONIO. Very foul.
  GONZALO. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord-
  ANTONIO. He'd sow 't with nettle-seed.
  SEBASTIAN. Or docks, or mallows.
  GONZALO. And were the king on't, what would I do?
  SEBASTIAN. Scape being drunk for want of wine.
  GONZALO. I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries
    Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
    Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
    Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
    And use of service, none; contract, succession,
    Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
    No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;
    No occupation; all men idle, all;
    And women too, but innocent and pure;
    No sovereignty-
  SEBASTIAN. Yet he would be king on't.
  ANTONIO. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the
    beginning.
  GONZALO. All things in common nature should produce
    Without sweat or endeavour. Treason, felony,
    Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
    Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
    Of it own kind, all foison, all abundance,
    To feed my innocent people.
  SEBASTIAN. No marrying 'mong his subjects?
  ANTONIO. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.
  GONZALO. I would with such perfection govern, sir,
    T' excel the golden age.
  SEBASTIAN. Save his Majesty!
  ANTONIO. Long live Gonzalo!
  GONZALO. And-do you mark me, sir?
  ALONSO. Prithee, no more; thou dost talk nothing to me.
  GONZALO. 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.
  ANTONIO. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.
  GONZALO. Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to
    you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.
  ANTONIO. What a blow was there given!
  SEBASTIAN. An it had not fall'n flat-long.
  GONZALO. 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

  SEBASTIAN. We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling.
  ANTONIO. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.
  GONZALO. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my
    discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am
    very heavy?
  ANTONIO. Go sleep, and hear us.
                   [All sleep but ALONSO, SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO]
  ALONSO. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
    Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts; I find
    They are inclin'd to do so.
  SEBASTIAN. Please you, sir,
    Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
    It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
    It is a comforter.
  ANTONIO. We two, my lord,
    Will guard your person while you take your rest,
    And watch your safety.
  ALONSO. Thank you-wondrous heavy!
                                     [ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL]
  SEBASTIAN. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
  ANTONIO. It is the quality o' th' climate.
  SEBASTIAN. Why
    Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
    Myself dispos'd to sleep.
  ANTONIO. Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
    They fell together all, as by consent;
    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; th' occasion speaks thee; and
    My strong imagination sees a crown
    Dropping upon thy head.
  SEBASTIAN. What, art thou waking?
  ANTONIO. Do you not hear me speak?
  SEBASTIAN. 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
    With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
    And yet so fast asleep.
  ANTONIO. Noble Sebastian,
    Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st
    Whiles thou art waking.
  SEBASTIAN. Thou dost snore distinctly;
    There's meaning in thy snores.
  ANTONIO. I am more serious than my custom; you
    Must be so too, if heed me; which to do
    Trebles thee o'er.
  SEBASTIAN. Well, I am standing water.
  ANTONIO. I'll teach you how to flow.
  SEBASTIAN. Do so: to ebb,
    Hereditary sloth instructs me.
  ANTONIO. O,
    If you but knew how you the purpose cherish,
    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.
  SEBASTIAN. Prithee say on.
    The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim
    A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
    Which throes thee much to yield.
  ANTONIO. Thus, sir:
    Although this lord of weak remembrance, this
    Who shall be of as little memory
    When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuaded-
    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.
  SEBASTIAN. I have no hope
    That he's undrown'd.
  ANTONIO. O, out of that 'no hope'
    What great hope have you! No hope that way is
    Another way so high a hope, that even
    Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
    But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me
    That Ferdinand is drown'd?
  SEBASTIAN. He's gone.
  ANTONIO. Then tell me,
    Who's the next heir of Naples?
  SEBASTIAN. Claribel.
  ANTONIO. 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' th' Moon's too slow, till newborn chins
    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
    In yours and my discharge.
  SEBASTIAN. 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.
  ANTONIO. A space whose ev'ry 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?
  SEBASTIAN. Methinks I do.
  ANTONIO. And how does your content
    Tender your own good fortune?
  SEBASTIAN. I remember
    You did supplant your brother Prospero.
  ANTONIO. True.
    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.
  SEBASTIAN. But, for your conscience-
  ANTONIO. Ay, sir; where lies that? If 'twere a kibe,
    '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-that's dead;
    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.
  SEBASTIAN. Thy case, dear friend,
    Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan,
    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.
  ANTONIO. Draw together;
    And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
    To fall it on Gonzalo.
  SEBASTIAN. O, but one word.                  [They talk apart]

          Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, with music and song

  ARIEL. My master through his art foresees the danger
    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!

  ANTONIO. Then let us both be sudden.
  GONZALO. Now, good angels
    Preserve the King!                               [They wake]
  ALONSO. Why, how now?-Ho, awake!-Why are you drawn?
    Wherefore this ghastly looking?
  GONZALO. What's the matter?
  SEBASTIAN. 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.
  ALONSO. I heard nothing.
  ANTONIO. 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.
  ALONSO. Heard you this, Gonzalo?
  GONZALO. 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,
    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.
  ALONSO. Lead off this ground; and let's make further
    search
    For my poor son.
  GONZALO. Heavens keep him from these beasts!
    For he is, sure, i' th' island.
  ALONSO. Lead away.
  ARIEL. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done;
    So, King, go safely on to seek thy son.               Exeunt


                           SCENE 2

                 Another part of the island
        Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of
                        thunder heard

  CALIBAN. 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' th' 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;
    Sometime like apes that mow 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
    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
    For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat;
    Perchance he will not mind me.
  TRINCULO. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any
    weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it
    sing i' th' wind. Yond same black cloud, yond huge one,
    looks like a foul bombard 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; 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
    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
    thunderbolt.  [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 bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs
    of the storm be past.

            Enter STEPHANO singing; a bottle in his hand

  STEPHANO. 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]

    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'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]
  CALIBAN. Do not torment me. O!
  STEPHANO. 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 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.
  CALIBAN. The spirit torments me. O!
  STEPHANO. 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.
  CALIBAN. Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood
    home faster.
  STEPHANO. 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.
  CALIBAN. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon,
    I know it by thy trembling; now Prosper works upon thee.
  STEPHANO. 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.
  TRINCULO. I should know that voice; it should be-but he is
    drown'd; and these are devils. O, defend me!
  STEPHANO. 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.
  TRINCULO. Stephano!
  STEPHANO. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy!
    This is a devil, and no monster; I will leave him; I
    have no long spoon.
  TRINCULO. Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me, and
    speak to me; for I am Trinculo-be not afeard-thy good
    friend Trinculo.
  STEPHANO. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth; I'll pull
    the 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?
  TRINCULO. I took him to be kill'd with a thunderstroke.
    But art thou not drown'd, Stephano? I hope now thou are
    not drown'd. Is the storm overblown? 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!
  STEPHANO. Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not
    constant.
  CALIBAN.  [Aside]  These be fine things, an if they be not
    sprites.
    That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor.
    I will kneel to him.
  STEPHANO. 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.
  CALIBAN. I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true
    subject, for the liquor is not earthly.
  STEPHANO. Here; swear then how thou escap'dst.
  TRINCULO. Swum ashore, man, like a duck; I can swim like
    a duck, I'll be sworn.
  STEPHANO.  [Passing the bottle]  Here, kiss the book. Though
    thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a
    goose.
  TRINCULO. O Stephano, hast any more of this?
  STEPHANO. The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a rock by
    th' seaside, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf!
    How does thine ague?
  CALIBAN. Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven?
  STEPHANO. Out o' th' moon, I do assure thee; I was the Man
    i' th' Moon, when time was.
  CALIBAN. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee. My
    mistress show'd me thee, and thy dog and thy bush.
  STEPHANO. Come, swear to that; kiss the book. I will
    furnish it anon with new contents. Swear.
                                                [CALIBAN drinks]
  TRINCULO. By this good light, this is a very shallow
    monster!
    I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The Man i' th'
    Moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well drawn,
    monster, in good sooth!
  CALIBAN. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island;
    and will kiss thy foot. I prithee be my god.
  TRINCULO. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken
    monster! When's god's asleep he'll rob his bottle.
  CALIBAN. I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy
    subject.
  STEPHANO. Come on, then; down, and swear.
  TRINCULO. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-
    headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in
    my heart to beat him-
  STEPHANO. Come, kiss.
  TRINCULO. But that the poor monster's in drink. An
    abominable monster!
  CALIBAN. I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee
    berries;
    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.
  TRINCULO. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of
    a poor drunkard!
  CALIBAN. 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
    To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee
    To clust'ring filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee
    Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?
  STEPHANO. 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.
  CALIBAN.  [Sings drunkenly]  Farewell, master; farewell,
    farewell!
  TRINCULO. A howling monster; a drunken monster!
  CALIBAN. No more dams I'll make for fish;
    Nor fetch in firing
    At requiring,
    Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish.
    'Ban 'Ban, Ca-Caliban,
    Has a new master-Get a new man.
    Freedom, high-day! high-day, freedom! freedom, high-
    day, freedom!
  STEPHANO. O brave monster! Lead the way.                Exeunt


                      ACT III. SCENE 1

                   Before PROSPERO'S cell
               Enter FERDINAND, hearing a log

  FERDINAND. 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
    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;
    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 baseness
    Had never like executor. 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

  MIRANDA. 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.
  FERDINAND. O most dear mistress,
    The sun will set before I shall discharge
    What I must strive to do.
  MIRANDA. If you'll sit down,
    I'll bear your logs the while; pray give me that;
    I'll carry it to the pile.
  FERDINAND. No, precious creature;
    I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
    Than you should such dishonour undergo,
    While I sit lazy by.
  MIRANDA. 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.
  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  Poor worm, thou art infected!
    This visitation shows it.
  MIRANDA. You look wearily.
  FERDINAND. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me
    When you are by at night. I do beseech you,
    Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers,
    What is your name?
  MIRANDA. Miranda-O my father,
    I have broke your hest to say so!
  FERDINAND. Admir'd Miranda!
    What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
    I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time
    Th' 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!
  MIRANDA. I do not know
    One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
    Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen
    More that I may call men than you, good friend,
    And my dear father. How features are abroad,
    I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,
    The jewel in my dower, I would not wish
    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
    I therein do forget.
  FERDINAND. I am, in my condition,
    A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king-
    I would not so!-and would no more endure
    This wooden 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
    To make me slave to it; and for your sake
    Am I this patient log-man.
  MIRANDA. Do you love me?
  FERDINAND. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound,
    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' th' world,
    Do love, prize, honour you.
  MIRANDA. I am a fool
    To weep at what I am glad of.
  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  Fair encounter
    Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace
    On that which breeds between 'em!
  FERDINAND. Wherefore weep you?
  MIRANDA. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer
    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!
    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,
    Whether you will or no.
  FERDINAND. My mistress, dearest;
    And I thus humble ever.
  MIRANDA. My husband, then?
  FERDINAND. Ay, with a heart as willing
    As bondage e'er of freedom. Here's my hand.
  MIRANDA. And mine, with my heart in't. And now farewell
    Till half an hour hence.
  FERDINAND. A thousand thousand!
                          Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA severally
  PROSPERO. 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;
    For yet ere supper time must I perform
    Much business appertaining.                             Exit


                            SCENE 2

                  Another part of the island
            Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO

  STEPHANO. Tell not me-when the butt is out we will drink
    water, not a drop before; therefore bear up, and board
    'em. Servant-monster, drink to me.
  TRINCULO. Servant-monster! The folly of this island! They
    say there's but five upon this isle: we are three of
    them; if th' other two be brain'd like us, the state
    totters.
  STEPHANO. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee; thy
    eyes are almost set in thy head.
  TRINCULO. Where should they be set else? He were a brave
    monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.
  STEPHANO. 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.
  TRINCULO. Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard.
  STEPHANO. We'll not run, Monsieur Monster.
  TRINCULO. Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs, and
    yet say nothing neither.
  STEPHANO. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest
    a good moon-calf.
  CALIBAN. How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe.
    I'll not serve him; he is not valiant.
  TRINCULO. Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case
    to justle a constable. Why, thou debosh'd 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 fish and half a monster?
  CALIBAN. Lo, how he mocks me! Wilt thou let him, my
    lord?
  TRINCULO. 'Lord' quoth he! That a monster should be such
    a natural!
  CALIBAN. Lo, lo again! Bite him to death, I prithee.
  STEPHANO. 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.
  CALIBAN. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd to
    hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?
  STEPHANO. Marry will I; kneel and repeat it; I will stand,
    and so shall Trinculo.

                     Enter ARIEL, invisible

  CALIBAN. As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant,
    sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the
    island.
  ARIEL. Thou liest.
  CALIBAN. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou;
    I would my valiant master would destroy thee.
    I do not lie.
  STEPHANO. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale,
    by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.
  TRINCULO. Why, I said nothing.
  STEPHANO. Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.
  CALIBAN. 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-
  STEPHANO. That's most certain.
  CALIBAN. Thou shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee.
  STEPHANO. How now shall this be compass'd? Canst thou
    bring me to the party?
  CALIBAN. Yea, yea, my lord; I'll yield him thee asleep,
    Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.
  ARIEL. Thou liest; thou canst not.
  CALIBAN. What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch!
    I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows,
    And take his bottle from him. When that's gone
    He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him
    Where the quick freshes are.
  STEPHANO. 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 of thee.
  TRINCULO. Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther
    off.
  STEPHANO. Didst thou not say he lied?
  ARIEL. Thou liest.
  STEPHANO. Do I so? Take thou that.  [Beats him]  As you like
    this, give me the lie another time.
  TRINCULO. 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 on your monster, and the devil
    take your fingers!
  CALIBAN. Ha, ha, ha!
  STEPHANO. Now, forward with your tale.-Prithee stand
    further off.
  CALIBAN. Beat him enough; after a little time, I'll beat
    him too.
  STEPHANO. Stand farther. Come, proceed.
  CALIBAN. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him
    I' th' afternoon to sleep; there thou mayst brain him,
    Having first seiz'd his books; or with a log
    Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
    Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember
    First to possess his books; for without them
    He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
    One spirit to command; they all do hate him
    As rootedly as I. Burn but his books.
    He has brave utensils-for so he calls them-
    Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal.
    And that most deeply to consider is
    The beauty of his daughter; he himself
    Calls her a nonpareil. I never saw a woman
    But only Sycorax my dam and she;
    But she as far surpasseth Sycorax
    As great'st does least.
  STEPHANO. Is it so brave a lass?
  CALIBAN. Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant,
    And bring thee forth brave brood.
  STEPHANO. 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?
  TRINCULO. Excellent.
  STEPHANO. Give me thy hand; I am sorry I beat thee; but
    while thou liv'st, keep a good tongue in thy head.
  CALIBAN. Within this half hour will he be asleep.
    Wilt thou destroy him then?
  STEPHANO. Ay, on mine honour.
  ARIEL. This will I tell my master.
  CALIBAN. Thou mak'st me merry; I am full of pleasure.
    Let us be jocund; will you troll the catch
    You taught me but while-ere?
  STEPHANO. 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.

  CALIBAN. That's not the tune.
                      [ARIEL plays the tune on a tabor and pipe]
  STEPHANO. What is this same?
  TRINCULO. This is the tune of our catch, play'd by the
    picture of Nobody.
  STEPHANO. If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy
    likeness; if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list.
  TRINCULO. O, forgive me my sins!
  STEPHANO. He that dies pays all debts. I defy thee. Mercy
    upon us!
  CALIBAN. Art thou afeard?
  STEPHANO. No, monster, not I.
  CALIBAN. Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,
    Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.
    Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
    Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices,
    That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep,
    Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming,
    The clouds methought would open and show riches
    Ready to drop upon me, that, when I wak'd,
    I cried to dream again.
  STEPHANO. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I
    shall have my music for nothing.
  CALIBAN. When Prospero is destroy'd.
  STEPHANO. That shall be by and by; I remember the story.
  TRINCULO. The sound is going away; let's follow it, and
    after do our work.
  STEPHANO. Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see
    this taborer; he lays it on.
  TRINCULO. Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano.             Exeunt


                              SCENE 3

                    Another part of the island
        Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN
                       FRANCISCO, and OTHERS

  GONZALO. By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir;
    My old bones ache. Here's a maze trod, indeed,
    Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience,
    I needs must rest me.
  ALONSO. Old lord, I cannot blame thee,
    Who am myself attach'd with weariness
    To th' dulling of my spirits; sit down and rest.
    Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it
    No longer for my flatterer; he is drown'd
    Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks
    Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.
  ANTONIO.  [Aside to SEBASTIAN]  I am right glad that he's
    so out of hope.
    Do not, for one repulse, forgo the purpose
    That you resolv'd t' effect.
  SEBASTIAN.  [Aside to ANTONIO]  The next advantage
    Will we take throughly.
  ANTONIO.  [Aside to SEBASTIAN]  Let it be to-night;
    For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they
    Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance
    As when they are fresh.
  SEBASTIAN.  [Aside to ANTONIO]  I say, to-night; no more.

           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 salutations; and inviting the
           KING, etc., to eat, they depart

  ALONSO. What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!
  GONZALO. Marvellous sweet music!
  ALONSO. Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?
  SEBASTIAN. A living drollery. Now I will believe
    That there are unicorns; that in Arabia
    There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix
    At this hour reigning-there.
  ANTONIO. 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.
  GONZALO. 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,
    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.
  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  Honest lord,
    Thou hast said well; for some of you there present
    Are worse than devils.
  ALONSO. I cannot too much muse
    Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing,
    Although they want the use of tongue, a kind
    Of excellent dumb discourse.
  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  Praise in departing.
  FRANCISCO. They vanish'd strangely.
  SEBASTIAN. No matter, since
    They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.
    Will't please you taste of what is here?
  ALONSO. Not I.
  GONZALO. Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,
    Who would believe that there were mountaineers,
    Dewlapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em
    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 will bring us
    Good warrant of.
  ALONSO. I will stand to, and feed,
    Although my last; no matter, since I feel
    The best is past. Brother, my lord the Duke,
    Stand to, and do as we.

       Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy;
       claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint
                device, the banquet vanishes

  ARIEL. You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,
    That hath to instrument this lower world
    And what is in't, the never-surfeited sea
    Hath caus'd to belch up you; and on this island
    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.
                     [ALONSO, SEBASTIAN etc., draw their swords]
    You fools! I and my fellows
    Are ministers of Fate; the elements
    Of whom your swords are temper'd may as well
    Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs
    Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish
    One dowle that's in my plume; my fellow-ministers
    Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,
    Your swords are now too massy for your strengths
    And will not be uplifted. But remember-
    For that's my business to you-that you three
    From Milan did supplant good Prospero;
    Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it,
    Him, and his innocent child; for which foul deed
    The pow'rs, delaying, not forgetting, have
    Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,
    Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,
    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-
    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

  PROSPERO. Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou
    Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring.
    Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated
    In what thou hadst to say; so, with good life
    And observation strange, my meaner ministers
    Their several kinds have done. My high charms work,
    And these mine enemies are all knit up
    In their distractions. They now are in my pow'r;
    And in these fits I leave them, while I visit
    Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown'd,
    And his and mine lov'd darling.                   Exit above
  GONZALO. I' th' name of something holy, sir, why stand you
    In this strange stare?
  ALONSO. 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
    The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass.
    Therefore my son i' th' ooze is bedded; and
    I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded,
    And with him there lie mudded.                          Exit
  SEBASTIAN. But one fiend at a time,
    I'll fight their legions o'er.
  ANTONIO. I'll be thy second.      Exeunt SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO
  GONZALO. All three of them are desperate; their great guilt,
    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
    May now provoke them to.
  ADRIAN. Follow, I pray you.                             Exeunt

                          ACT IV. SCENE 1

                      Before PROSPERO'S cell
              Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA

  PROSPERO. If I have too austerely punish'd you,
    Your compensation makes amends; for
    Have given you here a third of mine own life,
    Or that for which I live; who once again
    I tender to thy hand. All thy vexations
    Were but my trials of thy love, and thou
    Hast strangely stood the test; here, afore heaven,
    I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand!
    Do not smile at me that I boast her off,
    For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise,
    And make it halt behind her.
  FERDINAND. I do believe it
    Against an oracle.
  PROSPERO. Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition
    Wort'hily purchas'd, take my daughter. But
    If thou dost break her virgin-knot before
    All sanctimonious ceremonies may
    With full and holy rite be minist'red,
    No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall
    To make this contract grow; but barren hate,
    Sour-ey'd 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.
  FERDINAND. 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
    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 Phoebus' steeds are founder'd
    Or Night kept chain'd below.
  PROSPERO. Fairly spoke.
    Sit, then, and talk with her; she is thine own.
    What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!

                           Enter ARIEL

  ARIEL. What would my potent master? Here I am.
  PROSPERO. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service
    Did worthily perform; and I must use you
    In such another trick. Go bring the rabble,
    O'er whom I give thee pow'r, 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,
    And they expect it from me.
  ARIEL. Presently?
  PROSPERO. Ay, with a twink.
  ARIEL. 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 and mow.
    Do you love me, master? No?
  PROSPERO. Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach
    Till thou dost hear me call.
  ARIEL. Well! I conceive.                                  Exit
  PROSPERO. Look thou be true; do not give dalliance
    Too much the rein; the strongest oaths are straw
    To th' fire i' th' blood. Be more abstemious,
    Or else good night your vow!
  FERDINAND. I warrant you, sir,
    The white cold virgin snow upon my heart
    Abates the ardour of my liver.
  PROSPERO. Well!
    Now come, my Ariel, bring a corollary,
    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;
    Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
    And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep;
    Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims,
    Which spongy April at thy hest betrims,
    To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves,
    Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,
    Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard;
    And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky hard,
    Where thou thyself dost air-the Queen o' th' sky,
    Whose wat'ry arch and messenger am I,
    Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace,
    Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,
    To come and sport. Her peacocks fly amain.
                                      [JUNO descends in her car]
    Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.

                        Enter CERES

  CERES. Hail, many-coloured messenger, that ne'er
    Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;
    Who, with thy saffron wings, upon my flow'rs
    Diffusest honey drops, refreshing show'rs;
    And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown
    My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down,
    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
    On the blest lovers.
  CERES. Tell me, heavenly bow,
    If Venus or her son, as thou dost know,
    Do now attend the Queen? Since they did plot
    The means that dusky Dis my daughter got,
    Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company
    I have forsworn.
  IRIS. Of her society
    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,
    Whose vows are that no bed-rite shall be paid
    Till Hymen's torch be lighted; but in vain.
    Mars's hot minion is return'd again;
    Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,
    Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows,
    And be a boy right out.                       [JUNO alights]
  CERES. Highest Queen of State,
    Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait.
  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.
  CERES. Earth's increase, foison plenty,
    Barns and gamers never empty;
    Vines with clust'ring 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.
  FERDINAND. This is a most majestic vision, and
    Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold
    To think these spirits?
  PROSPERO. Spirits, which by mine art
    I have from their confines call'd to enact
    My present fancies.
  FERDINAND. Let me live here ever;
    So rare a wond'red father and a wise
    Makes this place Paradise.
           [JUNO and CERES whisper, and send IRIS on employment]
  PROSPERO. Sweet now, silence;
    Juno and Ceres whisper seriously.
    There's something else to do; hush, and be mute,
    Or else our spell is marr'd.
  IRIS. You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the wind'ring brooks,
    With your sedg'd crowns and ever harmless looks,
    Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land
    Answer your summons; Juno does command.
    Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
    A contract of true love; be not too late.

                      Enter certain NYMPHS

    You sun-burnt sicklemen, of August weary,
    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.

        Enter certain REAPERS, properly habited; they join
         with the NYMPHS in a graceful dance; towards the
         end whereof PROSPERO starts suddenly, and speaks,
          after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused
                  noise, they heavily vanish

  PROSPERO.  [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!
  FERDINAND. This is strange; your father's in some passion
    That works him strongly.
  MIRANDA. Never till this day
    Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd.
  PROSPERO. 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
    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,
    Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
    And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
    Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
    As dreams are made on; and our little life
    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
    And there repose; a turn or two I'll walk
    To still my beating mind.
  FERDINAND, MIRANDA. We wish your peace.                 Exeunt
  PROSPERO. Come, with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel; come.

                       Enter ARIEL

  ARIEL. Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure?
  PROSPERO. Spirit,
    We must prepare to meet with Caliban.
  ARIEL. Ay, my commander. When I presented 'Ceres.'
    I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear'd
    Lest I might anger thee.
  PROSPERO. Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?
  ARIEL. I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;
    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,
    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 cars,
    That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through
    Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns,
    Which ent'red their frail shins. At last I left them
    I' th' filthy mantled pool beyond your cell,
    There dancing up to th' chins, that the foul lake
    O'erstunk their feet.
  PROSPERO. This was well done, my bird.
    Thy shape invisible retain thou still.
    The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither
    For stale to catch these thieves.
  ARIEL. I go, I go.                                        Exit
  PROSPERO. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature
    Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,
    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.

       Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c.

    Come, hang them on this line.
                          [PROSPERO and ARIEL remain, invisible]

         Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet

  CALIBAN. Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not
    Hear a foot fall; we now are near his cell.
  STEPHANO. Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless
    fairy, has done little better than play'd the Jack with us.
  TRINCULO. Monster, I do smell all horse-piss at which my
    nose is in great indignation.
  STEPHANO. So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should
    take a displeasure against you, look you-
  TRINCULO. Thou wert but a lost monster.
  CALIBAN. Good my lord, give me thy favour still.
    Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to
    Shall hoodwink this mischance; therefore speak softly.
    All's hush'd as midnight yet.
  TRINCULO. Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool!
  STEPHANO. There is not only disgrace and dishonour in
    that, monster, but an infinite loss.
  TRINCULO. That's more to me than my wetting; yet this is
    your harmless fairy, monster.
  STEPHANO. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er
    ears for my labour.
  CALIBAN. Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here,
    This is the mouth o' th' 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.
  STEPHANO. Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody
    thoughts.
  TRINCULO. O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano!
    Look what a wardrobe here is for thee!
  CALIBAN. Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.
  TRINCULO. O, ho, monster; we know what belongs to a
    frippery. O King Stephano!
  STEPHANO. Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll
    have that gown.
  TRINCULO. Thy Grace shall have it.
  CALIBAN. The dropsy drown this fool! What do you mean
    To dote thus on such luggage? Let 't alone,
    And do the murder first. If he awake,
    From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches;
    Make us strange stuff.
  STEPHANO. Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not
    this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line; now,
    jerkin, you are like to lose your hair, and prove a bald
    jerkin.
  TRINCULO. Do, do. We steal by line and level, an't like
    your Grace.
  STEPHANO. 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; there's another garmet for't.
  TRINCULO. Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers,
    and away with the rest.
  CALIBAN. I will have none on't. We shall lose our time,
    And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes
    With foreheads villainous low.
  STEPHANO. 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.
  TRINCULO. And this.
  STEPHANO. Ay, and this.

          A noise of hunters beard. Enter divers SPIRITS, in
             shape of dogs and hounds, bunting them about;
                   PROSPERO and ARIEL setting them on

  PROSPERO. Hey, Mountain, hey!
  ARIEL. Silver! there it goes, Silver!
  PROSPERO. Fury, Fury! There, Tyrant, there! Hark, hark!
                [CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO are driven out]
    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.
  ARIEL. Hark, they roar.
  PROSPERO. Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour
    Lies at my mercy all mine enemies.
    Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
    Shalt have the air at freedom; for a little
    Follow, and do me service.                            Exeunt


                       ACT V. SCENE 1

                   Before PROSPERO'S cell
          Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL

  PROSPERO. Now does my project gather to a head;
    My charms crack not, my spirits obey; and time
    Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day?
  ARIEL. On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,
    You said our work should cease.
  PROSPERO. I did say so,
    When first I rais'd the tempest. Say, my spirit,
    How fares the King and 's followers?
  ARIEL. 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 your cell;
    They cannot budge till your release. The King,
    His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,
    And the remainder mourning over them,
    Brim full of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly
    Him 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
    Would become tender.
  PROSPERO. Dost thou think so, spirit?
  ARIEL. Mine would, sir, were I human.
  PROSPERO. And mine shall.
    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 as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art?
    Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th' 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,
    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.
  ARIEL. I'll fetch them, sir.                              Exit
  PROSPERO. 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
    When he comes back; you demi-puppets 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
    To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid-
    Weak masters though ye be-I have be-dimm'd
    The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
    And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault
    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
    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
    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,
    And deeper than did ever plummet sound
    I'll drown my book.                            [Solem music]

            Here enters ARIEL before; then ALONSO, with
          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 charm'd; which
                    PROSPERO observing, speaks

    A solemn air, and the best comforter
    To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains,
    Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There stand,
    For you are spell-stopp'd.
    Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,
    Mine eyes, ev'n sociable to the show of thine,
    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
    Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,
    My true preserver, and a loyal sir
    To him thou follow'st! I will pay thy graces
    Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly
    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,
    Expell'd remorse and nature, who, 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
    Begins to swell, and the approaching tide
    Will shortly fill the reasonable shore
    That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them
    That yet looks on me, or would know me. Ariel,
    Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell;           Exit ARIEL
    I will discase me, and myself present
    As I was sometime Milan. Quickly, spirit
    Thou shalt ere long be free.

        ARIEL, on returning, sings and helps to attire him

    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.

  PROSPERO. 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;
    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.
  ARIEL. I drink the air before me, and return
    Or ere your pulse twice beat.                           Exit
  GONZALO. All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement,
    Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us
    Out of this fearful country!
  PROSPERO. Behold, Sir King,
    The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero.
    For more assurance that a living prince
    Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;
    And to thee and thy company I bid
    A hearty welcome.
  ALONSO. Whe'er thou be'st he or no,
    Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,
    As late I have been, I not know. Thy pulse
    Beats, as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,
    Th' affliction of my mind amends, with which,
    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
    Be living and be here?
  PROSPERO. First, noble friend,
    Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot
    Be measur'd or confin'd.
  GONZALO. Whether this be
    Or be not, I'll not swear.
  PROSPERO. You do yet taste
    Some subtleties o' th' isle, that will not let you
    Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all!
    [Aside to SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO]  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
    I will tell no tales.
  SEBASTIAN.  [Aside]  The devil speaks in him.
  PROSPERO. No.
    For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother
    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.
  ALONSO. If thou beest 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-
    How sharp the point of this remembrance is!-
    My dear son Ferdinand.
  PROSPERO. I am woe for't, sir.
  ALONSO. Irreparable is the loss; and patience
    Says it is past her cure.
  PROSPERO. I rather think
    You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace
    For the like loss I have her sovereign aid,
    And rest myself content.
  ALONSO. You the like loss!
  PROSPERO. As great to me as late; and, supportable
    To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker
    Than you may call to comfort you, for I
    Have lost my daughter.
  ALONSO. A daughter!
    O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,
    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?
  PROSPERO. In this last tempest. I perceive these lords
    At this encounter do so much admire
    That they devour their reason, and scarce think
    Their eyes do offices of truth, their words
    Are natural breath; but, howsoe'er you have
    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 wrecked, was landed
    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;
    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;
    At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye
    As much as me my dukedom.

          Here PROSPERO discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA,
                      playing at chess

  MIRANDA. Sweet lord, you play me false.
  FERDINAND. No, my dearest love,
    I would not for the world.
  MIRANDA. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle
    And I would call it fair play.
  ALONSO. If this prove
    A vision of the island, one dear son
    Shall I twice lose.
  SEBASTIAN. A most high miracle!
  FERDINAND. Though the seas threaten, they are merciful;
    I have curs'd them without cause.                   [Kneels]
  ALONSO. Now all the blessings
    Of a glad father compass thee about!
    Arise, and say how thou cam'st here.
  MIRANDA. O, wonder!
    How many goodly creatures are there here!
    How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world
    That has such people in't!
  PROSPERO. 'Tis new to thee.
  ALONSO. 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,
    And brought us thus together?
  FERDINAND. Sir, she is mortal;
    But by immortal Providence she's mine.
    I chose her when I could not ask my father
    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
    Receiv'd a second life; and second father
    This lady makes him to me.
  ALONSO. I am hers.
    But, O, how oddly will it sound that I
    Must ask my child forgiveness!
  PROSPERO. There, sir, stop;
    Let us not burden our remembrances with
    A heaviness that's gone.
  GONZALO. 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
    Which brought us hither.
  ALONSO. I say, Amen, Gonzalo!
  GONZALO. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue
    Should become Kings of Naples? O, rejoice
    Beyond a common joy, and set it down
    With gold on lasting pillars: in one voyage
    Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis;
    And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife
    Where he himself was lost; Prospero his dukedom
    In a poor isle; and all of us ourselves
    When no man was his own.
  ALONSO.  [To FERDINAND and MIRANDA]  Give me your
    hands.
    Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart
    That doth not wish you joy.
  GONZALO. Be it so. Amen!

           Re-enter ARIEL, with the MASTER and BOATSWAIN
                     amazedly following

    O look, sir; look, sir! Here is more of us!
    I prophesied, 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?
  BOATSWAIN. The best news is that we have safely found
    Our King and company; the next, our ship-
    Which but three glasses since we gave out split-
    Is tight and yare, and bravely rigg'd, as when
    We first put out to sea.
  ARIEL.  [Aside to PROSPERO]  Sir, all this service
    Have I done since I went.
  PROSPERO.  [Aside to ARIEL]  My tricksy spirit!
  ALONSO. These are not natural events; they strengthen
    From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither?
  BOATSWAIN. If I did think, sir, I were well awake,
    I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,
    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,
    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 her. On a trice, so please you,
    Even in a dream, were we divided from them,
    And were brought moping hither.
  ARIEL.  [Aside to PROSPERO]  Was't well done?
  PROSPERO.  [Aside to ARIEL]  Bravely, my diligence. Thou
    shalt be free.
  ALONSO. 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.
  PROSPERO. Sir, my liege,
    Do not infest your mind with beating on
    The strangeness of this business; at pick'd leisure,
    Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you,
    Which to you shall seem probable, of every
    These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheerful
    And think of each thing well.  [Aside to ARIEL]  Come
    hither, spirit;
    Set Caliban and his companions free;
    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
  STEPHANO. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man
    take care for himself; for all is but fortune. Coragio,
    bully-monster, coragio!
  TRINCULO. If these be true spies which I wear in my head,
    here's a goodly sight.
  CALIBAN. O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed!
    How fine my master is! I am afraid
    He will chastise me.
  SEBASTIAN. Ha, ha!
    What things are these, my lord Antonio?
    Will money buy'em?
  ANTONIO. Very like; one of them
    Is a plain fish, and no doubt marketable.
  PROSPERO. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords,
    Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave-
    His mother was a witch, and one so strong
    That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,
    And deal in her command without her power.
    These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil-
    For he's a bastard one-had plotted with them
    To take my life. Two of these fellows you
    Must know and own; this thing of darkness I
    Acknowledge mine.
  CALIBAN. I shall be pinch'd to death.
  ALONSO. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?
  SEBASTIAN. He is drunk now; where had he wine?
  ALONSO. And Trinculo is reeling ripe; where should they
    Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em?
    How cam'st thou in this pickle?
  TRINCULO. 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.
  SEBASTIAN. Why, how now, Stephano!
  STEPHANO. O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a
    cramp.
  PROSPERO. You'd be king o' the isle, sirrah?
  STEPHANO. I should have been a sore one, then.
  ALONSO.  [Pointing to CALIBAN]  This is as strange a thing
    as e'er I look'd on.
  PROSPERO. He is as disproportioned 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.
  CALIBAN. 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!
  PROSPERO. Go to; away!
  ALONSO. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.
  SEBASTIAN. Or stole it, rather.
                          Exeunt CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO
  PROSPERO. Sir, I invite your Highness and your train
    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,
    And the particular accidents gone by
    Since I came to this isle. And in the morn
    I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
    Where I have hope to see the nuptial
    Of these our dear-belov'd solemnized,
    And thence retire me to my Milan, where
    Every third thought shall be my grave.
  ALONSO. I long
    To hear the story of your life, which must
    Take the ear strangely.
  PROSPERO. I'll deliver all;
    And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,
    And sail so expeditious that shall catch
    Your royal fleet far off.  [Aside to ARIEL]  My Ariel,
      chick,
    That is thy charge. Then to the elements
    Be free, and fare thou well!-Please you, draw near.
                                                          Exeunt


EPILOGUE
                             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,
          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;
          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,
          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,
          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.
                                    THE END