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The text of _The Tempest_ is from Volume I of the nine-volume 1863

Cambridge edition of Shakespeare. The Preface (e-text 23041) and the

other plays from this volume are each available as separate e-texts.



General Notes are in their original location at the end of the play.

Text-critical notes are grouped at the end of each Scene. All line

numbers are from the original text; line breaks in dialogue--including

prose passages--are unchanged. Brackets are also unchanged; to avoid

ambiguity, footnotes and linenotes are given without added brackets.

In the notes, numerals printed as subscripts are shown inline as

F1, F2, Q1....



Texts cited in the Notes are listed at the end of the e-text.]









  THE WORKS



  of



  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE





  Edited by



  WILLIAM GEORGE CLARK, M.A.

  Fellow and Tutor of Trinity College, and Public Orator

  in the University of Cambridge;



  and JOHN GLOVER, M.A.

  Librarian Of Trinity College, Cambridge.





  _VOLUME I._





  Cambridge and London:

  MACMILLAN AND CO.

  1863.









THE TEMPEST.









DRAMATIS PERSONÆ[1].





  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.

  ADRIAN, Lord

  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.

  IRIS, presented by[2] Spirits.

  CERES,     „             „

  JUNO,      „             „

  Nymphs,    „             „

  Reapers,   „             „



  Other Spirits attending on Prospero[3].



SCENE--_A ship at sea[4]: an uninhabited island._





  Footnotes:



  1: DRAMATIS PERSONÆ] NAMES OF THE ACTORS F1 at the end of the Play.

  2: _presented by_] Edd.

  3: _Other ... Prospero_] Theobald.

  4: A ship at sea:] At sea: Capell.]









THE TEMPEST.









ACT I.





SCENE I. _On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise of thunder

and lightning heard._



  _Enter _a Ship-Master_ and _a Boatswain_._



_Mast._ Boatswain!



_Boats._ Here, master: what cheer?



_Mast._ Good, speak to the mariners: fall to’t, yarely, or

we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.    [_Exit._



  _Enter _Mariners_._



_Boats._ Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!              5

yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master’s

whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough!



  _Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO,

  and others._



_Alon._ Good boatswain, have care. Where’s the master?

Play the men.



_Boats._ I pray now, keep below.                                    10



_Ant._ Where is the master, boatswain?



_Boats._ Do you not hear him? You mar our labour:

keep your cabins: you do assist the storm.



_Gon._ Nay, good, be patient.



_Boats._ When the sea is. Hence! What cares these                   15

roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble

us not.



_Gon._ Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.



_Boats._ None that I more love than myself. You are a

Counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence,           20

and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope

more; use your authority: if you cannot, give thanks you

have lived 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._                          25



_Gon._ 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 hanged, our case          30

is miserable.    [_Exeunt._



  _Re-enter Boatswain._



_Boats._ Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower!

Bring her to try with main-course. [_A cry within._] A

plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather

or our office.                                                      35



  _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?



_Seb._ A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,

incharitable dog!



_Boats._ Work you, then.                                            40



_Ant._ Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noise-maker.

We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.



_Gon._ I’ll warrant him for drowning; though the ship

were no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched

wench.                                                              45



_Boats._ 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!



_Boats._ What, must our mouths be cold?



_Gon._ The king and prince at prayers! let’s assist them,           50

For our case is as theirs.



_Seb._                   I’m out of patience.



_Ant._ We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:

This wide-chapp’d rascal,--would thou mightst lie drowning

The washing of ten tides!



_Gon._                  He’ll be hang’d yet,

Though every drop of water swear against it,                        55

And gape at widest 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!”]



_Ant._ Let’s all sink with the king.                                60



_Seb._ Let’s take leave of him. [_Exeunt Ant. and Seb._



_Gon._ 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 a

dry death.    [_Exeunt._                                            65





  Notes: I, 1.



  SC. I. On a ship at sea] Pope.

  Enter ... Boatswain] Collier MS. adds ‘shaking off wet.’

  3: _Good,_] Rowe. _Good:_ Ff. _Good._ Collier.

  7: _till thou burst thy wind_] _till thou burst, wind_ Johnson conj.

    _till thou burst thee, wind_ Steevens conj.

  8: Capell adds stage direction [Exeunt Mariners aloft.

  11: _boatswain_] Pope. _boson_ Ff.

  11-18: Verse. S. Walker conj.

  15: _cares_] _care_ Rowe. See note (I).

  31:  [Exeunt] Theobald. [Exit. Ff.

  33: _Bring her to try_] F4. _Bring her to Try_ F1 F2 F3.

    _Bring her to. Try_ Story conj.

  33-35: Text as in Capell. _A plague_--A cry within. Enter Sebastian,

    Anthonio, and Gonzalo. _upon this howling._ Ff.

  34-37: Verse. S. Walker conj.

  43: _for_] _from_ Theobald.

  46: _two courses off to sea_] _two courses; off to sea_ Steevens

    (Holt conj.).

  46: [Enter...] [Re-enter... Dyce.

  47: [Exeunt. Theobald.

  50: _at_] _are at_ Rowe.

  50-54: Printed as prose in Ff.

  56: _to glut_] _t’ englut_ Johnson conj.

  57: See note (II).

  59: _Farewell, brother!_] _Brother, farewell!_ Theobald.

  60: _with the_] Rowe. _with’_ F1 F2. _with_ F3 F4.

  61: [Exeunt A. and S.] [Exit. Ff.

  63: _furze_ Rowe. _firrs_ F1 F2 F3. _firs_ F4.

  _long heath, brown furze_] _ling, heath, broom, furze_ Hanmer.]

  65: [Exeunt] [Exit F1, om. F2 F3 F4.]





SCENE II. _The island. Before PROSPERO’S cell._



  _Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA._



_Mir._ If by your art, my dearest father, you have

Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.

The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,

But that the sea, mounting to the welkin’s cheek,

Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer’d                              5

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                                10

Have sunk the sea within the earth, or ere

It should the good ship so have swallow’d and

The fraughting souls within her.



_Pros._                        Be collected:

No more amazement: tell your piteous heart

There’s no harm done.



_Mir._              O, woe the day!



_Pros._                           No harm.                          15

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,                          20

And thy no greater father.



_Mir._                   More to know

Did never meddle with my thoughts.



_Pros._                          ’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.              25

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 order’d, that there is no soul,

No, not so much perdition as an hair                                30

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.



_Mir._                        You have often

Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp’d,

And left me to a bootless inquisition,                              35

Concluding “Stay: not yet.”



_Pros._                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                   40

Out three years old.



_Mir._             Certainly, sir, I can.



_Pros._ By what? by any other house or person?

Of any thing the image tell me that

Hath kept with thy remembrance.



_Mir._                        ’Tis far off,

And rather like a dream than an assurance                           45

That my remembrance warrants. Had I not

Four or five women once that tended me?



_Pros._ Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it

That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else

In the dark backward and abysm of time?                             50

If thou remember’st ought ere thou camest here,

How thou camest here thou mayst.



_Mir._                         But that I do not.



_Pros._ Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,

Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and

A prince of power.



_Mir._           Sir, are not you my father?                        55



_Pros._ 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.



_Mir._                       O the heavens!

What foul play had we, that we came from thence?                    60

Or blessed was’t we did?



_Pros._                Both, both, my girl:

By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heaved thence;

But blessedly holp hither.



_Mir._                   O, my heart bleeds

To think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to.

Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.                  65



_Pros._ 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 loved, and to him put

The manage of my state; as, at that time,                           70

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,                              75

And to my state grew stranger, being transported

And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle--

Dost thou attend me?



_Mir._             Sir, most heedfully.



_Pros._ Being once perfected how to grant suits,

How to deny them, whom to advance, and whom                         80

To trash for over-topping, new created

The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed ’em,

Or else new form’d ’em; having both the key

Of officer and office, set all hearts i’ the state

To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was                       85

The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,

And suck’d my verdure out on’t. Thou attend’st not.



_Mir._ O, good sir, I do.



_Pros._                 I pray thee, mark me.

I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated

To closeness and the bettering of my mind                           90

With that which, but by being so retired,

O’er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother

Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,

Like a good parent, did beget of him

A falsehood in its contrary, as great                               95

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,                           100

Made such a sinner of his memory,

To credit his own lie, he did believe

He was indeed the duke; out o’ the substitution,

And executing the outward face of royalty,

With all prerogative:--hence his ambition growing,--               105

Dost thou hear?



_Mir._        Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.



_Pros._ 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                    110

He thinks me now incapable; confederates,

So dry he was for sway, wi’ the King of Naples

To give him annual tribute, do him homage,

Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend

The dukedom, yet unbow’d,--alas, poor Milan!--                     115

To most ignoble stooping.



_Mir._                  O the heavens!



_Pros._ Mark his condition, and th’ event; then tell me

If this might be a brother.



_Mir._                    I should sin

To think but nobly of my grandmother:

Good wombs have borne bad sons.



_Pros._                       Now the condition.                   120

This King of Naples, being an enemy

To me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit;

Which was, that he, in lieu o’ the premises,

Of homage and I know not how much tribute,

Should presently extirpate me and mine                             125

Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan,

With all the honours, on my brother: whereon,

A treacherous army levied, one midnight

Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open

The gates of Milan; and, i’ the dead of darkness,                  130

The ministers for the purpose hurried thence

Me and thy crying self.



_Mir._                Alack, for pity!

I, not remembering how I cried out then,

Will cry it o’er again: it is a hint

That wrings mine eyes to’t.



_Pros._                   Hear a little further,                   135

And then I’ll bring thee to the present business

Which now’s upon ’s; without the which, this story

Were most impertinent.



_Mir._               Wherefore did they not

That hour destroy us?



_Pros._             Well demanded, wench:

My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,              140

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                   145

A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg’d,

Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats

Instinctively have quit it: there they hoist us,

To cry to the sea that roar’d to us; to sigh

To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,                      150

Did us but loving wrong.



_Mir._                 Alack, what trouble

Was I then to you!



_Pros._          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,                   155

Under my burthen groan’d; which raised in me

An undergoing stomach, to bear up

Against what should ensue.



_Mir._                   How came we ashore?



_Pros._ By Providence divine.

Some food we had, and some fresh water, that                       160

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,              165

Knowing I loved my books, he furnish’d me

From mine own library with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom.



_Mir._                  Would I might

But ever see that man!



_Pros._              Now I arise:  [_Resumes his mantle._

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.                    170

Here in this island we arrived; and here

Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit

Than other princesses can, that have more time

For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.



_Mir._ Heavens thank you for’t! And now, I pray you, sir,          175

For still ’tis beating in my mind, your reason

For raising this sea-storm?



_Pros._                   Know thus far forth.

By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,

Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies

Brought to this shore; and by my prescience                        180

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 inclined to sleep; ’tis a good dulness,                   185

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_._



_Ari._ All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come

To answer thy best pleasure; be’t to fly,                          190

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

On the curl’d clouds, to thy strong bidding task

Ariel and all his quality.



_Pros._                  Hast thou, spirit,

Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee?



_Ari._ To every article.                                           195

I boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak,

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

I flamed amazement: sometime I’ld divide,

And burn in many places; on the topmast,

The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,                  200

Then meet and join. Jove’s lightnings, the precursors

O’ the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary

And sight-outrunning were not: the fire and cracks

Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune

Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,                  205

Yea, his dread trident shake.



_Pros._                     My brave spirit!

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil

Would not infect his reason?



_Ari._                     Not a soul

But felt a fever of the mad, and play’d

Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners                       210

Plunged 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 leap’d; cried, “Hell is empty,

And all the devils are here.”



_Pros._                 Why, that’s my spirit!                     215

But was not this nigh shore?



_Ari._                    Close by, my master.



_Pros._ But are they, Ariel, safe?



_Ari._                           Not a hair perish’d;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,

But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,

In troops I have dispersed them ’bout the isle.                    220

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.



_Pros._                  Of the king’s ship

The mariners, say how thou hast disposed,                          225

And all the rest o’ the fleet.



_Ari._                       Safely in harbour

Is the king’s ship; in the deep nook, where once

Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew

From the still-vex’d Bermoothes, there she’s hid:

The mariners all under hatches stow’d;                             230

Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour,

I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet,

Which I dispersed, they all have met again,

And are upon the Mediterranean flote,

Bound sadly home for Naples;                                       235

Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d,

And his great person perish.



_Pros._                    Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is perform’d: but there’s more work.

What is the time o’ the day?



_Ari._                     Past the mid season.



_Pros._ At least two glasses. The time ’twixt six and now          240

Must by us both be spent most preciously.



_Ari._ Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,

Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,

Which is not yet perform’d me.



_Pros._                      How now? moody?

What is’t thou canst demand?



_Ari._                     My liberty.                             245



_Pros._ Before the time be out? no more!



_Ari._                                 I prithee,

Remember I have done thee worthy service;

Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served

Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise

To bate me a full year.



_Pros._               Dost thou forget                             250

From what a torment I did free thee?



_Ari._                             No.



_Pros._ 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’ the earth                        255

When it is baked with frost.



_Ari._                     I do not, sir.



_Pros._ Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot

The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy

Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?



_Ari._ No, sir.



_Pros._       Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.       260



_Ari._ Sir, in Argier.



_Pros._              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,                               265

Thou know’st, was banish’d: for one thing she did

They would not take her life. Is not this true?



_Ari._ Ay, sir.



_Pros._ This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child,

And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,                  270

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,                              275

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              280

As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island--

Save for the son that she did litter here,

A freckled whelp hag-born--not honour’d with

A human shape.



_Ari._       Yes, Caliban her son.



_Pros._ Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban,                    285

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                              290

Could not again undo: it was mine art,

When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape

The pine, and let thee out.



_Ari._                    I thank thee, master.



_Pros._ If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oak,

And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till                          295

Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters.



_Ari._                              Pardon, master:

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my spiriting gently.



_Pros._                   Do so; and after two days

I will discharge thee.



_Ari._               That’s my noble master!

What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?                        300



_Pros._ Go make thyself like a nymph o’ the sea:

Be subject to no sight but thine and mine; invisible

To every eyeball else. Go take this shape,

And hither come in’t: go, hence with diligence!



    [_Exit Ariel._



Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;                    305

Awake!



_Mir._ The strangeness of your story put

Heaviness in me.



_Pros._        Shake it off. Come on;

We’ll visit Caliban my slave, who never

Yields us kind answer.



_Mir._               ’Tis a villain, sir,

I do not love to look on.



_Pros._                 But, as ’tis,                              310

We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,

Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices

That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!

Thou earth, thou! speak.



_Cal._ [_within_] There’s wood enough within.



_Pros._ Come forth, I say! there’s other business for thee:        315

Come, thou tortoise! when?



  _Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph._



Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

Hark in thine ear.



_Ari._           My lord, it shall be done.    [_Exit._



_Pros._ Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself

Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!                                   320



  _Enter CALIBAN._



_Cal._ 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!



_Pros._ For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,        325

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.



_Cal._                 I must eat my dinner.                       330

This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother,

Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,

Thou strokedst me, and madest much of me; wouldst give me

Water with berries in’t; and teach me how

To name the bigger light, and how the less,                        335

That burn by day and night: and then I loved 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!                    340

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.



_Pros._               Thou most lying slave,

Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,             345

Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodged thee

In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate

The honour of my child.



_Cal._ O ho, O ho! would ’t had been done!

Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else                          350

This isle with Calibans.



_Pros._                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,                   355

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                    360

Deservedly confined into this rock,

Who hadst deserved more than a prison.



_Cal._ 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!



_Pros._                      Hag-seed, hence!                      365

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,                     370

That beasts shall tremble at thy din.



_Cal._                              No, pray thee.

[_Aside_] I must obey: his art is of such power,

It would control my dam’s god, Setebos,

And make a vassal of him.



_Pros._                 So, slave; hence!    [_Exit Caliban._



  _Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND

  following._



_ARIEL’S song._



    Come unto these yellow sands,                                  375

        And then take hands:

    Courtsied when you have and kiss’d

        The wild waves whist:

    Foot it featly here and there;

    And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.                          380



 _Burthen_ [_dispersedly_]. Hark, hark!

                           Bow-wow.

        The watch-dogs bark:

                            Bow-wow.



_Ari._  Hark, hark! I hear

        The strain of strutting chanticleer                        385

        Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.



_Fer._ 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,                          390

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.                                               395



_ARIEL sings._



    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                                   400

    Into something rich and strange.

    Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:



                    _Burthen:_ Ding-dong.



_Ari._ Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell.



_Fer._ The ditty does remember my drown’d father.                  405

This is no mortal business, nor no sound

That the earth owes:--I hear it now above me.



_Pros._ The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,

And say what thou seest yond.



_Mir._                      What is’t? a spirit?

Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,                         410

It carries a brave form. But ’tis a spirit.



_Pros._ 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          415

A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,

And strays about to find ’em.



_Mir._                      I might call him

A thing divine; for nothing natural

I ever saw so noble.



_Pros._ [_Aside_] It goes on, I see,

As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I’ll free thee         420

Within two days for this.



_Fer._                  Most sure, the goddess

On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer

May know if you remain upon this island;

And that you will some good instruction give

How I may bear me here: my prime request,                          425

Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!

If you be maid or no?



_Mir._              No wonder, sir;

But certainly a maid.



_Fer._              My language! heavens!

I am the best of them that speak this speech,

Were I but where ’tis spoken.



_Pros._                     How? the best?                         430

What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?



_Fer._ A single thing, as I am now, that wonders

To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;

And that he does I weep: myself am Naples,

Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld                     435

The king my father wreck’d.



_Mir._                    Alack, for mercy!



_Fer._ Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan

And his brave son being twain.



_Pros._                      [_Aside_] The Duke of Milan

And his more braver daughter could control thee,

If now ’twere fit to do’t. At the first sight                      440

They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,

I’ll set thee free for this. [_To Fer._] A word, good sir;

I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.



_Mir._ Why speaks my father so ungently? This

Is the third man that e’er I saw; the first                        445

That e’er I sigh’d for: pity move my father

To be inclined my way!



_Fer._               O, if a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I’ll make you

The queen of Naples.



_Pros._            Soft, sir! one word more.

[_Aside_] They are both in either’s powers:

        but this swift business                                    450

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

Make the prize light. [_To Fer._] One word more; I charge thee

That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp

The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself

Upon this island as a spy, to win it                               455

From me, the lord on’t.



_Fer._                No, as I am a man.



_Mir._ 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.



_Pros._                                Follow me.

Speak not you for him; he’s a traitor. Come;                       460

I’ll manacle thy neck and feet together:

Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be

The fresh-brook muscles, wither’d roots, and husks

Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.



_Fer._                           No;

I will resist such entertainment till                              465

Mine enemy has more power.

            [_Draws, and is charmed from moving._



_Mir._                O dear father,

Make not too rash a trial of him, for

He’s gentle, and not fearful.



_Pros._                     What! I say,

My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;

Who makest a show, but darest not strike, thy conscience           470

Is so possess’d with guilt: come from thy ward;

For I can here disarm thee with this stick

And make thy weapon drop.



_Mir._                  Beseech you, father.



_Pros._ Hence! hang not on my garments.



_Mir._                                Sir, have pity;

I’ll be his surety.



_Pros._           Silence! one word more                           475

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 the most of men this is a Caliban,                              480

And they to him are angels.



_Mir._                    My affections

Are, then, most humble; I have no ambition

To see a goodlier man.



_Pros._              Come on; obey:

Thy nerves are in their infancy again,

And have no vigour in them.



_Fer._             So they are:                                    485

My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.

My father’s loss, the weakness which I feel,

The wreck of all my friends, nor this man’s threats,

To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,

Might I but through my prison once a day                           490

Behold this maid: all corners else o’ th’ earth

Let liberty make use of; space enough

Have I in such a prison.



_Pros._ [_Aside_]      It works. [_To Fer._] Come on.

Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [_To Fer._] Follow me.

[_To Ari._] Hark what thou else shalt do me.



_Mir._                                     Be of comfort;          495

My father’s of a better nature, sir,

Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted

Which now came from him.



_Pros._                Thou shalt be as free

As mountain winds: but then exactly do

All points of my command.



_Ari._                  To the syllable.                           500



_Pros._ Come, follow. Speak not for him.    [_Exeunt._





  Notes: I, 2.



  3: _stinking_] _flaming_ Singer conj. _kindling_ S. Verges conj.

  4: _cheek_] _heat_ Collier MS. _crack_ Staunton conj.

  7: _creature_] _creatures_ Theobald.

  13: _fraughting_] Ff. _fraighted_ Pope. _fraighting_ Theobald.

    _freighting_ Steevens.

  15: Mir. _O, woe the day!_ Pros. _No harm._] Mir. _O woe the day!

    no harm?_ Johnson conj.

  19: _I am more better_] _I’m more or better_ Pope.

  24: [Lays ... mantle] Pope.

  28: _provision_] F1. _compassion_ F2 F3 F4. _prevision_ Hunter conj.

  29: _soul_] _soul lost_ Rowe. _foyle_ Theobald. _soil_ Johnson conj.

    _loss_ Capell. _foul_ Wright conj.

  31: _betid_] F1. _betide_ F2 F3 F4.

  35: _a_] F1. _the_ F2 F3 F4.

  38: _thou_] om. Pope.

  41: _Out_] _Full_ Pope (after Dryden). _Quite_ Collier MS.

  44: _with_] _in_ Pope (after Dryden).

  53: _Twelve year ... year_] _Tis twelve years ... years_ Pope.

  58, 59: _and his only heir And princess_] _and his only heir

    A princess_ Pope. _thou his only heir And princess_ Steevens.

    _and though his only heir A princess_] Johnson conj.

  63: _holp_] _help’d_ Pope.

  _O, my heart_] _My heart_ Pope.

  78: _me_] om. F3 F4.

  80: _whom ... whom_] F2 F3 F4. _who ... who_ F1.

  81: _trash_] _plash_ Hanmer.

  82, 83: _’em ... ’em_] _them ... them_ Capell.

  84: _i’ the state_] _i’th state_ F1. _e’th state_ F2.

    _o’th state_ F3 F4. om. Pope.

  88: _O, good sir ... mark me._] _Good sir ... mark me then._ Pope.

    _O yes, good sir ... mark me._ Capell.

  Mir. _O, ... do._ Pros. _I ... me_] _I ... me._ Mir. _O ... do._

    Steevens.

  89: _dedicated_] _dedicate_ Steevens (Ritson conj.).

  91: _so_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.

  97: _lorded_] _loaded_ Collier MS.

  99: _exact, like_] _exact. Like_ Ff.

  100: _having into truth ... of it_] _loving an untruth, and telling

    ’t oft_ Hanmer. _having unto truth ... oft_ Warburton. _having to

    untruth ... of it_ Collier MS. _having sinn’d to truth ... oft_

    Musgrave conj.

  _telling_] _quelling_ S. Verges conj.

  101: _Made ... memory_] _Makes ... memory_ Hanmer. _Makes ...

    memory too_ Musgrave conj.

  103: _indeed the duke_] _the duke_ Steevens. _indeed duke_ S. Walker

    conj.

  _out o’ the_] _from_ Pope.

  105: _his_] _is_ F2.

  105, 106: _ambition growing_] _ambition Growing_ Steevens.

  106: _hear?_] _hear, child?_ Hanmer.

  109: _Milan_] _Millanie_ F1 (Capell’s copy).

  112: _wi’ the_] Capell. _with_ Ff. _wi’ th’_ Rowe. _with the_

    Steevens.

  116: _most_] F1. _much_ F2 F3 F4.

  119: _but_] _not_ Pope.

  120: _Good ... sons_] Theobald suggested that these words should be

    given to Prospero. Hanmer prints them so.

  122: _hearkens_] _hears_ Pope. _hearks_ Theobald.

  129: _Fated_] _Mated_ Dryden’s version.

  _purpose_] _practise_ Collier MS.

  131: _ministers_] _minister_ Rowe.

  133: _out_] _on’t_ Steevens conj.

  135: _to ’t_] om. Steevens (Farmer conj.).

  138: _Wherefore_] _Why_ Pope.

  141: _me_] om. Pope.

  146: _boat_] Rowe (after Dryden). _butt_ F1 F2 F3. _but_ F4.

    _busse_ Black conj.

  147: _sail_] F1. _nor sail_ F2 F3 F4.

  148: _have_] _had_ Rowe (after Dryden).

  150: _the winds_] _winds_ Pope.

  155: _deck’d_] _brack’d_ Hanmer. _mock’d_ Warburton. _fleck’d_

    Johnson conj. _degg’d_ anon. ap. Reed conj.

  162: _who_] om. Pope. _he_ Steevens conj.

  169: _Now I arise_] Continued to Miranda. Blackstone conj.

  [Resumes his mantle] om. Ff. [Put on robe again. Collier MS.

  173: _princesses_] _princesse_ F1 F2 F3. _princess_ F4.

    _princes_ Rowe. _princess’_ Dyce (S. Walker conj.). See note (III).

  186: [M. sleeps] Theobald.

  189: SCENE III. Pope.

  190: _be’t_] F1. _be it_ F2 F3 F4.

  193: _quality_] _qualities_ Pope (after Dryden).

  198: _sometime_] F1. _sometimes_ F2 F3 F4.

  200: _bowsprit_] _bore-sprit_ Ff. _bolt-sprit_ Rowe.

  201: _lightnings_] Theobald. _lightning_ Ff.

  202: _o’ the_] _of_ Pope.

  _thunder-claps_] _thunder-clap_ Johnson.

  205: _Seem_] _Seem’d_ Theobald.

  206: _dread_] F1. _dead_ F2 F3 F4.

  _My brave_] _My brave, brave_ Theobald. _That’s my brave_ Hanmer.

  209: _mad_] _mind_ Pope (after Dryden).

  211, 212: _vessel, ... son_] _vessell; Then all a fire with me

    the King’s sonne_ Ff.

  218: _sustaining_] _sea-stained_ Edwards conj. _unstaining_ or

    _sea-staining_ Spedding conj.

  229: _Bermoothes_] _Bermudas_ Theobald.

  231: _Who_] _Whom_ Hanmer.

  234: _are_] _all_ Collier MS.

  _upon_] _on_ Pope.

  239-240: Ari. _Past the mid season._ Pros. _At least two glasses_]

    Ari. _Past the mid season at least two glasses._ Warburton.

    Pros. _... Past the mid season?_ Ari. _At least two glasses_

    Johnson conj.

  244: _How now? moody?_] _How now, moody!_ Dyce (so Dryden, ed. 1808).

  245: _What_] F1. _Which_ F2 F3 F4.

  248: _made thee_] Ff. _made_ Pope.

  249: _didst_] F3 F4. _did_ F1 F2.

  264: _and sorceries_] _sorceries too_ Hanmer.

  267: _Is not this true?_] _Is this not true?_ Pope.

  271: _wast then_] Rowe (after Dryden). _was then_ Ff.

  273: _earthy_] _earthly_ Pope.

  282: _son_] F1. _sunne_ F2. _sun_ F3 F4.

  _she_] Rowe (after Dryden). _he_ Ff.

  298: See note (IV).

  301: _like_] F1. _like to_ F2 F3 F4.

  302: _Be subject to_] _be subject To_ Malone.

  _but thine and mine_] _but mine_ Pope.

  304: _in’t_] _in it_ Pope.

  _go, hence_] _goe: hence_ Ff. _go hence_ Pope. _hence_ Hanmer.

  307: _Heaviness_] _Strange heaviness_ Edd. conj.

  312: _serves in offices_] F1. _serves offices_ F2 F3 F4.

    _serveth offices_ Collier MS.

  316: _Come, thou tortoise! when?_] om. Pope.

  _Come_] _Come forth_ Steevens.]

  320: _come forth!_] _come forth, thou tortoise!_ Pope.

  321: SCENE IV. Pope.

  332: _camest_] Rowe. _cam’st_ Ff. _cam’st here_ Ritson conj.

  333: _madest_] Rowe (after Dryden). _made_ Ff.

  339: _Curs’d be I that_] F1. _Curs’d be I that I_ F2 F3 F4.

    _cursed be I that_ Steevens.

  342: _Which_] _Who_ Pope, and at line 351.

  346: _thee_] om. F4.

  349: _would ’t_] Ff. _I wou’d it_ Pope.

  351: Pros.] Theobald (after Dryden). Mira. Ff.

  352: _wilt_] F1. _will_ F2 F3 F4.

  355, 356: _didst not ... Know_] _couldst not ... Shew_ Hanmer.

  356: _wouldst_] _didst_ Hanmer.

  361, 362: _Deservedly ... deserved_] _Justly ... who hadst Deserv’d_

    S. Walker conj. _Confin’d ... deserv’d_ id. conj.

  362: _Who ... prison_] om. Pope (after Dryden).

  366: _thou’rt_] F1 F2 F3. _thou art_ F4. _thou wer’t_ Rowe.

  375: SCENE V. Pope.

  following.] Malone.

  378: _The wild waves whist_] Printed as a parenthesis by Steevens.

    See note (V).

  380: _the burthen bear_] Pope. _bear the burthen_ Ff.

  381-383: Steevens gives _Hark, hark! The watch-dogs bark_ to Ariel.

  387: _i’ th’ air or th’ earth?_] _in air or earth?_ Pope.

  390: _again_] _against_ Rowe (after Dryden).

  407: _owes_] _owns_ Pope (after Dryden), but leaves _ow’st_ 454.

  408: SCENE VI. Pope.

  419: _It goes on, I see,_] _It goes, I see_ Capell. _It goes on_

    Steevens.

  420: _fine spirit!_] om. Hanmer.

  427: _maid_] F3. _mayd_ F1 F2. _made_ F4.

  443: See note (VI).

  444: _ungently_] F1. _urgently_ F2 F3 F4.

  451: _lest_] F4. _least_ F1 F2 F3.

  452: _One_] _Sir, one_ Pope.

    _I charge thee_] _I charge thee_ [to Ariel. Pope.

  460: Pros. prefixed again to this line in Ff.

  468: _and_] _tho’_ Hanmer.

  469: _foot_] _fool_ S. Walker conj. _child_ Dryden’s version.

  470: _makest_] _mak’st_ F1. _makes_ F2 F3 F4.

  471: _so_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4. _all_ Pope.

  478: _is_] _are_ Rowe.

  488: _nor_] _and_ Rowe (after Dryden). _or_ Capell.

  489: _are_] _were_ Malone conj.









ACT II.





SCENE I. _Another part of the island._



  _Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO,

  and others._



_Gon._ Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,

So have we all, of joy; for our escape

Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe

Is common; every day, some sailor’s wife,

The masters of some merchant, and the merchant,                      5

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.



_Alon._                    Prithee, peace.



_Seb._ He receives comfort like cold porridge.                      10



_Ant._ The visitor will not give him o’er so.



_Seb._ Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit; by

and by it will strike.



_Gon._ Sir,--



_Seb._ One: tell.                                                   15



_Gon._ When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d,

Comes to the entertainer--



_Seb._ A dollar.



_Gon._ Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken

truer than you purposed.                                            20



_Seb._ You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.



_Gon._ Therefore, my lord,--



_Ant._ Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!



_Alon._ I prithee, spare.



_Gon._ Well, I have done: but yet,--                                25



_Seb._ He will be talking.



_Ant._ Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first

begins to crow?



_Seb._ The old cock.



_Ant._ The cockerel.                                                30



_Seb._ Done. The wager?



_Ant._ A laughter.



_Seb._ A match!



_Adr._ Though this island seem to be desert,--



_Seb._ Ha, ha, ha!--So, you’re paid.                                35



_Adr._ Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,--



_Seb._ Yet,--



_Adr._ Yet,--



_Ant._ He could not miss’t.



_Adr._ It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate              40

temperance.



_Ant._ Temperance was a delicate wench.



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



_Adr._ The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.



_Seb._ As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.                         45



_Ant._ Or as ’twere perfumed by a fen.



_Gon._ Here is every thing advantageous to life.



_Ant._ True; save means to live.



_Seb._ Of that there’s none, or little.



_Gon._ How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!               50



_Ant._ The ground, indeed, is tawny.



_Seb._ With an eye of green in’t.



_Ant._ He misses not much.



_Seb._ No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.



_Gon._ But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost             55

beyond credit,--



_Seb._ As many vouched rarities are.



_Gon._ That our garments, being, as they were, drenched

in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and glosses,

being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water.                 60



_Ant._ If but one of his pockets could speak, would it

not say he lies?



_Seb._ Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.



_Gon._ Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when

we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king’s        65

fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.



_Seb._ ’Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in

our return.



_Adr._ Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon

to their queen.                                                     70



_Gon._ Not since widow Dido’s time.



_Ant._ Widow! a pox o’ that! How came that widow

in? widow Dido!



_Seb._ What if he had said ‘widower Æneas’ too? Good

Lord, how you take it!                                              75



_Adr._ ‘Widow Dido’ said you? you make me study of

that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.



_Gon._ This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.



_Adr._ Carthage?



_Gon._ I assure you, Carthage.                                      80



_Seb._ His word is more than the miraculous harp; he

hath raised the wall, and houses too.



_Ant._ What impossible matter will he make easy next?



_Seb._ I think he will carry this island home in his

pocket, and give it his son for an apple.                           85



_Ant._ And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring

forth more islands.



_Gon._ Ay.



_Ant._ Why, in good time.



_Gon._ Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now              90

as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your

daughter, who is now queen.



_Ant._ And the rarest that e’er came there.



_Seb._ Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.



_Ant._ O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.                               95



_Gon._ Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I

wore it? I mean, in a sort.



_Ant._ That sort was well fished for.



_Gon._ When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage?



_Alon._ You cram these words into mine ears against                100

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                      105

Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish

Hath made his meal on thee?



_Fran._                   Sir, he may live:

I saw him beat the surges under him,

And ride upon their backs; he trod the water.

Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted                          110

The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head

’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar’d

Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke

To the shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bow’d,

As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt                            115

He came alive to land.



_Alon._              No, no, he’s gone.



_Seb._ Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,

That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,

But rather lose her to an African;

Where she, at least, is banish’d from your eye,                    120

Who hath cause to wet the grief on’t.



_Alon._                             Prithee, peace.



_Seb._ You were kneel’d to, and importuned otherwise,

By all of us; and the fair soul herself

Weigh’d between loathness and obedience, at

Which end o’ the beam should bow. We have lost your son,           125

I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have

More widows in them of this business’ making

Than we bring men to comfort them:

The fault’s your own.



_Alon._             So is the dear’st o’ the loss.



_Gon._ My lord Sebastian,                                          130

The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,

And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,

When you should bring the plaster.



_Seb._                           Very well.



_Ant._ And most chirurgeonly.



_Gon._ It is foul weather in us all, good sir,                     135

When you are cloudy.



_Seb._             Foul weather?



_Ant._                         Very foul.



_Gon._ Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,--



_Ant._ He’ld sow’t with nettle-seed.



_Seb._                             Or docks, or mallows.



_Gon._ And were the king on’t, what would I do?



_Seb._ ’Scape being drunk for want of wine.                        140



_Gon._ I’ the 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,                    145

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;--                                                  150



_Seb._      Yet he would be king on’t.



_Ant._ The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the

beginning.



_Gon._ All things in common nature should produce

Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,

Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,                    155

Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,

Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,

To feed my innocent people.



_Seb._ No marrying ’mong his subjects?



_Ant._ None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.                     160



_Gon._ I would with such perfection govern, sir,

To excel the golden age.



_Seb._                 ’Save his majesty!



_Ant._ Long live Gonzalo!



_Gon._                  And,--do you mark me, sir?



_Alon._ Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.



_Gon._ I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister     165

occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible

and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.



_Ant._ ’Twas you we laughed at.



_Gon._ Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to

you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.              170



_Ant._ What a blow was there given!



_Seb._ An it had not fallen flat-long.



_Gon._ You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would

lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it

five weeks without changing.                                       175





  _Enter ARIEL (invisible) playing solemn music._



_Seb._ We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.



_Ant._ Nay, good my lord, be not angry.



_Gon._ No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion

so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very

heavy?                                                             180



_Ant._ Go sleep, and hear us.

            [_All sleep except Alon., Seb., and Ant._



_Alon._ What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes

Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find

They are inclined to do so.



_Seb._                    Please you, sir,

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:                                 185

It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,

It is a comforter.



_Ant._           We two, my lord,

Will guard your person while you take your rest,

And watch your safety.



_Alon._              Thank you.--Wondrous heavy.

                                [_Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel._



_Seb._ What a strange drowsiness possesses them!                   190



_Ant._ It is the quality o’ the climate.



_Seb._                                 Why

Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not

Myself disposed to sleep.



_Ant._                  Nor I; my spirits are nimble.

They fell together all, as by consent;

They dropp’d, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,                  195

Worthy Sebastian?--O, what might?--No more:--

And yet methinks I see it in thy face,

What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee; and

My strong imagination sees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.



_Seb._                What, art thou waking?                       200



_Ant._ Do you not hear me speak?



_Seb._                         I do; and surely

It is a sleepy language, and thou speak’st

Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?

This is a strange repose, to be asleep

With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,                   205

And yet so fast asleep.



_Ant._                Noble Sebastian,

Thou let’st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink’st

Whiles thou art waking.



_Seb._                Thou dost snore distinctly;

There’s meaning in thy snores.



_Ant._ I am more serious than my custom: you                       210

Must be so too, if heed me; which to do

Trebles thee o’er.



_Seb._           Well, I am standing water.



_Ant._ I’ll teach you how to flow.



_Seb._                           Do so: to ebb

Hereditary sloth instructs me.



_Ant._                       O,

If you but knew how you the purpose cherish                        215

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.



_Seb._                    Prithee, say on:

The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim                        220

A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,

Which throes thee much to yield.



_Ant._                         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,--                  225

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.



_Seb._                      I have no hope

That he’s undrown’d.



_Ant._             O, out of that ‘no hope’                        230

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?



_Seb._                   He’s gone.



_Ant._                            Then, tell me,                   235

Who’s the next heir of Naples?



_Seb._                       Claribel.



_Ant._ She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells

Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples

Can have no note, unless the sun were post,--

The man i’ the moon’s too slow,--till new-born chins               240

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.



_Seb._                   What stuff is this! How say you?          245

’Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s queen of Tunis;

So is she heir of Naples; ’twixt which regions

There is some space.



_Ant._             A space whose every cubit

Seems to cry out, “How shall that Claribel

Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,                          250

And let Sebastian wake.” Say, this were death

That now hath seized 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                                         255

As this Gonzalo; I myself could make

A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore

The mind that I do! what a sleep were this

For your advancement! Do you understand me?



_Seb._ Methinks I do.



_Ant._              And how does your content                      260

Tender your own good fortune?



_Seb._                      I remember

You did supplant your brother Prospero.



_Ant._                                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.                         265



_Seb._ But for your conscience.



_Ant._ 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,                   270

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,                   275

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                        280

We say befits the hour.



_Seb._                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.



_Ant._                        Draw together;                       285

And when I rear my hand, do you the like,

To fall it on Gonzalo.



_Seb._               O, but one word.      [_They talk apart._



  _Re-enter ARIEL invisible._



_Ari._ 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.                   290

                            [_Sings in Gonzalo’s ear._



While you here do snoring lie,

Open-eyed conspiracy

    His time doth take.

If of life you keep a care,

Shake off slumber, and beware:                                     295

    Awake, awake!



_Ant._ Then let us both be sudden.



_Gon._                           Now, good angels

Preserve the king!                          [_They wake._



_Alon._ Why, how now? ho, awake!--Why are you drawn?

Wherefore this ghastly looking?



_Gon._                        What’s the matter?                   300



_Seb._ Whiles we stood here securing your repose,

Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing

Like bulls, or rather lions: did’t not wake you?

It struck mine ear most terribly.



_Alon._                         I heard nothing.



_Ant._ O, ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear,                   305

To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar

Of a whole herd of lions.



_Alon._                 Heard you this, Gonzalo?



_Gon._ Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,

And that a strange one too, which did awake me:

I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open’d,                 310

I saw their weapons drawn:--there was a noise,

That’s verily. ’Tis best we stand upon our guard,

Or that we quit this place: let’s draw our weapons.



_Alon._ Lead off this ground; and let’s make further search

For my poor son.



_Gon._         Heavens keep him from these beasts!                 315

For he is, sure, i’ th’ island.



_Alon._                       Lead away.



_Ari._ Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:

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





  Notes: II, 1.



  3: _hint_] _stint_ Warburton.

  5: _masters_] _master_ Johnson. _mistress_ Steevens conj.

    _master’s_ Edd. conj.

  6: _of woe_] om. Steevens conj.

  11-99: Marked as interpolated by Pope.

  11: _visitor_] _’viser_ Warburton.

  _him_] om. Rowe.

  15: _one_] F1. _on_ F2 F3 F4.

  16: _entertain’d ... Comes_] Capell. _entertain’d, That’s offer’d

    comes_] Ff. Printed as prose by Pope.

  27: _of he_] Ff. _of them, he_ Pope. _or he_ Collier MS.

    See note (VII).

  35: Seb. _Ha, ha, ha!--So you’re paid_] Theobald. Seb. _Ha, ha, ha!_

    Ant. _So you’r paid_ Ff. Ant. _So you’ve paid_ Capell.

  81, 82: Seb. _His ... too_] Edd. Ant. _His ... harp._

    Seb. _He ... too_ Ff.

  88: _Ay._] I. Ff. _Ay?_ Pope.

  96: _sir, my doublet_] F1. _my doublet, sir_ F2 F3 F4.

  113: _stroke_] F1 F2 F3. _strokes_ F4.

  124: _Weigh’d_] _Sway’d_ S. Verges conj.

  _at_] _as_ Collier MS.]

  125: _o’ the_] _the_ Pope.

  _should_] _she’d_ Malone.

  129: _The fault’s your own_] _the fault’s your own_ (at the end

    of 128) Capell. _the fault’s Your own_ Malone.

  137: _plantation_] _the plantation_ Rowe. _the planting_ Hanmer.

  139: _on’t_] _of it_ Hanmer.

  144: _riches, poverty_] _wealth, poverty_ Pope. _poverty, riches_

    Capell.

  145: _contract, succession_] _succession, Contract_ Malone conj.

    _succession, None_ id. conj.

  146: _none_] _olives, none_ Hanmer.

  157: _its_] F3 F4. _it_ F1 F2. See note (VIII).

  162: _’Save_] F1 F2 F3. _Save_ F4. _God save_ Edd. conj.

  175: Enter ... invisible ... music.] Malone. Enter Ariel, playing

    solemn music. Ff. om. Pope. [Solemn music. Capell.

  181: [All sleep ... Ant.] Stage direction to the same effect,

    first inserted by Capell.

  182-189: Text as in Pope. In Ff. the lines begin _Would ... I find

    ... Do not ... It seldom ... We two ... While ... Thank._

  189: [Exit Ariel] Malone.

  192: _find not_ Pope. _find Not_ Ff.

  211: _so too, if heed_] _so too, if you heed_ Rowe.

    _so, if you heed_ Pope.

  212: _Trebles thee o’er_] _Troubles thee o’er_ Pope.

    _Troubles thee not_ Hanmer.

  222: _throes_] Pope. _throwes_ F1 F2 F3. _throws_ F4.

  _Thus, sir_] _Why then thus Sir_ Hanmer.

  226: _he’s_] _he’as_ Hanmer. _he_ Johnson conj.

  227: _Professes to persuade_] om. Steevens.

  234: _doubt_] _drops_ Hanmer. _doubts_ Capell.

  241: _she that from whom_] Ff. _she from whom_ Rowe.

    _she for whom_ Pope. _she from whom coming_ Singer.

    _she that--from whom?_ Spedding conj. See note (IX).

  242: _all_] om. Pope.

  243: _And ... to perform_] _May ... perform_ Pope. _And by that

    destin’d to perform_ Musgrave conj. _(And that by destiny)

    to perform_ Staunton conj.

  244: _is_] F1. _in_ F2 F3 F4.

  245: _In_] _Is_ Pope.

  250: _to_] F1. _by_ F2 F3 F4.

  _Keep_] _Sleep_ Johnson conj.

  251: See note (X).

  267: _’twere_] _it were_ Singer.

  267-271: Pope ends the lines with _that? ... slipper ... bosom ...

    Milan ... molest ... brother._

  267: See note (XI).

  269: _twenty_] _Ten_ Pope.

  270: _stand_] _stood_ Hanmer.

  _candied_] _Discandy’d_ Upton conj.

  271: _And melt_] _Would melt_ Johnson conj. _Or melt_ id. conj.

  273, 274: _like, that’s dead; Whom I, with_] _like, whom I With_

    Steevens (Farmer conj.).

  275: _whiles_] om. Pope.

  277: _morsel_] _Moral_ Warburton.

  280, 281: _business ... hour._] _hour ... business._ Farmer conj.

  282: _precedent_] Pope. _president_ Ff.

  _O_] om. Pope.

  [They talk apart] Capell.

  Re-enter Ariel invisible.] Capell. Enter Ariel with music and

    song. Ff.

  289: _you, his friend,_] _these, his friends_ Steevens

    (Johnson conj.).

  289, 290: _friend ... project dies ... them_] _friend ... projects

    dies ... you_ Hanmer. _friend ... projects die ... them_

    Malone conj. _friend ... project dies ... thee_ Dyce.

  298: [They wake.] Rowe.

  300: _this_] _thus_ Collier MS.

  307: _Gonzalo_] om. Pope.

  312: _verily_] _verity_ Pope.

  _upon our guard_] _on guard_ Pope.





SCENE II. _Another part of the island._



  _Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard._



_Cal._ All the infections that the sun sucks up

From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him

By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,

And yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch,

Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i’ the mire,                   5

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                       10

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                       15

For bringing wood in slowly. I’ll fall flat;

Perchance he will not mind me.



_Trin._ Here’s neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any

weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i’

the wind: yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks               20

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; a kind      25

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          30

relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead

Indian. Legged like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm

o’ my troth! I do now let loose my opinion; hold it no

longer: this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately

suffered by a thunderbolt. [_Thunder._] Alas, the storm is come     35

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._



_Ste._ I shall no more to sea, to sea,                              40

                Here shall I die a-shore,--



This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral: well,

here’s my comfort.                                  [_Drinks._





[_Sings._ The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,

                       The gunner, and his mate,                    45

               Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,

                   But none of us cared for Kate;

                   For she had a tongue with a tang,

                   Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!

               She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch;        50

               Yet a tailor might scratch her where’er she did itch.

                   Then, to sea, boys, and let her go hang!



This is a scurvy tune too: but here’s my comfort. [_Drinks._



_Cal._ Do not torment me:--O!



_Ste._ What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do                   55

you put tricks upon ’s with savages and men of Ind, ha? I

have not scaped 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’s nostrils.               60



_Cal._ The spirit torments me:--O!



_Ste._ This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who

hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he

learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be

but for that. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, and          65

get to Naples with him, he’s a present for any emperor that

ever trod on neat’s-leather.



_Cal._ Do not torment me, prithee; I’ll bring my wood

home faster.



_Ste._ He’s in his fit now, and does not talk after the             70

wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk

wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover

him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much for

him; he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly.



_Cal._ Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I          75

know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.



_Ste._ Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that

which will give language to you, cat: open your mouth; this

will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly:

you cannot tell who’s your friend: open your chaps again.           80



_Trin._ I should know that voice: it should be--but he

is drowned; and these are devils:--O defend me!



_Ste._ Four legs and two voices,--a most delicate monster!

His forward voice, now, is to speak well of his friend;

his backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract.        85

If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help

his ague. Come:--Amen! I will pour some in thy other

mouth.



_Trin._ Stephano!



_Ste._ Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy!                  90

This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have

no long spoon.



_Trin._ Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me,

and speak to me; for I am Trinculo,--be not afeard,--thy

good friend Trinculo.                                               95



_Ste._ If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I’ll pull thee

by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo’s legs, these are they.

Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How earnest thou to be

the siege of this moon-calf? can he vent Trinculos?



_Trin._ I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke.             100

But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope, now, thou

art not drowned. 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

scaped!                                                            105



_Ste._ Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not

constant.



_Cal._ [_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.                                               110



_Ste._ How didst thou ’scape? How camest thou hither?

swear, by this bottle, how thou camest hither. I escaped

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.                                115



_Cal._ I’ll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy true subject;

for the liquor is not earthly.



_Ste._ Here; swear, then, how thou escapedst.



_Trin._ Swum ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim

like a duck, I’ll be sworn.                                        120



_Ste._ Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim

like a duck, thou art made like a goose.



_Trin._ O Stephano, hast any more of this?



_Ste._ The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by

the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf!            125

how does thine ague?



_Cal._ Hast thou not dropp’d from heaven?



_Ste._ Out o’ the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man

i’ the moon when time was.



_Cal._ I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee:               130

My mistress show’d me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush.



_Ste._ Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish

it anon with new contents: swear.



_Trin._ By this good light, this is a very shallow monster!

I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The                          135

man i’ the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well

drawn, monster, in good sooth!



_Cal._ I’ll show thee every fertile inch o’ th’ island;

And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god.



_Trin._ By this light, a most perfidious and drunken               140

monster! when’s god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle.



_Cal._ I’ll kiss thy foot; I’ll swear myself thy subject.



_Ste._ Come on, then; down, and swear.



_Trin._ I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed

monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in                    145

my heart to beat him,--



_Ste._ Come, kiss.



_Trin._ But that the poor monster’s in drink: an abominable

monster!



_Cal._ I’ll show thee the best springs; I’ll pluck thee berries;   150

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.



_Trin._ A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder                155

of a poor drunkard!



_Cal._ I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;

And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;

Show thee a jay’s nest, and instruct thee how

To snare the nimble marmoset; I’ll bring thee                      160

To clustering filberts, and sometimes I’ll get thee

Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?



_Ste._ I prithee now, lead the way, without any more

talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company else being

drowned, we will inherit here: here; bear my bottle: fellow        165

Trinculo, we’ll fill him by and by again.



_Cal. sings drunkenly._] Farewell, master; farewell, farewell!



_Trin._ A howling monster; a drunken monster!



_Cal._ No more dams I’ll make for fish;

                Nor fetch in firing                                170

                At requiring;

             Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish:

                ’Ban, ’Ban, Cacaliban

                Has a new master:--get a new man.



Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-day,              175

freedom!



_Ste._ O brave monster! Lead the way.    [_Exeunt._





  Notes: II, 2.



  4: _nor_] F1 F2. _not_ F3 F4.

  15: _and_] _now_ Pope. _sent_ Edd. conj. (so Dryden).

  21: _foul_] _full_ Upton conj.

  35: [Thunder] Capell.

  38: _dregs_] _drench_ Collier MS.

  40: SCENE III. Pope.

  [a bottle in his hand] Capell.]

  46: _and Marian_] _Mirian_ Pope.

  56: _savages_] _salvages_ Ff.

  60: _at’s nostrils_] Edd. _at ’nostrils_ F1. _at nostrils_ F2 F3 F4.

    _at his nostrils_ Pope.

  78: _you, cat_] _you Cat_ Ff. _a cat_ Hanmer. _your cat_ Edd. conj.

  84: _well_] F1 om. F2 F3 F4.

  115, 116: Steevens prints as verse, _I’ll ... thy True ... earthly._

  118: _swear, then, how thou escapedst_] _swear then: how escapedst

    thou?_ Pope.

  119: _Swum_] _Swom_ Ff.

  131: _and thy dog, and thy bush_] _thy dog and bush_ Steevens.

  133: _new_] F1. _the new_ F2 F3 F4.

  135: _weak_] F1. _shallow_ F2 F3 F4.

  138: _island_] F1. _isle_ F2 F3 F4.

  150-154, 157-162, printed as verse by Pope (after Dryden).

  162: _scamels_] _shamois_ Theobald. _seamalls, stannels_ id. conj.

  163: Ste.] F1. Cal. F2 F3 F4.

  165: Before _here; bear my bottle_ Capell inserts [To Cal.].

    See note (XII).

  172: _trencher_] Pope (after Dryden). _trenchering_ Ff.

  175: _hey-day_] Rowe. _high-day_ Ff.









ACT III.





SCENE I. _Before PROSPERO’S cell._



  _Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log._



_Fer._ There be some sports are painful, and their labour

Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness

Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters

Point to rich ends. This my mean task

Would be as heavy to me as odious, but                               5

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 composed of harshness. I must remove

Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,                     10

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 lest, when I do it.



  _Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen._



_Mir._                  Alas, now, pray you,                        15

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;                         20

He’s safe for these three hours.



_Fer._                         O most dear mistress,

The sun will set before I shall discharge

What I must strive to do.



_Mir._                  If you’ll sit down,

I’ll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that;

I’ll carry it to the pile.



_Fer._                   No, precious creature;                     25

I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,

Than you should such dishonour undergo,

While I sit lazy by.



_Mir._             It would become me

As well as it does you: and I should do it

With much more ease; for my good will is to it,                     30

And yours it is against.



_Pros._                Poor worm, thou art infected!

This visitation shows it.



_Mir._                  You look wearily.



_Fer._ 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,--                        35

What is your name?



_Mir._           Miranda. --O my father,

I have broke your hest to say so!



_Fer._                          Admired Miranda!

Indeed the top of admiration! worth

What’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady

I have eyed with best regard, and many a time                       40

The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage

Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues

Have I liked several women; never any

With so full soul, but some defect in her

Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed,                        45

And put it to the foil: but you, O you,

So perfect and so peerless, are created

Of every creature’s best!



_Mir._             I do not know

One of my sex; no woman’s face remember,

Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen                      50

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;                                 55

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.



_Fer._             I am, in my condition,

A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;                              60

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,                        65

To make me slave to it; and for your sake

Am I this patient log-man.



_Mir._                   Do you love me?



_Fer._ O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound,

And crown what I profess with kind event,

If I speak true! if hollowly, invert                                70

What best is boded me to mischief! I,

Beyond all limit of what else i’ the world,

Do love, prize, honour you.



_Mir._                    I am a fool

To weep at what I am glad of.



_Pros._                     Fair encounter

Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace                     75

On that which breeds between ’em!



_Fer._                          Wherefore weep you?



_Mir._ 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,                           80

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,                          85

Whether you will or no.



_Fer._                My mistress, dearest;

And I thus humble ever.



_Mir._                My husband, then?



_Fer._ Ay, with a heart as willing

As bondage e’er of freedom: here’s my hand.



_Mir._ And mine, with my heart in’t: and now farewell               90

Till half an hour hence.



_Fer._                 A thousand thousand!



    [_Exeunt Fer. and Mir. severally._



_Pros._ So glad of this as they I cannot be,

Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing

At nothing can be more. I’ll to my book;

For yet, ere supper-time, must I perform                            95

Much business appertaining.    [_Exit._





  Notes: III, 1.



  1: _and_] _but_ Pope.

  2: _sets_] Rowe. _set_ Ff.

  4, 5: _my ... odious_] _my mean task would be As heavy to me as

    ’tis odious_ Pope.

  9: _remove_] _move_ Pope.

  14: _labours_] _labour_ Hanmer.

  15: _Most busy lest_] F1. _Most busy least_ F2 F3 F4. _Least busy_

    Pope. _Most busie-less_ Theobald._ Most busiest_ Holt White conj.

    _Most busy felt_ Staunton. _Most busy still_ Staunton conj.

    _Most busy-blest_ Collier MS. _Most busiliest_ Bullock conj.

  _Most busy lest, when I do_ (_doe_ F1 F2 F3) _it_] _Most busy when

    least I do it_ Brae conj. _Most busiest when idlest_ Spedding

    conj. _Most busy left when idlest_ Edd. conj. See note (XIII).

  at a distance, unseen] Rowe.

  17: _you are_] F1. _thou art_ F2 F3 F4.

  31: _it is_] _is it_ Steevens conj. (ed. 1, 2, and 3). om. Steevens

    (ed. 4) (Farmer conj.).

  34, 35: _I do beseech you,--Chiefly_] _I do beseech you Chiefly_ Ff.

  59: _I therein do_] _I do_ Pope. _Therein_ Steevens.

  62: _wooden_] _wodden_ F1.

  _than to_] _than I would_ Pope.

  72: _what else_] _aught else_ Malone conj. (withdrawn).

  80: _seeks_] _seekd_ F3 F4.

  88: _as_] F1. _so_ F2 F3 F4.

  91: _severally_] Capell.

  93: _withal_] Theobald. _with all_ Ff.





SCENE II. _Another part of the island._



  _Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO._



_Ste._ Tell not me;--when the butt is out, we will drink

water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and board ’em.

Servant-monster, drink to me.



_Trin._ Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They

say there’s but five upon this isle: we are three of them; if        5

th’ other two be brained like us, the state totters.



_Ste._ Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes

are almost set in thy head.



_Trin._ Where should they be set else? he were a brave

monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.                       10



_Ste._ My man-monster hath drowned 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.                                                           15



_Trin._ Your lieutenant, if you list; he’s no standard.



_Ste._ We’ll not run, Monsieur Monster.



_Trin._ Nor go neither; but you’ll lie, like dogs, and

yet say nothing neither.



_Ste._ Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a           20

good moon-calf.



_Cal._ How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe.

I’ll not serve him, he is not valiant.



_Trin._ Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case

to justle a constable. Why, thou debauched fish, thou, was          25

there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as

I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a

fish and half a monster?



_Cal._ Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?



_Trin._ ‘Lord,’ quoth he! That a monster should be                  30

such a natural!



_Cal._ Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee.



_Ste._ Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if you

prove a mutineer,--the next tree! The poor monster’s my

subject, and he shall not suffer indignity.                         35



_Cal._ I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to

hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?



_Ste._ Marry, will I: kneel and repeat it; I will stand,

and so shall Trinculo.



  _Enter ARIEL, invisible._



_Cal._ As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a           40

sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island.



_Ari._ Thou liest.



_Cal._           Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou:

I would my valiant master would destroy thee!

I do not lie.



_Ste._ Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in’s tale, by          45

this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.



_Trin._ Why, I said nothing.



_Ste._ Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.



_Cal._ I say, by sorcery he got this isle;

From me he got it. If thy greatness will                            50

Revenge it on him,--for I know thou darest,

But this thing dare not,--



_Ste._ That’s most certain.



_Cal._ Thou shalt be lord of it, and I’ll serve thee.



_Ste._ How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou                  55

bring me to the party?



_Cal._ Yea, yea, my lord: I’ll yield him thee asleep,

Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.



_Ari._ Thou liest; thou canst not.



_Cal._ What a pied ninny’s this! Thou scurvy patch!                 60

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.



_Ste._ Trinculo, run into no further danger: interrupt the          65

monster one word further, and, by this hand, I’ll turn my

mercy out o’ doors, and make a stock-fish of thee.



_Trin._ Why, what did I? I did nothing. I’ll go farther

off.



_Ste._ Didst thou not say he lied?                                  70



_Ari._ Thou liest.



_Ste._ Do I so? take thou that. [_Beats him._] As you

like this, give me the lie another time.



_Trin._ I did not give the lie. Out o’ your wits, and

hearing too? A pox o’ your bottle! this can sack and                75

drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the devil

take your fingers!



_Cal._ Ha, ha, ha!



_Ste._ Now, forward with your tale. --Prithee, stand farther

off.                                                                80



_Cal._ Beat him enough: after a little time,

I’ll beat him too.



_Ste._ Stand farther. Come, proceed.



_Cal._ Why, as I told thee, ’tis a custom with him

I’ th’ afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him,

Having first seized his books; or with a log                        85

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                         90

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                              95

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.



_Ste._                Is it so brave a lass?



_Cal._ Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant,               100

And bring thee forth brave brood.



_Ste._ Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I

will be king and queen,--save our Graces!--and Trinculo

and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot,

Trinculo?                                                          105



_Trin._ Excellent.



_Ste._ Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but,

while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head.



_Cal._ Within this half hour will he be asleep:

Wilt thou destroy him then?



_Ste._                    Ay, on mine honour.                      110



_Ari._ This will I tell my master.



_Cal._ Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure:

Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch

You taught me but while-ere?



_Ste._ At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any              115

reason. --Come on. Trinculo, let us sing.      [_Sings._



  Flout ’em and scout ’em, and scout ’em and flout ’em;

  Thought is free.



_Cal._ That’s not the tune.



  [_Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe._



_Ste._ What is this same?                                          120



_Trin._ This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture

of Nobody.



_Ste._ If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness:

if thou beest a devil, take’t as thou list.



_Trin._ O, forgive me my sins!                                     125



_Ste._ He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy

upon us!



_Cal._ Art thou afeard?



_Ste._ No, monster, not I.



_Cal._ Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,                  130

Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.

Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments

Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,

That, if I then had waked after long sleep,

Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,                   135

The clouds methought would open, and show riches

Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,

I cried to dream again.



_Ste._ This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I

shall have my music for nothing.                                   140



_Cal._ When Prospero is destroyed.



_Ste._ That shall be by and by: I remember the story.



_Trin._ The sound is going away; let’s follow it, and

after do our work.



_Ste._ Lead, monster; we’ll follow. I would I could see            145

this taborer; he lays it on.



_Trin._ Wilt come? I’ll follow, Stephano.    [_Exeunt._





  Notes: III, 2.



  SCENE II. Another...] Theobald. The other... Pope.

  Enter ...] Enter S. and T. reeling, Caliban following with a bottle.

    Capell. Enter C. S. and T. with a bottle. Johnson.]

  8: _head_] F1. _heart_ F2 F3 F4.

  13, 14: _on. By this light, thou_] _on, by this light thou_ Ff.

    _on, by this light. --Thou_ Capell.

  25: _debauched_] _debosh’d_ Ff.

  37: _to the suit I made to thee_] _the suit I made thee_ Steevens,

    who prints all Caliban’s speeches as verse.

  60: Johnson conjectured that this line was spoken by Stephano.

  68: _farther_] F1 _no further_ F2 F3 F4.

  72: [Beats him.] Rowe.

  84: _there_] _then_ Collier MS.

  89: _nor_] _and_ Pope.

  93: _deck_] _deck’t_ Hanmer.

  96: _I never saw a woman_] _I ne’er saw woman_ Pope.

  99: _great’st does least_] _greatest does the least_ Rowe.

  115, 116:] Printed as verse in Ff.

  115: _any_] F1. _and_ F2 F3 F4.

  117: _scout ’em, and scout ’em_] Pope. _cout ’em and skowt ’em_ Ff.

  125: _sins_] _sin_ F4.

  132: _twangling_] _twanging_ Pope.

  133: _sometime_] F1. _sometimes_ F2 F3 F4.

  137: _that_] om. Pope.

  147: Trin. _Will come? I’ll follow, Stephano_] Trin. _Wilt come?_

    Ste. _I’ll follow._ Capell. Ste. _... Wilt come?_

    Trin. _I’ll follow, Stephano._ Ritson conj.





SCENE III. _Another part of the island._



  _Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO,

  and others._



_Gon._ By’r lakin, I can go no further, sir;

My old bones ache: here’s a maze trod, indeed,

Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience,

I needs must rest me.



_Alon._             Old lord, I cannot blame thee,

Who am myself attach’d with weariness,                               5

To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest.

Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it

No longer for my flatterer: he is drown’d

Whom thus we stray to find; and the sea mocks

Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.                     10



_Ant._ [_Aside to Seb._] I am right glad that he’s so out of hope.

Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose

That you resolved to effect.



_Seb._ [_Aside to Ant._] The next advantage

Will we take throughly.



_Ant._ [_Aside to Seb._] Let it be to-night;

For, now they are oppress’d with travel, they                       15

Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance

As when they are fresh.



_Seb._ [_Aside to Ant._] I say, to-night: no more.



  [_Solemn and strange music._



_Alon._ What harmony is this?--My good friends, hark!



_Gon._ Marvellous sweet music!



  _Enter PROSPERO above, invisible. Enter several strange Shapes,

  bringing in a banquet: they dance about it with gentle actions of

  salutation; and, inviting the King, &c. to eat, they depart._



_Alon._ Give us kind keepers, heavens!--What were these?            20



_Seb._ A living drollery. Now I will believe

That there are unicorns; that in Arabia

There is one tree, the phœnix’ throne; one phœnix

At this hour reigning there.



_Ant._                     I’ll believe both;

And what does else want credit, come to me,                         25

And I’ll be sworn ’tis true: travellers ne’er did lie,

Though fools at home condemn ’em.



_Gon._                          If in Naples

I should report this now, would they believe me?

If I should say, I saw such islanders,--

For, certes, these are people of the island,--                      30

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.



_Pros._              [_Aside_] Honest lord,

Thou hast said well; for some of you there present                  35

Are worse than devils.



_Alon._              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.



_Pros._                    [_Aside_] Praise in departing.



_Fran._ They vanish’d strangely.



_Seb._                         No matter, since                     40

They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.--

Will’t please you taste of what is here?



_Alon._                                Not I.



_Gon._ Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,

Who would believe that there were mountaineers

Dew-lapp’d like bulls, whose throats had hanging at ’em             45

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.



_Alon._        I will stand to, and feed,

Although my last: no matter, since I feel                           50

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._



_Ari._ You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,--

That hath to instrument this lower world

And what is in’t,--the never-surfeited sea                          55

Hath caused 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.    [_Alon., Seb. &c. draw their swords._

                   You fools! I and my fellows                      60

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                   65

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;                              70

Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it,

Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed

The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have

Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,

Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,                        75

They have bereft; and do pronounce by me:

Lingering perdition--worse than any death

Can be at once--shall step by step attend

You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from,--

Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls                  80

Upon your heads,--is nothing but heart-sorrow

And a clear life ensuing.



  _He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, enter the Shapes

  again, and dance, with mocks and mows, and carrying out the

  table._



_Pros._ Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou

Perform’d, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring:

Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated                           85

In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life

And observation strange, my meaner ministers

Their several kinds have done. My high charms work,

And these mine enemies are all knit up

In their distractions: they now are in my power;                    90

And in these fits I leave them, while I visit

Young Ferdinand,--whom they suppose is drown’d,--

And his and mine loved darling.    [_Exit above._



_Gon._ I’ the name of something holy, sir, why stand you

In this strange stare?



_Alon._              O, it is monstrous, monstrous!                 95

Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it;

The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder,

That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced

The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.

Therefore my son i’ th’ ooze is bedded; and                        100

I’ll seek him deeper than e’er plummet sounded,

And with him there lie mudded.    [_Exit._



_Seb._                       But one fiend at a time,

I’ll fight their legions o’er.



_Ant._                       I’ll be thy second.



    [_Exeunt Seb. and Ant._



_Gon._ All three of them are desperate: their great guilt,

Like poison given to work a great time after,                      105

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.



_Adr._                 Follow, I pray you.    [_Exeunt._





  Notes: III, 3.



  2: _ache_] _ake_ F2 F3 F4. _akes_ F1.

  3: _forth-rights_] F2 F3 F4. _fourth rights_ F1.

  8: _flatterer_] F1. _flatterers_ F2 F3 F4.

  17: Prospero above] Malone. Prosper on the top Ff. See note (XIV).

  20: _were_] F1 F2 F3. _are_ F4.

  26: _’tis true_] _to ’t_ Steevens conj.

  _did lie_] _lied_ Hanmer.

  29: _islanders_] F2 F3 F4. _islands_ F1.

  32: _gentle-kind_] Theobald. _gentle, kind_ Ff. _gentle kind_ Rowe.

  36: _muse_] F1 F2 F3. _muse_, F4. _muse_; Capell.

  48: _of five for one_] Ff. _on five for one_ Theobald.

    _of one for five_ Malone, (Thirlby conj.) See note (XV).

  49-51: _I will ... past_] Mason conjectured that these lines formed

    a rhyming couplet.

  53: SCENE IV. Pope.

  54: _instrument_] _instruments_ F4.

  56: _belch up you_] F1 F2 F3. _belch you up_ F4. _belch up_ Theobald.

  60: [... draw their swords] Hanmer.

  65: _dowle_] _down_ Pope.]

  _plume_] Rowe. _plumbe_ F1 F2 F3. _plumb_ F4.

  67: _strengths_] _strength_ F4.

  79: _wraths_] _wrath_ Theobald.

  81: _heart-sorrow_] Edd. _hearts-sorrow_ Ff. _heart’s-sorrow_ Rowe.

    _heart’s sorrow_ Pope.

  82: mocks] mopps Theobald.

  86: _life_] _list_ Johnson conj.

  90: _now_] om. Pope.

  92: _whom_] _who_ Hanmer.

  93: _mine_] _my_ Rowe.

  [Exit above] Theobald.]

  94: _something holy, sir_,] _something, holy Sir_, F4.

  99: _bass_] Johnson. _base_ Ff.

  106: _do_] om. Pope.









ACT IV.





SCENE I. _Before PROSPERO’S cell._



  _Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA._



_Pros._ If I have too austerely punish’d you,

Your compensation makes amends; for I

Have given you here a third of mine own life,

Or that for which I live; who once again

I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations                              5

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,                   10

And make it halt behind her.



_Fer._                     I do believe it

Against an oracle.



_Pros._          Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition

Worthily purchased, take my daughter: but

If thou dost break her virgin-knot before                           15

All sanctimonious ceremonies may

With full and holy rite be minister’d,

No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall

To make this contract grow; but barren hate,

Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew                         20

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.



_Fer._                          As I hope

For quiet days, fair issue and long life,

With such love as ’tis now, the murkiest den,                       25

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 Phœbus’ steeds are founder’d,                30

Or Night kept chain’d below.



_Pros._                    Fairly spoke.

Sit, then, and talk with her; she is thine own.

What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!



  _Enter ARIEL._



_Ari._ What would my potent master? here I am.



_Pros._ Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service               35

Did worthily perform; and I must use you

In such another trick. Go bring the rabble,

O’er whom I give thee power, here to this place:

Incite them to quick motion; for I must

Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple                           40

Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise,

And they expect it from me.



_Ari._                    Presently?



_Pros._ Ay, with a twink.



_Ari._ Before you can say, ‘come,’ and ‘go,’

            And breathe twice, and cry, ‘so, so,’                   45

            Each one, tripping on his toe,

            Will be here with mop and mow.

            Do you love me, master? no?



_Pros._ Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach

Till thou dost hear me call.



_Ari._                     Well, I conceive.    [_Exit._            50



_Pros._ Look thou be true; do not give dalliance

Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw

To the fire i’ the blood: be more abstemious,

Or else, good night your vow!



_Fer._                      I warrant you, sir;

The white cold virgin snow upon my heart                            55

Abates the ardour of my liver.



_Pros._                      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                 60

    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 best betrims,                         65

    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’ the sky,             70

    Whose watery 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:

    Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.                         75



    _Enter CERES._



  _Cer._ Hail, many-colour’d messenger, that ne’er

    Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;

    Who, with thy saffron wings, upon my flowers

    Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers;

    And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown                    80

    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                              85

    On the blest lovers.



  _Cer._             Tell me, heavenly bow,

    If Venus or her son, as thou dost know,

    Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot

    The means that dusky Dis my daughter got,

    Her and her blind boy’s scandal’d company                       90

    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,                       95

    Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid

    Till Hymen’s torch be lighted: but in vain;

    Mars’s hot minion is returned again;

    Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,

    Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows,          100

    And be a boy right out.



  _Cer._                High’st queen of state,

    Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait.



    _Enter JUNO._



  _Juno._ How does my bounteous sister? Go with me

    To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be,

    And honour’d in their issue.         [_They sing:_             105



  _Juno._ Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,

            Long continuance, and increasing,

            Hourly joys be still upon you!

            Juno sings her blessings on you.



  _Cer._  Earth’s increase, foison plenty,                         110

            Barns and garners never empty;

            Vines with clustering bunches growing;

            Plants with goodly burthen bowing;

            Spring come to you at the farthest

            In the very end of harvest!                            115

            Scarcity and want shall shun you;

            Ceres’ blessing so is on you.



_Fer._ This is a most majestic vision, and

Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold

To think these spirits?



_Pros._               Spirits, which by mine art                   120

I have from their confines call’d to enact

My present fancies.



_Fer._            Let me live here ever;

So rare a wonder’d father and a wife

Makes this place Paradise.



    [_Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment._



_Pros._                  Sweet, now, silence!

Juno and Ceres whisper seriously;                                  125

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 windring brooks,

            With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks,

            Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land      130

            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 sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,

            Come hither from the furrow, and be merry:             135

            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._



_Pros._ [_Aside_] I had forgot that foul conspiracy

Of the beast Caliban and his confederates                          140

Against my life: the minute of their plot

Is almost come. [_To the Spirits._] Well done! avoid; no more!



_Fer._ This is strange: your father’s in some passion

That works him strongly.



_Mir._                 Never till this day

Saw I him touch’d with anger so distemper’d.                       145



_Pros._ You do look, my son, in a moved 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:                                150

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,                        155

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:                                160

If you be pleased, retire into my cell,

And there repose: a turn or two I’ll walk,

To still my beating mind.



_Fer._ _Mir._           We wish your peace.    [_Exeunt._



_Pros._ Come with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel: come.



  _Enter ARIEL._



_Ari._ Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?              165



_Pros._                                             Spirit,

We must prepare to meet with Caliban.



_Ari._ Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres,

I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear’d

Lest I might anger thee.



_Pros._ Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?           170



_Ari._ 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;                       175

At which, like unback’d colts, they prick’d their ears,

Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses

As they smelt music: so I charm’d their ears,

That, calf-like, they my lowing follow’d through

Tooth’d briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns,           180

Which enter’d their frail shins: at last I left them

I’ the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,

There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake

O’erstunk their feet.



_Pros._             This was well done, my bird.

Thy shape invisible retain thou still:                             185

The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither,

For stale to catch these thieves.



_Ari._                          I go, I go.    [_Exit._



_Pros._ A devil, a born devil, on whose nature

Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,

Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;                         190

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._



_Cal._ Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not

Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell.                        195



_Ste._ Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless

fairy, has done little better than played the Jack with us.



_Trin._ Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at which my

nose is in great indignation.



_Ste._ So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should               200

take a displeasure against you, look you,--



_Trin._ Thou wert but a lost monster.



_Cal._ 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.             205

All’s hush’d as midnight yet.



_Trin._ Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,--



_Ste._ There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that,

monster, but an infinite loss.



_Trin._ That’s more to me than my wetting: yet this is             210

your harmless fairy, monster.



_Ste._ I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er ears for

my labour.



_Cal._ Prithee, my king, be quiet. See’st thou here,

This is the mouth o’ the cell: no noise, and enter.                215

Do that good mischief which may make this island

Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,

For aye thy foot-licker.



_Ste._ Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody

thoughts.                                                          220



_Trin._ O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano!

look what a wardrobe here is for thee!



_Cal._ Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.



_Trin._ O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery.

O King Stephano!                                                   225



_Ste._ Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I’ll

have that gown.



_Trin._ Thy Grace shall have it.



_Cal._ The dropsy drown this fool! what do you mean

To dote thus on such luggage? Let’s alone,                         230

And do the murder first: if he awake,

From toe to crown he’ll fill our skins with pinches,

Make us strange stuff.



_Ste._ Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not this

my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: now, jerkin,          235

you are like to lose your hair, and prove a bald jerkin.



_Trin._ Do, do: we steal by line and level, an’t like your

Grace.



_Ste._ I thank thee for that jest; here’s a garment for’t:

wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this country.       240

‘Steal by line and level’ is an excellent pass of pate;

there’s another garment for’t.



_Trin._ Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers,

and away with the rest.



_Cal._ I will have none on’t: we shall lose our time,              245

And all be turn’d to barnacles, or to apes

With foreheads villanous low.



_Ste._ Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this

away where my hogshead of wine is, or I’ll turn you out

of my kingdom: go to, carry this.                                  250



_Trin._ And this.



_Ste._ Ay, and this.



  _A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of

  dogs and hounds, and hunt them about, PROSPERO and ARIEL setting

  them on._



_Pros._ Hey, Mountain, hey!



_Ari._ Silver! there it goes, Silver!



_Pros._ Fury, fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark, hark!              255

                        [_Cal., Ste., and Trin. 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

Then pard or cat o’ mountain.



_Ari._                      Hark, they roar!



_Pros._ Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour                   260

Lie 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._





  Notes: IV, 1.



  3: _a third_] _a thread_ Theobald. _the thread_ Williams conj.

  4: _who_] _whom_ Pope.

  7: _test_] F1. _rest_ F2 F3 F4.

  9: _off_] F2 F3 F4. _of_ F1.

  11: _do_] om. Pope.

  13: _gift_] Rowe. _guest_ Ff.

  14: _but_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.

  25: _’tis_] _is_ Capell.

  30: _Phœbus’_] _Phœbus_ F1. _Phœdus_ F2 F3. _Phœduus_ F4.

  34: SCENE II. Pope.

  41: _vanity_] _rarity_ S. Walker conj.

  48: _no_?] _no_. Rowe.

  53: _abstemious_] _abstenious_ F1.

  60: SCENE III. A MASQUE. Pope.]

  _thy_] F1. _the_ F2 F3 F4.

  64: _pioned_] _pionied_ Warburton. _peonied_ Steevens.

  _twilled_] _tulip’d_ Rowe. _tilled_ Capell (Holt conj.). _lilied_

    Steevens.]

  66: _broom-groves_] _brown groves_ Hanmer.

  68: _pole-clipt_] _pale-clipt_ Hanmer.

  72: After this line Ff. have the stage direction, ’_Juno descends._’

  74: _her_] Rowe. _here_ Ff.

  83: _short-grass’d_] F3 F4. _short gras’d_ F1 F2. _short-grass_ Pope.

  96: _bed-right_] _bed-rite_ Singer.

  101: _High’st_] _High_ Pope.

  102: Enter JUNO] om. Ff.

  110: Cer.] Theobald. om. Ff.

  _foison_] F1 _and foison_ F2 F3 F4.

  114: _Spring_] _Rain_ Collier MS.

  119: _charmingly_] _charming lay_ Hanmer. _charming lays_ Warburton.

    _Harmoniously charming_ Steevens conj.

  121: _from their_] F1. _from all their_ F2 F3 F4.

  123: _wife_] F1 (var.). Rowe. _wise_ F1 (var.) F2 F3 F4.

  124: _Makes_] _make_ Pope.

  _sweet, now, silence_] _now, silence, sweet_ Hanmer.

  124: In Ff. the stage direction [Juno, &c. follows line 127.

    Capell made the change.

  128: _windring_] _winding_ Rowe. _wand’ring_ Steevens.

  129: _sedged_] _sedge_ Collier MS.

  136: _holiday_] _holly day_ F1 F2 F3. _holy-day_ F4.

  139: SCENE IV. Pope.

  143: _This is_] _This’_ (for This ’s) S. Walker conj.]

  _strange_] _most strange_ Hanmer.

  145: Ff put a comma after _anger_. Warburton omitted it.

  146: _do_] om. Pope. See note (XVI).

  151: _this_] F1. _their_ F2 F3 F4. _th’ air visions_ Warburton.

  156: _rack_] F3 F4. _racke_ F1 F2. _track_ Hanmer. _wreck_ Dyce

    (Malone conj.).

  163: _your_] F1 F2 F3. _you_ F4.

  164: _I thank thee, Ariel: come._] _I thank you:--Ariel, come._

    Theobald.

  169: _Lest_] F4. _Least_ F1 F2 F3.

  170: _Say again_] _Well, say again_ Capell.

  180: _furzes_] Rowe. _firzes_ Ff.

  181: _shins_] _skins_ Warburton conj. (note, V. 1. p. 87).

  182: _filthy-mantled_] _filthy mantled_ Ff. _filth-ymantled_

    Steevens conj.

  184: _feet_] _fear_ Spedding conj.

  190: _all, all_] _are all_ Malone conj.

  193: _them on_ Rowe. _on them_ Ff.

  Prospero ... invisible. Theobald, Capell. om. Ff.

  194: SCENE V. Pope.

  230: _Let’s alone_] _Let’s along_ Theobald. _Let it alone_ Hanmer.

    _Let ’t alone_ Collier. See note (XVII).

  246: _to apes_] om. _to_ Pope.

  255: Stage direction added by Theobald.

  256: _they_] F1 F3 F4. _thou_ F2.

  261: _Lie_] Rowe. _lies_ Ff.









ACT V.





SCENE I. _Before the cell of Prospero._



  _Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL._



_Pros._ 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?



_Ari._ On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,

You said our work should cease.



_Pros._                       I did say so,                          5

When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,

How fares the king and’s followers?



_Ari._                            Confined 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;                    10

They cannot budge till your release. The king,

His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,

And the remainder mourning over them,

Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly

Him that you term’d, sir, “The good old lord, Gonzalo;”             15

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.



_Pros._            Dost thou think so, spirit?



_Ari._ Mine would, sir, were I human.



_Pros._                             And mine shall.                 20

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 moved than thou art?

Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,             25

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:                        30

My charms I’ll break, their senses I’ll restore,

And they shall be themselves.



_Ari._                      I’ll fetch them, sir.    [_Exit._



_Pros._ Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;

And ye that on the sands with printless foot

Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him                         35

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--                           40

Weak masters though ye be--I have bedimm’d

The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds.

And ’twixt the green sea and the azured vault

Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder

Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak                      45

With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory

Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck’d up

The pine and cedar: graves at my command

Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let ’em forth

By my so potent art. But this rough magic                           50

I here abjure; and, when I have required

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,                               55

And deeper than did ever plummet sound

I’ll drown my book.                    [_Solemn music._



  _Re-enter ARIEL before: then ALONSO, with a frantic gesture,

  attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner,

  attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO: they all enter the circle

  which PROSPERO had made, and there stand charmed; which PROSPERO

  observing, speaks:_



A solemn air, and the best comforter

To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains,

Now useless, boil’d within thy skull! There stand,                  60

For you are spell-stopp’d.

Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,

Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine,

Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace;

And as the morning steals upon the night,                           65

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                        70

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,                       75

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                           80

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:

I will discase me, and myself present                               85

As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit;

Thou shalt ere long be free.



_ARIEL 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.                                 90

    On the bat’s back I do fly

    After summer merrily.

Merrily, merrily shall I live now

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.



_Pros._ Why, that’s my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee;             95

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,                           100

And presently, I prithee.



_Ari._ I drink the air before me, and return

Or ere your pulse twice beat.    [_Exit._



_Gon._ All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement

Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us                        105

Out of this fearful country!



_Pros._                    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                                  110

A hearty welcome.



_Alon._         Whether 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,

The affliction of my mind amends, with which,                      115

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?



_Pros._              First, noble friend,                          120

Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot

Be measured or confined.



_Gon._                 Whether this be

Or be not, I’ll not swear.



_Pros._                  You do yet taste

Some subtilties o’ the isle, that will not let you

Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all!                   125

[_Aside to Seb. and Ant._]

    But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded,

I here could pluck his Highness’ frown upon you,

And justify you traitors: at this time

I will tell no tales.



_Seb._ [_Aside_]    The devil speaks in him.



_Pros._                                    No.

For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother                     130

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.



_Alon._          If thou be’st Prospero,

Give us particulars of thy preservation;                           135

How thou hast met us here, who 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.



_Pros._              I am woe for’t, sir.



_Alon._ Irreparable is the loss; and patience                      140

Says it is past her cure.



_Pros._                 I rather think

You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace

For the like loss I have her sovereign aid,

And rest myself content.



_Alon._                You the like loss!



_Pros._ As great to me as late; and, supportable                   145

To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker

Than you may call to comfort you, for I

Have lost my daughter.



_Alon._              A daughter?

O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,

The king and queen there! that they were, I wish                   150

Myself were mudded in that oozy bed

Where my son lies. When did you lose you daughter?



_Pros._ In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords

At this encounter do so much admire,

That they devour their reason, and scarce think                    155

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                160

Upon this shore, where you were wreck’d, 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;                        165

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                       170

As much as me my dukedom.



  _Here Prospero discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chess._



_Mir._ Sweet lord, you play me false.



_Fer._                              No, my dear’st love,

I would not for the world.



_Mir._ Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,

And I would call it fair play.



_Alon._                      If this prove                         175

A vision of the island, one dear son

Shall I twice lose.



_Seb._            A most high miracle!



_Fer._ Though the seas threaten, they are merciful;

I have cursed them without cause.               [_Kneels._



_Alon._                          Now all the blessings

Of a glad father compass thee about!                               180

Arise, and say how thou camest here.



_Mir._                             O, wonder!

How many goodly creatures are there here!

How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,

That has such people in’t!



_Pros._                  ’Tis new to thee.



_Alon._ What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?             185

Your eld’st acquaintance cannot be three hours:

Is she the goddess that hath sever’d us,

And brought us thus together?



_Fer._                      Sir, she is mortal;

But by immortal Providence she’s mine:

I chose her when I could not ask my father                         190

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

Received a second life; and second father                          195

This lady makes him to me.



_Alon._                  I am hers:

But, O, how oddly will it sound that I

Must ask my child forgiveness!



_Pros._                      There, sir, stop:

Let us not burthen our remembrances with

A heaviness that’s gone.



_Gon._                 I have inly wept,                           200

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.



_Alon._                I say, Amen, Gonzalo!



_Gon._ Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue                 205

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                           210

Where he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedom

In a poor isle, and all of us ourselves

When no man was his own.



_Alon._ [_to Fer. and Mir._] Give me your hands:

Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart

That doth not wish you joy!



_Gon._                    Be it so! Amen!                          215



  _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?                      220



_Boats._ 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.



_Ari._ [_Aside to Pros._] Sir, all this service                    225

Have I done since I went.



_Pros._ [_Aside to Ari._] My tricksy spirit!



_Alon._ These are not natural events; they strengthen

From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither?



_Boats._ If I did think, sir, I were well awake,

I’ld strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,                    230

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 more diversity of sounds, all horrible,

We were awaked; straightway, at liberty;                           235

Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld

Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master

Capering to eye her:--on a trice, so please you,

Even in a dream, were we divided from them,

And were brought moping hither.



_Ari._ [_Aside to Pros._] Was’t well done?                         240



_Pros._ [_Aside to Ari._] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free.



_Alon._ This is as strange a maze as e’er men trod;

And there is in this business more than nature

Was ever conduct of: some oracle

Must rectify our knowledge.



_Pros._                   Sir, my liege,                           245

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,                  250

And think of each thing well.

    [_Aside to Ari._] 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.                           255



  _Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO,

  in their stolen apparel._



_Ste._ Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man

take care for himself; for all is but fortune. --Coragio,

bully-monster, coragio!



_Trin._ If these be true spies which I wear in my head,

here’s a goodly sight.                                             260



_Cal._ O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed!

How fine my master is! I am afraid

He will chastise me.



_Seb._             Ha, ha!

What things are these, my lord Antonio?

Will money buy ’em?



_Ant._            Very like; one of them                           265

Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.



_Pros._ 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,                  270

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                        275

Acknowledge mine.



_Cal._          I shall be pinch’d to death.



_Alon._ Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?



_Seb._ He is drunk now: where had he wine?



_Alon._ And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they

Find this grand liquor that hath gilded ’em?--                     280

How camest thou in this pickle?



_Trin._ I have been in such a pickle, since I saw you

last, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not

fear fly-blowing.



_Seb._ Why, how now, Stephano!                                     285



_Ste._ O, touch me not;--I am not Stephano, but a cramp.



_Pros._ You’ld be king o’ the isle, sirrah?



_Ste._ I should have been a sore one, then.



_Alon._ This is a strange thing as e’er I look’d on.

                                [_Pointing to Caliban._



_Pros._ He is as disproportion’d in his manners                    290

As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell;

Take with you your companions; as you look

To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.



_Cal._ Ay, that I will; and I’ll be wise hereafter,

And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass                       295

Was I, to take this drunkard for a god,

And worship this dull fool!



_Pros._                Go to; away!



_Alon._ Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.



_Seb._ Or stole it, rather.    [_Exeunt Cal., Ste., and Trin._



_Pros._ Sir, I invite your Highness and your train                 300

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                               305

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-beloved solemnized;

And thence retire me to my Milan, where                            310

Every third thought shall be my grave.



_Alon._                              I long

To hear the story of your life, which must

Take the ear strangely.



_Pros._               I’ll deliver all;

And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,

And sail so expeditious, that shall catch

Your royal fleet far off. [_Aside to Ari._] My Ariel, chick,       315

That is thy charge: then to the elements

Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near.

    [_Exeunt._





  Notes: V, 1.



  7: _together_] om. Pope.

  9: _all_] _all your_ Pope.

  10: _line-grove_] _lime-grove_ Rowe.

  11: _your_] F1 F2. _you_ F3 F4.

  15: _sir_] om. Pope.

  16: _run_] _runs_ F1.

  _winter’s_] _winter_ F4.]

  23: F1 F2 put a comma after _sharply_. F3 F4 omit it.

  24: _Passion_] _Passion’d_ Pope.

  26: _’gainst_] Pope. _gainst_ F1 F2. _against_ F3 F4.

  33: SCENE II. Pope.

  37: _green sour_] _green-sward_ Douce conj.

  46: _strong-based_] Rowe. _strong-bass’d_ Ff.

  58: SCENE III. Pope.

  60: _boil’d_] Pope. _boile_ F1 F2. _boil_ F3 F4.

  62: _Holy_] _Noble_ Collier MS.

  63: _show_] _shew_ Ff. _flow_ Collier MS.

  64: _fellowly_] _fellow_ Pope.

  68: _O_] _O my_ Pope. _O thou_ S. Walker conj.

  69: _sir_] _servant_ Collier MS.

  72: _Didst_] F3 F4. _Did_ F1 F2.

  74: _Sebastian. Flesh and blood,_] _Sebastian, flesh and blood._

    Theobald.

  75: _entertain’d_] _entertaine_ F1.

  76: _who_] Rowe. _whom_ Ff.

  82: _lies_] F3 F4. _ly_ F1 F2.

  83: _or_] _e’er_ Collier MS.

  84: Theobald gives as stage direction “Exit Ariel and returns

    immediately.”

  88: _suck_] _lurk_ Theobald.

  90: _couch_] _crowch_ F3 F4.

  [Capell punctuates _There I couch: when owls do cry,_]

  92: _summer_] _sun-set_ Theobald.

  106: _Behold,_] _lo!_ Pope.

  111: _Whether thou be’st_] _Where thou beest_ Ff. _Be’st thou_ Pope.

    _Whe’r thou be’st_ Capell.

  112: _trifle_] _devil_ Collier MS.

  119: _my_] _thy_ Collier MS.

  124: _not_] F3 F4. _nor_ F1 F2.

  132: _fault_] _faults_ F4.

  136: _who_] F2 F3 F4. _whom_ F1.

  145: _and,_] _sir, and_ Capell.

  _supportable_] F1 F2. _insupportable_ F3 F4. _portable_ Steevens.

  148: _my_] _my only_ Hanmer.

  _A daughter_] _Only daughter_ Hanmer. _Daughter_ Capell.

  156: _eyes_] F1. _eye_ F2 F3 F4.

  _their_] _these_ Capell.]

  172: SCENE IV. Pope.

  Here Prospero discovers...] Ff. SCENE opens to the entrance of

    the cell. Here Prospero discovers... Theobald. Cell opens and

    discovers... Capell.]

  172: _dear’st_] _dearest_ Ff.

  179: [Kneels] Theobald.

  191: _advice_] F4. _advise_ F1 F2 F3.

  199, 200: _remembrances with_] _remembrance with_ Pope.

    _remembrances With_ Malone.

  213: _When_] _Where_ Johnson conj.]

  _and_] om. Capell.

  216: SCENE V. Pope.

  _sir, look, sir_] _sir, look_ F3 F4.]

  _is_] _are_ Pope.]

  221: _safely_] _safe_ F3 F4.

  230: _of sleep_] _a-sleep_ Pope.

  234: _more_] Rowe. _mo_ F1 F2. _moe_ F3 F4.

  236: _her_] Theobald (Thirlby conj.). _our_ Ff.

  242-245: Given to Ariel in F2 F3 F4.

  247: _leisure_] F1. _seisure_ F2. _seizure_ F3 F4.

  248: _Which shall be shortly, single_] Pope. _(which shall be

    shortly single)_ Ff.

  253: [Exit Ariel] Capell.

  256: SCENE VI. Pope.

  258: _Coragio_] _corasio_ F1.

  268: _mis-shapen_] _mis-shap’d_ Pope.

  271: _command, without her power._] _command. Without her power,_

    anon. conj.

  _without_] _with all_ Collier MS.

  280: _liquor_] _’lixir_ Theobald.

  282-284: Printed as verse in Ff.

  289: _This is_] F1 F2. _’Tis_ F3 F4.]

  _e’er I_] _I ever_ Hanmer.

  [Pointing to Caliban.] Steevens.]

  299: [Exeunt... Trin.] Capell.

  308: _nuptial_] _nuptiall_ F1. _nuptials_ F2 F3 F4.

  309: See note (XVIII).









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 confined by you,

Or sent to Naples. Let me not,                                       5

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:                                   10

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,                                           15

Unless I be relieved 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.                                    20





  Notes: Epilogue.



  EPILOGUE ... PROSPERO.] advancing, Capell.]

  1: _Now_] _Now, now_ F3 F4.

  3: _now_] _and now_ Pope.

  13: _Now_] _For now_ Pope.









NOTES.





NOTE I.



I. 1. 15. _What cares these roarers._ This grammatical inaccuracy, which

escaped correction in the later folios, probably came from Shakespeare’s

pen. Similar cases occur frequently, especially when the verb precedes

its nominative. For example, _Tempest_, IV. 1. 262, ‘Lies at my mercy

all mine enemies,’ and _Measure for Measure_, II. 1. 22, ‘What knows the

laws, &c.’ We correct it in those passages where the occurrence of a

vulgarism would be likely to annoy the reader. In the mouth of a

Boatswain it can offend no one. We therefore leave it.





NOTE II.



I. 1. 57-59. _Mercy on us!--we split, &c._ It may be doubtful whether

the printer of the first folio intended these broken speeches to express

‘a confused noise within.’ Without question such was the author’s

meaning. Rowe, however, and subsequent editors, printed them as part of

Gonzalo’s speech. Capell was the first editor who gave the true

arrangement.





NOTE III.



I. 2. 173. _princesses._ See Mr Sidney Walker’s _Shakespeare’s

Versification_, p. 243 sqq. ’The plurals of substantives ending in _s_,

in certain instances, in _se_, _ss_, _ce_, and sometimes _ge_, ... are

found without the usual addition of _s_ or _es_, in pronunciation at

least, although in many instances the plural affix is added in printing,

where the metre shows that it is not to be pronounced.’



In this and other instances, we have thought it better to trust to the

ear of the reader for the rhythm than to introduce an innovation in

orthography which might perplex him as to the sense. The form

‘princesses,’ the use of which in Shakespeare’s time was doubted by one

of our correspondents, is found in the _History of King Leir_.



Rowe’s reading ‘princes’ might be defended on the ground that the

sentiment is general, and applicable to royal children of both sexes; or

that Sir Philip Sidney, in the first book of the _Arcadia_, calls Pamela

and Philoclea ‘princes.’





NOTE IV.



I. 2. 298. The metre of this line, as well as of lines 301, 302, is

defective, but as no mode of correction can be regarded as completely

satisfactory we have in accordance with our custom left the lines as

they are printed in the Folio. The defect, indeed, in the metre of line

298 has not been noticed except by Hanmer, who makes a line thus:



  ‘Do so, and after two days I’ll discharge thee.’



Possibly it ought to be printed thus:



              ‘Do so; and

  After two days

  I will discharge thee.’



There is a broken line, also of four syllables, 253 of the same scene,

another of seven, 235.



There is no reason to doubt that the _words_ are as Shakespeare wrote

them, for, although the action of the play terminates in less than four

hours (I. 2. 240 and V. 1. 186), yet Ariel’s ministry is not to end till

the voyage to Naples shall be over. Prospero, too, repeats his promise,

and marks his contentment by further shortening the time of servitude,

‘within two days,’ I. 2. 420. Possibly ‘Invisible’ (301) should have a

line to itself. Words thus occupying a broken line acquire a marked

emphasis.



But the truth is that in dialogue Shakespeare’s language passes so

rapidly from verse to prose and from prose to verse, sometimes even

hovering, as it were, over the confines, being rhythmical rather than

metrical, that all attempts to give regularity to the metre must be made

with diffidence and received with doubt.





NOTE V.



I. 2. 377, 378:



  _Courtsied when you have and kiss’d_

  _The wild waves whist._



This punctuation seems to be supported by what Ferdinand says (391,

392):



  ‘The music crept by me upon the waters,

  Allaying both their fury and my passion, &c.’



At the end of the stanza we have printed _Hark, hark! ... The watch-dogs

bark_ as that part of the burthen which ‘sweet sprites bear.’ The other

part is borne by distant watch-dogs.





NOTE VI.



I. 2. 443. _I fear you have done yourself some wrong._ See this phrase

used in a similar sense, _Measure for Measure_, I. 11. 39.





NOTE VII.



II. 1. 27. _Which, of he or Adrian._ ‘Of’ is found in the same

construction, _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, III. 2. 336,



  ‘Now follow if thou darest to try whose right,

  Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.’





NOTE VIII.



II. 1. 157. _Of its own kind._ There is no doubt, as Dr Guest has shewn,

that ‘it,’ which is the reading of the 1st and 2nd folios, was commonly

used as a genitive in Shakespeare’s time, as it is still in some

provincial dialects. ‘Its,’ however, was coming into use. One instance

occurs in this play, I. 11. 95, ‘in its contrary.’





NOTE IX.



II. 1. 241. _she that from whom._ Mr Spedding writes: ‘The received

emendation is not satisfactory to me. I would rather read, “She

that--From whom? All were sea-swallow’d &c., i.e. from whom should she

have note? The report from Naples will be that all were drowned. We

shall be the only survivors.” The break in the construction seems to me

characteristic of the speaker. But you must read the whole speech to

feel the effect.’





NOTE X.



II. 1. 249-251. All editors except Mr Staunton have printed in italics

(or between inverted commas) only as far as ‘_Naples?_’, but as ‘_keep_’

is printed with a small k in the folios, they seem to sanction the

arrangement given in our text.





NOTE XI.



II. 1. 267. _Ay, sir; where lies that? if ’twere a kibe._ Mr Singer and

Mr Dyce have changed ‘’twere’ to ‘it were’ for the sake of the metre.

But then the first part of the line must be read with a wrong emphasis.

The proper emphasis clearly falls on the first, third, and fifth

syllables, ‘Aý, sir; whére lies thát?’ See Preface.





NOTE XII.



II. 2. 165. Before ‘here; bear my bottle’ Capell inserts a stage

direction [_To Cal._], but it appears from III. 2. 62, that Trinculo was

entrusted with the office of bottle-bearer.





NOTE XIII.



III. 1. 15. _Most busy lest, when I do it._ As none of the proposed

emendations can be regarded as certain, we have left the reading of F1,

though it is manifestly corrupt. The spelling ‘doe’ makes Mr Spedding’s

conjecture ‘idlest’ for ‘I doe it’ more probable.





NOTE XIV.



III. 3. 17. The stage direction, which we have divided into two parts,

is placed all at once in the folios after ‘as when they are fresh’

[Solemne and strange Musicke; and Prosper on the top (invisible:) Enter

... depart].



Pope transferred it to follow Sebastian’s words, ‘I say, to night: no

more.’





NOTE XV.



III. 3. 48. _Each putter out of five for one._ See Beaumont and

Fletcher, _The Noble Gentleman_, I. 1. (Vol. II. p. 261, ed. Moxon):

‘The return will give you five for one.’ MARINE is about to travel.





NOTE XVI.



IV. 1. 146. _You do look, my son, in a moved sort._ Seymour suggests a

transposition: ‘you do, my son, look in a moved sort.’ This line however

can scarcely have come from Shakespeare’s pen. Perhaps the writer who

composed the Masque was allowed to join it, as best he might, to

Shakespeare’s words, which re-commence at ‘Our revels now are ended,’

&c.





NOTE XVII.



IV. 1. 230. _Let’s alone._ See Staunton’s “Shakespeare,” Vol. I. p. 81,

note (b).





NOTE XVIII.



V. 1. 309. _Of these our dear-beloved solemnized._ The Folios have

‘belov’d’; a mode of spelling, which in this case is convenient as

indicating the probable rhythm of the verse. We have written ‘beloved,’

in accordance with the general rule mentioned in the Preface.



‘Solemnized’ occurs in four other verse passages of Shakespeare. It is

three times to be accented ‘sólemnized’ and once (_Love’s Labour’s

Lost_, II. 1. 41) ‘solémnized.’



       *       *       *       *       *

           *       *       *       *

       *       *       *       *       *



Sources:



The editors’ Preface (e-text 23041) discusses the 17th- and

18th-century editions in detail; the newer (19th-century) editions

are simply listed by name. The following editions may appear in the

Notes. All inset text is quoted from the Preface.



  Folios:

  F1 1623; F2 (no date given); F3 1663; F4 1685.

    “The five plays contained in this volume occur in the first Folio

    in the same order, and ... were there printed for the first time.”



  Early editions:

  Rowe 1709

  Pope 1715

    “Pope was the first to indicate the _place_ of each new scene;

    as, for instance, _Tempest_, I. 1. ‘On a ship at sea.’ He also

    subdivided the scenes as given by the Folios and Rowe, making

    a fresh scene whenever a new character entered--an arrangement

    followed by Hanmer, Warburton, and Johnson. For convenience of

    reference to these editions, we have always recorded the

    commencement of Pope’s scenes.”

  Theobald 1733

  Hanmer (“Oxford edition”) 1744

  Warburton 1747

  Johnson 1765

  Capell 1768; _also Capell’s annotated copy of F2_

  Steevens 1773

  Malone 1790

  Reed 1803



  Later editions:

  Singer, Knight, Cornwall, Collier, Phelps, Halliwell, Dyce, Staunton



  Dryden:

    “_The Tempest_ was altered by Dryden and D’Avenant, and published

    as _The Tempest; or the Enchanted Island_, in 1669. We mark the

    emendations derived from it: ‘Dryden’s version.’”





Errors and inconsistencies:



  _Re-enter Boatswain._

    [printed BOATSWAIN in small capitals]

  _Enter _Ariel_._

    [printed “Ariel” in lower case]

  Where my son lies. When did you lose you daughter?

    [Text unchanged: error for “your”?]



  [Text-critical notes]



  I. 2. 135: _to ’t_] om. Steevens (Farmer conj.).

    [Here and elsewhere in the volume, body text has unspaced “to’t”

    while line notes have spaced “to ’t”.]

  I. 2. 202: _o’ the_] _of_ Pope.

    [Text unchanged: body text is capitalized “O’ the”]

  II. 1. 88: _Ay._] I. Ff. _Ay?_ Pope.

    [Text unchanged: apparent error for italic _I._]

  III. 3. 17: Prospero above]

    [Text unchanged: stage direction is after l. 19]



  [Endnotes]



  I: I. 1. 15.  [I. 1. 16]

  V: 377, 378.  [376-377]

  XVI: IV. 1. 146  [IV. 1. 147]