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, 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. Pr'ythee, peace. Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike. Gon. Sir, Seb. One-tell. Ant. He could not miss it. Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance. Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered. Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life. Seb. Of that there's none, or little. Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny. Seb. With an eye of green in't. Ant. He misses not much. Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is, (which is, indeed, almost beyond credit,)— Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are. Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and glosses; being rather new dyed, than stain'd with salt water. Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, He lies? Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis. Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen. Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. widow in? Widow Dido! How came that Gon. [To ADR.] Ay. Ant. Why, in good time. Gon. [To ALON.] Sir, we were talking, that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. Ant. O! widow Dido; ay, widow Dido. Gon. Is not, Sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. Ant. That sort was well fish'd for. Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? I ne'er again shall see her. O thou, mine heir Alon. Pr'ythee, peace. Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd 'otherBy all of us; and the fair soul herself [wise Weigh'd, between loathness and obedience, at Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have [your son, More widows in them, of this business' making, Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault's Your own. Alon. So is the dearest of the loss. Gon. My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, And time to speak it in; you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster. Seb. Ant. And most chirurgeonly. Very well. Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good Sir, When you are cloudy. Seb. Ant. Foul weather! Very foul. And women too, but innocent and pure; 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, 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. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, Sir, To excel the golden age. Seb. Ant. Long live Gonzalo ! Gon. 'Save his majesty! And, do you mark me, Sir?— Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing. Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at. Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. Ant. What a blow was there given! 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. 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? Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. [All sleep but ALON. SEB. and ANT. Alon. What! all so soon asleep? I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I They are inclin'd to do so. [find Seb. Please you, Sir, Doth it not, then, our eyelids sink? I find not Ant. I do; and surely, It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep. 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 Seb. Do so: to ebb Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, Pr'ythee, say on: The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim Ant. When he is earth'd) hath here almost persuaded As he that sleeps here, swims. That he's undrown'd. Ani. I have no hope O, out of that no hope, Who's the next heir of Naples? Then, tell me, Claribel. Seb. Ant. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post, (The man i' the moon's too slow,) till new-born chins Be rough and razorable; she, from whom We 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? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis; So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is some space. Ant. As this Gonzalo; I myself could make Seb. I remember, True: You did supplant your brother Prospero. And look how well my garments sit upon me; Ant. Ay, Sir; where lies that? if it were a kibe, If he were that which now he's like, that's dead, Draw together: O, but one word. [They converse apart. 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 thee living. [Sings in GONZALO's ear. While you here do snoring lie, His time doth take. If of life you keep a care, Shake off slumber, and beware: Ant. Then let us both be sudden. [They wake. Alon. I heard nothing. Ani. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear, To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions. Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo? Gon. Upon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me. I shak'd you, Sir, and cry'd; as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn:-there was a noise, That's verity. '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 farFor my poor son. [ther search Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island. Alon. Lead away. [Exit with the others. Ari. Prospero, my lord, shall know what I have done: So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. SCENE II.-Another part of the Island. Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard. [Exit. Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire, Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but Enter TRINCULO. Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' the wind: yond' same black cloud, yond' huge one, looks like a foul bombard 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 fishlike smell; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I in England now, (as once I was,) and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man: any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a 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 thunder-bolt. [Thunder.] Alas! the storm is come again: my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past. Ste. Enter STEPHANO, singing; a bottle in his hand. This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I, Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, For she had a tongue with a tang, She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch, This is a scurvy tune too; but here's my comfort. Cal. Do not torment me: O! Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not '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 nostrils. 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 get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather. THE TEMPEST. Cal. Do not torment me, pr'ythee: I'll bring my wood home faster. Stc. He's in his fit now, and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him: he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly. Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee. Ste. Come on your ways: open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat. Open your mouth: this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend; open your chaps again. Trin. I should know that voice: it should be- Ste. Four legs, and two voices,- Sie. Doth thy other mouth call me? Trin. Stephano!-if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo:-be not afeard,-thy good friend Trinculo. Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth. I'll pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed! How cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos? Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunderstroke. But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now, thou art not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. ing, Stephano? 'scaped? And art thou liv- Ste. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about: my stomach Ste. How didst thou 'scape? How cam'st thou hither? swear by this bottle, how thou cam'st hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved over-board, by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast a-shore. Cal. I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy true subject; for the liquor is not earthly. Ste. Here: swear, then, how thou escapedst. Trin. Swam ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. Ste. Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. Trin. O Stephano! hast any more of this? Ste. The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! how does thine ague? Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven? Ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man in the moon, when time was. [ACT IIL Cal. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee: my mistress showed 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 man i' the moon!-a most poor credulous monster!--Well drawn, monster, in good sooth. Cal. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' the island; and I will kiss thy foot. I pr'ythee, be my god. Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster: when his god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle. Cal. I'll kiss thy foot: I'll swear myself thy subject. Ste. Come on, then; down, and swear. Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard! Cal. I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs with me? Ste. I pr'ythee now, lead the way, without any more talking.-Trinculo, the king and all our company else being drowned, we will inherit here.— [To CAL.] Here; bear my bottle.-Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again. Cal. Farewell, master; farewell, farewell. Trin. A howling monster; a drunken monster. At requiring, Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish; Has a new master-Get a new man. Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom! Ste. O brave monster! lead the way. [Exeunt. Fer. There be some sports are painful, and their Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness |