Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.
Pro.
Thou shalt be as free
As mountain winds: but then exactly do
All points of my command.

[Exeunt.

Ari.

To the syllable. Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him.

ACT II.

SCENE I Another Part of the Island. Enter Alonzo, 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 wo
Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
The masters of some merchant, and the
chant,

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seb. What if he had said, widower Æneas too? good lord, how you take it!

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

Have just our theme of wo: 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.

'P'ythee, peace. Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so. Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit by and by it will strike. Gon. Sir,

Seb. One-Tell.

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Seb. 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. Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's Gon. Ay? offer'd,

Comes to the entertainer

Seb.

A dollar.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you purposed.

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 pr'ythee spare.

Gon. Well, 1 have done: but yet

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Why, in good time.

Gon. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen.

Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.
Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.
Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the
first day I wore it ? I mean, in a sort.
Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.
Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's mar

Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a riage? good wager, first begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

Alon. You cram these words into mine ears,
against

The stomach of my sense: 'Would, I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,

Adr. Though this island seem to be a desert, I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir

Seb. Ha, ha, ha!

Ant. So, you've pay'd.

Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible, Fran
Seb. Yet,

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not miss it.

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

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.

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

Sir, he may live;
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swolu 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: 1 not doubt
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,

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks? But rather lose her to an African;

how green 7

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, }

Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.
'Pr'ythee, peace.

Alon.
Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd
otherwise

By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weigh'd, between loathness and obedience, at
Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have
lost your son,

there is no other shelter hereabout; Misery ac-I hope now, thou art not drowned. Is the stormh quaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will over-blown? I hid me under the dead moonhere shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past. caif's gaberdine, for fear of the storm: And art Enter Stephano, singing; a Bottle in his Hand. thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Nea politans 'scap'd!

Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea,

Here shall I die ashore ;

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral:

Well, here's my comfort.

[Drinks.

Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang. This a scurvy tune too: But here's my comfort. [Drinks.

Cal. Do not torment me: O!

Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not 'scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever went on four legs, cannot make him give ground: and it shall be said so again, whilst 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 1 take it, an ague: Where the devil should he learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be but for that: If I can recover him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather. Cal. Do not torment me, pr'ythee; I'll bring my wood home faster.

Ste. He's in his fit now; and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle; if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit; if I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him: he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly.

Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt
Anon, I know it by thy trembling;
Now Prosper works upon thee.

Ste. Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat; open your mouth: this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend: open your chaps again.

Trin. I should know that voice: it should be -But he is drowned; and these are devils: O! defend me!

Ste. Four legs, and two voices; a most delicate monster! His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches, and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague: Come, Amen! I will pour some in thy other mouth.

Trin. Stephano,

Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy! mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: 1 will leave him; I have no long spoon.

Trin. Stephano!-If thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for 1 am Trinculo;-be not afeard;-thy good friend Trinculo.

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

Cal. These be fine things, an if they be not
sprites.

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

Ste. How did'st thou 'scape? How cam'st thou hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack, which hither7 swear by this bottle, how thou cam'st 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.

subject; for the liquor is not earthly.
Cal. I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy true

Ste. Here; swear then how thou escap'dst. Trin. Swam a-shore, man, like a duck; I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn.

Ste. Here, kiss the book: Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this? Ste. The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a rock by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf? how does thine ague? Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven? Ste. Out the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man in the moon, when time was.

Cal. I have seen thee in her, and 1 do adore thee; My mistress showed me thee, and thy dog, and bush.

Ste. Come, swear to that: kiss the book: 1 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 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. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster: A most scurvy monster! could find in my heart to beat him, Ste. Come, kiss.

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

Cal. I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck
thee berries:

I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wondrous man.

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

Cal. I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;

And I with my long nails will dig thee pig.

Ste. I pr'ythee now, lead the way, without Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth; I'll any more talking.-Trinculo, the king and all pull thee by the lesser legs; if any be Trinculo's our company else being drowned, we will inlegs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo, herit here.-Here; bear my bottle. Fellow Indeed: How cam'st thou to be the siege of this Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again. moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos? Cal. Farewell, master; farewell, farewell. Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunder[Sings drunkenly, stroke-But art thou not drowned, Stephano?! Trin. A howling monster: a drunken monster.

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 'tis odious; but
The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's
dead,

And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed;
And he's composed of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,
Upon a sore injunction: My sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work; and says, such
baseness

I do not know

Of every creature's best.
Mira.
One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seep
More that I may call meu, than you, good friend,
And my dear father: how features are abroad,"
I am skill-less of; but, by my modesty,
(The jewel in my dower,) I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you;
Nor can imagination form a shape,
Besides yourself, to like of: but I prattle
Something too wildly, and my father's precepts
I therein do forget.

Fer.

I am, in my condition,
A prince, Miranda: I do think, a king;
(I would, not so!) and would no more endure
This wooden slavery, than to suffer
The flesh-fly blow my mouth.-Hear my soul
speak;-

The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service; there resides,
To make me slave to it; and, for your sake,
Am I this patient log-man!
Mira
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
What best is boded me, to mischief! 1,
Beyond all limit of what else i' the world,
Do love, prize, honour you.
Mira.

I am a fool,
To weep at what I am glad of.

Had ne'er like executor. I forget;
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my Pro.
labours;

Most busy-less when I do it.

Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a distance.
Mira.
Alas, now, pray you,
Work not so hard: I would, the light'ning had
Burnt up those logs, that you are enjoined to
pile!

Pray, set it down, and rest you: when this burns,
Twill weep for having wearied you: my father
Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;
He's safe for these three hours.

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

Mira.

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:
I'd rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.

Mira.
It would become me
As well as it does you: and I should do it
With much more ease, for my good will is to it,
And your's it is against.
Pro.

Poor worm! thou art infected;
This visitation shews it.
Mira.
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,)
What is your name?
Mira.

Miranda :-O my father,
have broken your hest to say so!
Fer.
Admir'd Miranda!
Indeed, the top of admiration; worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues
Have I liked several women; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd,
And put it to the foil: But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerless, are created

Fair encounter
Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace
On that which breeds between them!
Fer.
Wherefore weep you?
Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer
What I desire to give; and much less take,
What I shall die to want: But this is trifling;
And all the more it seeks to hide itself,
The bigger bulk it shews. Hence, bashful cun-
ning!

And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!
I am your wife, if you will marry me;
If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow
You may deny me; but I'll be your servant,
Whether you will or no.

Fer.

And I thus humble ever.
Mira.

My mistress, dearest,

My husband then?

Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing

As bondage e'er of freedom; here's my hand.
Mira. And mine, with my heart in't: And
now farewell,
Till half an hour hence.
Fer.

A thousand! thousand!
[Exeunt Fer. and Mir.
Pro. So glad of this as they, I cannot be,
Who are surprised with all; but my rejoicing
At nothing can be more. I'll to my book:
For yet, ere supper time, must I perform
Much business appertaining.

[Exit.