With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark;
Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had 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,
Did us but loving wrong.
Mira.

Alack! what trouble
O! a cherubim

Ari.

Pro.
My brave spirit
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coll
Would not infect his reason?
Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdi-
nand,

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.

Was I then to you!
Pro.
Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst Pro.
smile,

Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt;
Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me
An undergoing stomach, to bear up
Against what should ensue.
Mira

How came we ashore?
Pro. By Providence divine.
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,

Out of his charity, (who being then appointed
Master of this design,) did give us; with
Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessa ies,
Which since have steaded much; so, of his gen-
tleness,

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,
From my own library, with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.
Mira.
"Would I might

But ever see that man!

Pro.
Now I arise:-
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in tu 'sland we arrived; and here
Have I, thy choolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princes can, that have more time
Yor vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.
Mira. Heavens thank you for 't! and now, I
pray you, sir,

(For still 'tis beating in my mind,) your reason
For raising this sea-storm?

Pro.
Know thus far forth.-
By accident most strange, bountiful fortune,
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore: and by my prescience
I find my zenith doth depend upon
A most auspicious star; whose influence
If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes
Will ever after droop.-Here cease more
tions.

But was not this nigh shore?"

Ari.

Why, that 'e my spirit!
Close by, my master.

Pro. 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 bad'st me,
In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle:
The king's son have I landed by himself;
Whom left cooling of the air with sighs,
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot.

Pro.

Of the king's ship,

The mariners, say, how thou hast disposed,
And all the rest o' the fleet?

Ari.
Safely in harbour
Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'st me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid:
The mariners all under hatches stow'd;
Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd

labour,

Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work:
What is the time o' the day?
Ari.
Past the mid season.
Pro. At least two glasses: The time 'twixt
six and now,

Must by us both be spent most preciously.
Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou must give
me pains,

Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
ques-Which is not yet perform'd me.
Pro.
How now ? moody?

Thou art in n'd to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way;-I know thou canst not
choose.-
[Miranda sleeps.
Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;
Approach, my Ariel: come.

What is 't thou canst demand?
Ari.
My liberty.
Pro. Before the time be out? no more.

Ari.

I pray thee
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge or grumbling: thou did'st
promise

To bate me a full year.
Pro.
Dost thon forget
From what a torment I did free thee?
Ari.

Pro. Thou dost; and think'st

No.

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,
When it is bak'd with frost.
Ari.

I do not, sir.
Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast tho
forgot

The foul witch, Sycorax,who, with age, and envy
Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her
Ari. No, sir.
Pro.
Thou hast where was she born?
speak; tell me.
Ari Sir, in Argier.
Pro.
O, was she so? I must,
Once in a month, recount what thon hast been,
Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch, Sy.

corax,

For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know'st was banish'd; for one thing she
did,

They would not take her life: Is not this true?
Ari. Ay, sir.

Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought
with child,

With raven's feather from unwholesome fen,
Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye,
And blister you all o'er!

Pro. For this, be sure, to-night, thou shalt
have cramps,

Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more
stinging
Than bees that made them.
Cal.
I must eat my dinner.
island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest
first,

And here was left by the sailors: Thon, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, was then her servant:
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd comniands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,This
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd, thou did'st painfully remain

A dozen years: within which space she died,
And left thee there; where thou did'st vent thy
groans,

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.
Pro. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban,
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
What torment I did find thee in thy groans
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts
Of ever-angry bears: it was a torment
To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not again undo; it was mine art,
When I arriv'd, and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.

Ari.
I thank thee, master.
Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an
oak,

And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till
Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.
Afi.

Pardon, master:

I will be correspondent to command,
And do my spriting gently.
Pro.
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?
Pro, Go make thyself like to a nymph o' the
sea;

Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible
To every eyeball else. Go, take this shape,
And hither come in't: hence, with diligence.
[Erit Ariel.
Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;
Awake!

Mira. The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

Pro.

Shake it off: come on; We'll visit Caliban, iny siave, who never

Yields us kind answer.
Mira.

"Tis a villain, sir,

I do not love to look on.
Pro.

But, as 'tis,
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood; and serves in offices
That profit us. What ho! slave! Caliban!
Thou earth, thou! speak.

Cal. [within.] There 's wood enough within.
Pro. Come forth, I say, there's other business
for thee;

Come forth, 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.
Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil
himself

Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Enter Caliban.

Cal As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd

Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st inuch of me;
would'st give me

Water with berries in't; and teach me how
To name the bigger light, and how the less,
That burn by day and night: and then I lov
thee,

And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and
fertile;

Cursed be I that did so!-All the charms
Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!,
For I am all the subject 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 of the island.
Pro.
Thou most lying slave;
Whom stripes may move, not kindness: I have
used thee,

Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodg'd
thee

In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violaté
The honour of my child.

Cal. Oho! O ho!-Would, it had been done!
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.

Pro.

Abhorred slave!
Which any print of goodness will not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee
each hour

One thing or other; when thou didst not, savage,
Know thy own meaning, but would'st gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known: But thy
vile race,

Though thou didst learn, had that in't which
good natures

Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confin'd into this rock,

Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison.

Cal. You taught me language; and my profit

Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
[Burden, ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell.
Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd
father:-

?

This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes:-I hear it now above me.
Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And say, what thou seest yond'.
Mira.
What is't? a spirit
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form :-but 'tis a spirit.
Pro. 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 might'st
call him

A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,
And strays about to find them.
Mira.

I might call him
A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.
Pro.

It goes on, I see, [Aside.
As my soul prompts it :-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll
free thee
Within two days for this.

Fer.

Most sare, 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,
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
If you be maid, or no?
Mira.

But, certainly a maid.
Fer.

No wonder, sir!

Fer.

And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you queen of Naples.

The
Pro.

Soft, sir; one word more.--They are both in either's powers: but this swift

business

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

Aside Make the prize light.-One word more; l'charge thee,

That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
The name thou ow'st not; and hast put thyself
Upon this island, as a spy to win it

From me, the lord on't.

Fer.

No, as I am a man. Mira. 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.
Pro.
Follow me.- To Ferd.
Speak not you for him; he's a traitor.-Come.
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together;
Sea-water shalt thou drink, thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and
husks,

Wherein the acorn cradled: Follow.
Fer.

No;

I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy has more power. [He draws
Mira.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful.
Pro.

What, I say,

My foot my tutor!-Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy
conscience

Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward;
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.
Mira.
'Beseech, you father!
Pro. Hence: hang not on my garments.
Mira.
Sir, have pity;

I'll be his surety.
Pro.

Silence! one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an impostor? hush!
Thou think'st, there are no more such shapes
as he,

Having seen but him and Caliban: Foolish
wench!

To the most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels.
Mira.
My affections
Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.
Pro.

Come on; obey: [To Fer.
My language! heavens!- Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.
Fer.

I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken.
Pro.
How! the best?
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, 1 weep: myself am Naples:
Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld
The king my father wreck'd.
Mira.
Alack! for mercy!
Fer. Yes, 'faith, and all his lords; the duke of
Milan,
And his brave son, being twain.
Pro.
The duke of Milan,
And his more braver daughter, could control thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't-At the first sight

[Aside.

So they are:
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, or this man's
threats,

To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid all corners else o' the earth,
Let liberty make use of: space enough
Have I in such a prison.
Pro.
It works:-Come on,-
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!-Follow me.-
To Fer and Mir.
Hark, what thou else shalt do me [To Ariel,
Mira.
Be of comfort;
My father is of a better nature, sir,

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'a fair daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis

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

a

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

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 Eneas 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 Tanis.
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.

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

Ant. Why, in good time,

Gon. Sir, we were talking that our garmenta 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 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.

Ant. The cockrel.

Seb. Done: The wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match.

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,-1 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 swoln that met him: his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis
bow'd,

As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt
He came alive to land.
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;

Very foul.

Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.
Seb.
Why
Doth it not then our eyelids sink 7 I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.

Ánt.
Nor 1; my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;

Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,-They dropp'd, as by a thunder stroke. What
Ant. He'd sow it with nettle seed.
Seb.

might

more;

Or docks or mallows. Worthy Sebastian 7-0, what might 7-No

Gon. And were the king of it, What would I do?

And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face, Seb. 'Scape getting drunk, for want of wine.What that should'st be: the occasion speaks Gon. ' the commonwealth I would by con

traries

Execute all things: for no kind of traffick
Would I admit ; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none:
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil:
No occupation; all men idle, all;

And women too; but innocent and pure:
No sovereignty:-

Seb.

And yet he would he 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 not have; but nature should bring
forth,

Of its own kind, all foizén, 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.

'Save his majesty!

thee; and

If you but knew how you the purpose cherish, Whiles thus you mock it how, in stripping it, Ant. Long live Gonzalo! You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, Gon. And, do you mark me, sir 7-Most often do so near the bottom run, Alon. Pr'y thee, no more: thou dost talk no- By their own fear, or sloth. thing 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 langh at nothing. Ant. "Twas you we laugh'd at.

and

Gon. Who in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you; so you may continue, 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 Musick. 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 sleep, 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

Seb.

'Pr'ythee, say on: The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim 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 (For he's a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade) the king, his son's alve; 'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd, As he that sleeps here, swims.

Seb.
That he's undrown'd.

Ant.

I have no hope

O, out of that no hope,

What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is
Another way so high a hope, that ever
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
But doubts discovery there. Will you grant,
with me,
That Ferdinand is drown'd?
Seb.
Ant.
Who's the next heir of Naples?

Seb.

He's gone.
Then tell me,
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