Cal. That's not the tune. [Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe. Ste. What is this same? Trin. This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture of No-body. Ste. If thon beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness; if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list. Trin. O, forgive me my sins! 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, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, I cry'd to dream again. Ste. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing. 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 this taborer: he lays it on. Trin. Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano. [Exeunt. 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 pa tience, I needs must rest me. Alon. Old lord, I cannot blame thee, Who am myself attach'd with weariness, To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest. [Aside to Sebastian. For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they As when they are fresh. Seb. I say, to-night: no more. Solemn and strange music; and 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. * Our lady. Alon. What harmony is this? my good friends, hark! Gon. Marvellous sweet musick! Alon. Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these? Seb. A living drollery*: Now I will believe, That there are unicorns; that in Arabia There is one tree, the phoenix' throne; one phoenix Ant. And I'll be sworn 'tis true: Travellers ne'er did lie, Gon. If in Naples I should report this now, would they believe me? If I should say I saw such islanders (For, certest, these are people of the island), Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note, Their manners are more gentle-kind, than of Our human generation you shall find Many, nay, almost any. Pro. Honest lord, Thou hast said well; for some of you there present, Are worse than devils. Alon. [Aside. I cannot too much muset, Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing (Although they want the use of tongue), a kind Of excellent dumb discourse. 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, • Show. VOL. I. + Certainly. I Wonder. D Who would believe that there were mountaineers, Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at them Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men, Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find, Each putter-out on five for one, will bring us Alon. I will stand to, and feed, Although my last: no matter, since I feel 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 Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well One dowie* that's in my plume; my fellow-ministers • Down. three The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have You, and your ways; whose wrath to guard you from (Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads), is nothing, but heart's sorrow, And a clear life ensuing. He vanishes in thunder: then, to soft music, enter the Shapes again, and dunce with mops and mowes and carry out the table. Pro. [Aside] Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring: In their distractions: they now are in my power; Young Ferdinand (whom they suppose is drown'd), And his and my loved darling. [Exit Prospero from above. Gon. I'the name of something holy, sir, why stand you In this strange stare? Alon. O, it is monstrous! monstrous! Methought, the billows spoke, and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded; and * Pure, blameless. |