Whom I 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 dispos'd, 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 stowed;
Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd la-
bour,

I have left asleep and for the rest o' the fleet,
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again;
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,2
Bound sadly home for Naples;

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd,
And his great person perish.

Pro.

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 dost give
me pains,

Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me.

Pro.

What is't thou canst demand?
Ari.

How now? moody?

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 grumblings: thou didst pro-
mise

To bate me a full year.
Pro.

Dost thou 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.

I do not, sir.

Ari.
Pro. 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.

Pro.

Thou hast: where was she born?
speak; tell me.
Ari. Sir, in Argier.3
Pro.
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,

Thou know'st, was banished; 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,

And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant:
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate

(1) Bermudas.

To act her earthly and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
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,

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 honoured with
A human shape.

(2) Wave. (3) Algiers. [

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.
Ari.
Pardon, master:
will be correspondent to command,
And do my spiriting gently.

I

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 a nymph o' the sea;
Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible
To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape,
And hither come in't: hence, with diligence.

[Exit Ariel.

I do not love to look on.
Pro.
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!

F

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 on't
Is, I know how to curse: the red plague ride you,
For learning me your language!
Pro.

Hag-seed, hence!

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.

It goes on,

I might call him

A thing divine; for nothing natural
Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou were best, I ever saw so noble.
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,
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

Cal. No, 'pray thee!

I must obey: his art is of such power,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.

Pro.

[Aside.

So, slave; hence!

[Exit Caliban.

Re-enter Ariel, invisible, playing and singing;
Ferdinand following him.

ARIEL'S SONG.

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:

Pro.
[Aside.
As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll
free thee
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,
Which I do last pronounce, is, you wonder!
If you be maid, or no?

Mira.

But, certainly a maid.
Fer.

No wonder, sir;

My language? heavens!

How! the best?

I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken.

Pro.

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

(1) Fairies.

(2) Destroy.

(3) Still, silent.

(4) Owns.

Seb. Ha, ha, ha!

Ant. So, you've pay'd.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,

Ant. He could not miss it.

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. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir

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

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.

Fran.

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

Gon. How lush2 and lusty the grass looks! how To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd green!

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.

Seb. With an eyes of green in't.

Ant. He misses not much.

Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.

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;

Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is, indeed, al-That would not bless our Europe with your daughmost 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 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 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 grac'd before with such paragon to their queen.

a

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 study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Adr. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Seb. He hath rais'd 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. Ay?

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. Q, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.

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 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.
Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.
Seb.

Ant.

Very well.

Foul weather?
Very foul.
Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,-
Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.
Seb.
Or docks, or mallows.
Gon. And were the king of it, What would I do?
Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
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; no use of service,
Of riches or of poverty; no contracts,
Successions; 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 be king on't.
Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth for-

Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first gets the beginning.

day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.4 Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.

Gon. All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,

(1) Temperature. (2) Rank. (3) Shade of colour.

(4) Degree or quality. (5) The rack.

Seb.

Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Whiles thou art waking.
Of its own kind, all foizon,' all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?
Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.

Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores.

Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do,

Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, Trebles thee o'er.
To excel the golden age.
Seb.

'Save his majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo!
Gon.

Seb.
Well; I am standing water.
Ant. I'll teach you how to flow.
Seb.

Do so: to ebb,

And, do you mark me, sir?-Hereditary sloth instructs me. Ant. Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: Thou dost talk no0, thing to me. If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always Most often do so near the bottom run, use to laugh at nothing. By their own fear, or sloth. Seb.

Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you; so you may continue, and Taugh 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. m. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes ould, 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:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.

We two, my lord,

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,)
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,
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 doubts discovery there.

me,

That Ferdinand is drown'd?
Seb.
Ant.

Will you grant, with

He's gone.

Then, tell me,

Claribel.

Who's the next heir of Naples ?
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 were all sea-swallowed, though some cast again;
And, by that, destin'd 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. 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! Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. Seb. Why Doth it not then our eye-lids sink? I find not Myself dispos'd to sleep. Ant. Nor I; my spirits are nimble. Ant. A space whose every cubit They fell together all, as by consent; Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Measure us back to Naples ?-Keep in Tunis, Worthy Sebastian?-O, what might?-No more:And let Sebastian wake!-Say, this were death And yet methinks, I see it in thy face, That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee; and

worse

Than now they are: there be, that can rule Na-
ples,

As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate
As amply, and unnecessarily,

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
Tender your own good fortune?
Seb.

I remember,

(2) A bird of the jack-daw kind.