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And strays about to find them.


I will resist such entertainment till
I might call him Mine enemy has more power.

A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

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My language! heavens!

I am the best of them that speak this speech, 430
Were I but where 'tis spoken.

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 I weep: myself am Naples,
Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld
The king my father wreck'd.
Alack! for mercy.
Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke
of Milan

And his brave son being twain.
Pros. Aside.


He draws, and is charmed from moving.
O dear father,

Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle and not fearful.
What! I say:

My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; 470
Who mak'st a show but dar'st not strike, thy

Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward,
For I can here disarm thee with this stick
And make thy weapon drop.

Beseech you, father!
Pros. Hence! hang not on my garments.
Sir, have pity:

I'll be his surety.

Silence! one word more


Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an impostor! hush!
Thou think'st there is 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.
My affections
Are then most humble: I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

Come on; obey:

Thy nerves are in their infancy again
And have no vigour in them.

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, nor this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, 490
Might I but through my prison once a day
A Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.


The Duke of Milan
And his more braver daughter could control thee,
If now 'twere fit to do 't. At the first sight
They have chang'd eyes: delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this! To FERDINAND.
word, good sir;

I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a

Mir. Why speaks my father so ungently?

Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first
That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!

O! if a virgin,

Pros. It works. To FERDINAND. Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! To FERDINAND. Follow me.

To ARIEL. Hark what thou else shalt do me. Mir. Be of comfort. My father's of a better nature, sir, Fer. Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you Which now came from him. The Queen of Naples. Pros. Soft, sir: one word more. Aside. They are both in either's powers: but this swift business

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
Make the prize light. To FERDINAND.

word more I 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.

No, as I am a man.

Mir. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a

If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with 't.


Follow me.
Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come. 461
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.

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SCENE I.-Another Part of the Island.


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 master 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.
Prithee, peace.


Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. 10

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Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant easy next? you should.

Gon. Therefore, my lord,

Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
Alon. I prithee, spare.

Gon. Well, I have done. But yet

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager,

first begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

Ant. The cockerel.

Seb. Done. The wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match!



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.

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. 100
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

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert, day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.
Seb. Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid.

Adr. Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,

Seb. Yet

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not miss it.


Ant. That sort was well fished for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?

Alon. You cram these words into mine ears against

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender and The stomach of my sense. 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 everything advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.
Seb. Of that there's none, or little.



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

I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
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


Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd 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 vouched 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 stained 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.

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I 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.
My Lord Sebastian,
79 The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness

Ant. Widow a pox o' that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido!

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Very foul.

Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,
Ant. He'd sow 't with nettle-seed.
Or docks, or mallows.
Gon. And were the king on 't, what would I do?
Seb. 'Scape being drunk for want of wine.
Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by con-

Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
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. 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.

Save his majesty! 171

Ant. Long live Gonzalo ! Gon. And, do you mark me, sir?Alon. Prithee, 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 laughed 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.

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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,

Will guard your person while you take your

rest, And watch your safety.



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 eyelids sink? I find not Myself dispos'd to sleep.


Nor I: my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,

Worthy Sebastian-O! what might-no more :— And yet methinks I see it in thy face

What thou should'st be. The occasion speaks thee, and

My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.


What! art thou waking? Ant. Do you not hear me speak? Seb.

I do; and surely

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Prithee, 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 alive, 'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd As he that sleeps here swims. Seb. That he's undrown'd.


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 even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

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Can have no note, unless the sun were postThe man i' the moon's too slow-till new-born chins

Be rough and razorable; she, from whom
Weall 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 259
There is some space.
A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, 'How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake!'-Say this were death
That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no

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And look how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater than before. My brother's servants Were then my fellows, now they are my men. Seb. But, for your conscience

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kibe, 'Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not 280 This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he's like, that's dead; Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course: for all the rest, They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk; They'll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour.


Seb. Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent: as thou gott'st Milan, I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st; And I the king shall love thee. Ant.

Draw together; And when I rear my hand, do you the like, To fall it on Gonzalo.

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That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth,
For else his project dies, to keep them living.
Sings in GONZALO's ear.

While you here do snoring lie,
Open-eyed Conspiracy

His time doth take.

If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber and beware:
Awake! awake!

Ant. Then let us both be sudden.

Preserve the king.

Now, good angels They wake. 310

Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you drawn?

Wherefore this ghastly looking?

What's the matter?
Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions: did it not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.
I heard nothing.

Alon. Ant. 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 cried; 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 further search

For my poor son.

Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island.


Lead away. Exeunt. 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.



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 mei' the mire, Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but For every trifle are they set upon me: Sometime like apes, that mow and chatter at me And after bite me, then like hedge-hogs which 10 Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way and mount Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues Do hiss me into madness. Lo, now! lo! Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat; Perchance he will not mind me.


Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brew

ing; 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 fish-like 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. Legged 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.


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But none of us car'd for Kate;

For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!'

She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch,


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. defend me.


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

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 camest 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 mooncalf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano! two Neapolitans 'scaped.


Ste. Prithee, 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:

Yet a tailor might scratch her where-e'er she did itch; I will kneel to him. Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.

This is 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 Ind? 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

Cal. Do not torment me, prithee; 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.

Ste. How didst thou 'scape? How camest thou hither? swear by this bottle how thou camest hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack which the sailors heaved overboard, 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 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? 139 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.

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!

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