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And strays about to find them.
A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

I will resist such entertainment till
I might call him Mine enemy has more power.
He draws, and is charmed from moving.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll He's gentle and not fearful.
free thee
What! I say:


Aside. It goes on, I see,



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

Within two days for this.

Most sure, the goddess
On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my

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?

No wonder, sir;

But certainly a maid.

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.


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!


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


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.

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.

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


Hark what thou else shalt do me. Mir. Be of comfort. My father's of a better nature, sir, O! if a virgin, 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.


Thou shalt be as free
As mountain winds; but then exactly do
All points of my command.

Pros. Come, follow.



No, as I am a man. Mir. 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.

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

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.



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.

Pros. To FERDINAND. Come on; obey:
Thy nerves are in their infancy again
And have no vigour in them.


To the syllable. Speak not for him. Exeunt.


SCENE I.-Another Part of the Island. Enter ALONSO, 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 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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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.


Ant. The ground indeed is tawny.

Seb. With an eye of green in 't.

Ant. He misses not much.

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.

Ant. That sort was well fished for.

Adr. Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,

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

Seb. Yet

Alon. You cram these words into mine ears against


Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not miss it.


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.

Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit

Seb. What if he had said widower Aeneas 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?


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.

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


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!


Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke

To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,

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.


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.

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


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

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?

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And time to speak it in; you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster.


Very well.


Ant. And most chirurgeonly.
Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.


Foul weather?


Very foul. Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,Ant. He'd sow 't with nettle-seed. Seb. 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 contraries


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They are inclin'd to do so.
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. 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 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,

Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find

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?
I do; and surely
It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.


Noble Sebastian,

Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking.

Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly: 220 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 Trebles thee o'er.

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

Do so to ebb

Hereditary sloth instructs me.


Ant. If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, Most often do so near the bottom run By their own fear or sloth.

Seb. 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.



That he's undrown'd.

I have no hope

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,

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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.


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. Ant. 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


Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples 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.

And how does your content Tender your own good fortune?

Seb. I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero. Ant.

True: 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.


Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible.

Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger


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.
Now, good angels
They wake. 310

Preserve the king.

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

Wherefore this ghastly looking?

Gon. 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. 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.


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.


O! but one word.
Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear
They talk apart. | 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. Thunder. Alas! the storm is come again: my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.


Enter STEPHANO, singing; a bottle in his hand.
I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die a-shore-

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

Well, here's my comfort.


The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I,
The gunner and his mate

Lov'd Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery,

But none of us car'd for Kate;

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

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.

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

Yet a tailor might scratch her where-e'er she did itch; That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor:

I will kneel to him.

Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.


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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.


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.

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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.

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