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ALONSO, King of Naples.
SEBASTIAN, his brother.
PROSPERO, the rightful Duke of Milan.
ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan.
FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples,
GONZALO, an honest old Counsellor.
ADRIAN, Lords.
CALIBAN, a savage and deformed Slave.
TRINCULO, a Jester.
STEPHANO, a drunken Butler.
Master of a Ship, Boatswain, and Mariners.

MIRANDA, daughter to PROSPERO.

ARIEL, an airy Spirit.
JUNO, Spirits.

Other Spirits attending on PROSPERO.

SCENE,— The Sea, with a Ship; afterwards an uninhabited Island.


SCENE I.—On a Ship at Sea.- A Storm with Thunder and


Enter a Ship-master and a Boatswain. Master. Boatswain ! Boats. Here, master: what cheer ? Mast. Good, speak to the mariners: fall to’t yarely, or we run ourselves aground : bestir, bestir.

[Exit. Enter Mariners. Boats. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts ! yare, yare: take in the top-sail ; tend to the master's whistle. --Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough! Enter Alonso, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, Gonzalo, and Others.

Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master? Play the men.

Boats. I pray now, keep below.
Ant. Where is the master, boatswain ?

Boats. Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your cabins: you do assist the storm. Gon. Nay, good, be patient.

Boats. When the sea is. Hence! What care these roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence ! trouble us not. Gon. Good; yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

Boats. None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor: if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more ; use your authority: if you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself

ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap.Cheerly, good hearts !-Out of our way, I say.

[Exit. Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good fate, to his hanging ! make the rope of his destiny our ·cable, for our own doth little advantage! If he be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable.

Re-enter Boatswain.
Boats. Down with the topmast: yare; lower, lower! Bring her
to try with main-course. [A cry within.] A plague upon this howl-
ing! they are louder than the weather, or our office.-

Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er, and drown?
Have you a mind to sink?

Seb. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!

Boats. Work you, then.

Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

Gon. I'll warrant him for drowning ; though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched wench.

Biats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold! Set her two courses : off to sea again ; lay her off.

Re-enter Mariners, wet.
Mar. All lost! to prayers, to prayers ! all lost!

[Exeunt. Boats. What, must our mouths be cold?

Gon. The king and prince at prayers! let us assist them, For our case is as theirs.

Seb. I am out of patience.'

Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards.
This wide-chapp'd rascal,—would thou might'st lie drowning,
The washing of ten tides !

[Exit Boatswain.
i He'll be hanged yet,
Though every drop of water swear against it,
And gape at wid'st to glut him. [A confused noise within,-“ Mercy

on us !"“We split, we split!”-“ Farewell, my wife and children !”“Farewell, brother !”—“We split, we split, we split !"-] Ant. Let 's all sink with the king.

(Exit. Seb. Let's take leave of him.

[Exit. Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of harren ground; long heath, brown furze, anything. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death.


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SCENE II.The Island: before the Cell of PROSPERO.

Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, you have
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,
But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer'd
With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel,
Who had, no doubt, some noble creatures in her,
Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
Against my very heart! Poor souls! they perish’d.
Had I been any god of power, I would
Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er
It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and
The fraughting souls within her.

Be collected :
No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart,
There's no harm done.

O, woe the day!

No harm.
I have done nothing but in care of thee,
(Of thee, my dear one! thee, my daughter !) who
Art ignorant of what thou art, naught knowing
Of whence I am ; nor that I am more better
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
And thy no greater father.

More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.

'Tis time I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, And pluck my magic garment from me.—So:

[Lays down his robe. Lie there, my art.-Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such provision in mine art So safely order'd, that there is no soul — No, not so much perdition as a hair, Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit

down; For thou must now know farther. Mira.

You have often


Begun to tell me what I am ; but stopp'd,
And left me to a bootless inquisition,
Concluding, “Stay, not yet.”

The hour 's now come;
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear:
Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember
A time before we came unto this cell ?
I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not
Out three years old.

Mira. . Certainly, Sir, I can.

Pro. By what? by any other house, or person?
Of anything the image tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.

'Tis far off ;
And rather like a dream, than an assurance
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
Four or five women once, that tended me?

Pro. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it,
That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?
If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam’st here,
How thou cam’st here, thou mayst.

But that I do not.
Pro. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
Thy father was the duke of Milan, and
A prince of power.

Sir, are not you my father ?
Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father
Was duke of Milan; and his only heir
A princess,-no worse issu’d.

( the heavens!
What foul play had we, that we came from thence ?
Or blessed was 't, we did ?

Both, both, my girl :
By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heaved thence ;
But blessedly holp hither.

O! my heart bleeds
To think o'the teen that I have turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.

Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call’d Antonio,-
I pray thee, mark me,--that a brother should
Be so perfidious !-he whom, next thyself,
Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put


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