Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,
Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,
Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me,
From my own library, with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.

Mira. 'Would I might

But ever see that man!

Pro. Now I arise:

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here, in this island, we arrived; and here

Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princes can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

Mira. Heavens thank you for 't! And now I pray you, Sir,

(For still 'tis beating in my mind,) your reason For raising this ac-storm?

Pro. Know thus far forth.

By accident most strange, bountiful fortune,
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies

Brought to this shore: and by my presciene

I find my zenith doth depend upon

A most auspicious star; whose influence

If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes

Will ever after droop.-Here cease more questions;
Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way;-I know thou canst not choose.-
[MIRANDA sleeps.
Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;
Approach, my Ariel; come.

Enter ARIEL.

Ari. All hail, great master! grave Sir, hail! I code To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

On the curl'd clouds; to thy strong bidding task
Ariel, and all his quality.

Pro. Hast thou, spirit,

Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Ari. To every article.

I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I famed amazement: sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the topmast,
The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursora
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not: the fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble;
Yea, his dread trident shake.

Pro. My brave spirit!

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil,

Would not infect his reason?

Ari. Not a soul

But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd

Some tricks of desperation. All, but mariners,
Plunged in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring, (then like reeds, not hair,)
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, "Hell is empty,
And all the dévils are here."

Prs. Why, that's my spirit!

But was not this nigh shore?

Ari. Close by, my master.

Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe?

Ari. Not a hair perish'd;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,

But fresher than before; and, as thou bad'st me,

In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle:

The king's son have I landed by himself;
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 disposed,
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 stow'd;

Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
I have left asleep; and for the rest o' the fleet,
Which I dispersed, they all have met again
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples;

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

Iro. Ariel, thy charge

Once in a month, recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forgett'st. This damn'd witch, Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,

Thou know'st, was banish'd; for one thing she did,
They would not take her life: is not this true?
Ari. Ay, Sir.

Pro. This blue-eyed 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

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 millwheels strike: then was this island
(Save for the son that she did litter here,

A freckled whelp, hag-born) not honour'd with
A human shape.

Ari. Yes; Caliban, her son.

Pro. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban,
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know st
What torment I did find thee in: thy groans
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts

Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment

To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not again undo; it was mine art,
When I arrived, and heard thee, that made gape

The pine, and let thee out.

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:

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my spiriting gently.

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

[Exit ANIEL

Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!

Mira. The strangeness of your story put Heaviness on me.

Pro. Shake it off: come on;

We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.

Mira. 'Tis a villain, Sir,

I do not love to look on

Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd
With raven's feather from unwholesome fen,
Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye,
And blister you all o'er!

Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, K
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd

As thick as honeycombs, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made them.

Cal. I must eat my dinner.

This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,

Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest first,
Thou strok'st me, and mad'st much of me; wouldst give
Water with berries in 't; and teach me how
To name the bigger light, and how the less,
That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee,
And shew'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,

The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place, and fertile;
Cursed be I that did so!-All the charms

Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
For I am all the subjects that you have,

Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest of the island.

Pro. Thou most lying slave,

Whom stripes may move, not kindness: I have used thee,
Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodged thee
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
The honour of my child.

Cal. O ho, O ho!-would it had been done!
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.

Pro. Abhorred slave!

Which any print of goodness will not take,

Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,

Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known: but thy vile race,
Though thou didst learn, had that in 't which good natures
Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confined into this rock,

Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse: the red plague rid you, For learning me your language!

Pro. Hag-seed, hence!

"Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;

Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:

Hark! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell."
Eiedchan
[Burden, ding-dong.

Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father:

This is no mortal business, nor no sound

That the earth owes :-I hear it now above me.

Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say, what thou seest yond'.

Mira. What is't? a spirit?

Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, Sir,
It carries a brave form :--but 'tis a spirit.

[senses

Pro. No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath such 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 mightst call A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, And strays about to find them.

Mira. I might call him

A thing divine; for nothing natural

I ever saw so noble.

Pro. It goes on,

[him

As my soul prompts it:-spirit, fine spirit! I'll free Within two days for this.

[Aside.

[thee

"Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou wert best,

To answer other business. Shrugg'st thou, malice?

Pro. The duke of Milan,

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.

And his more braver daughter, could control thee, If now 'twere fit to do't:-at the first sight

[Aside.

They have changed eyes:-delicate Ariel,

I'll set thee free for this!-A word, good Sir;

Cal. No, pray thee!

I must obey: his art is of such power,

[A side.

It would control my dam's god, Setebos,

And make a vassal of him.

Pro. So, slave; hence!

[Exit CALIBAN.

I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first
That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclined my way!

Fer. O, if a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples.

Pro. Soft, Sir; one word more.

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

They are both in either's powers: but this swift business

[Aside.

Make the prize light.-One 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.

Fer. No, as I am a man.

Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple

Fer. So they are:

[TO FERD.

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, or this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

Pro. It works :-Come on.

Thou hast done well, fine Ariel !-Follow me.-. [To FERD. and MIRA. Hark, what thou else shalt do me."

Mira. Be of comfort;

My father's of a better nature, Sir,

[TO ARIEL.

Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted, Which now came from him.

Pro. Thou shalt be as free

As mountain winds: but then exactly do

All points of my command.

Gon. 'Beseech you, Sir, be merry: you have cause
(So are 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.

Alon. Pr'ythee, peace.

1 Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.

Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by

and by it will strike.

Gon. Sir,

Seb. One-Tell.

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer

Seb. A dollar.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken traer than you purposed.

Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you

should.

Gon. Therefore, my lord,

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

Gon. Well, I have done: but yet

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

Ant. The cockrel.

Seb. Done: the wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match.

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,

Seb. Ha, ha, ha!

Ant. So, you've paid.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,...

Seb. Yet

Adr. Yet

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate
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.

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how 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 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 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.

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 raised 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?

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.

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 day

I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

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 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 removed,

Gon. Had I 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.

[beginning.

Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the 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.

Seb. 'Save his majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo!

Gon. And, do you mark me, Sir?-

[me.

Alon. Prythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to 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.

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. Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, 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

Seb. He's gone.

Will you grant, with me,

Ant. Then, tell me,
Who's the next heir of Naples ?
Seb. Claribel.

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 ching
Be rough and razorable: she, from whom
We were all sea-swallow'd, though some cast again;
And, by that, destined 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. 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 seized them; why, they were no worse
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