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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

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His brother, the usurping Duke of Milan

Son to the King of Naples

An honest old Counsellor

Lords

A savage and deformed Slave

A Jester

A drunken Butler

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Daughter to Prospero
An Airy Spirit

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THE TEMPEST

ACT I

SCENE I-On a ship at sea; a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard

Mast.

Enter a Ship-Master and a Boatswain

Boatswain!

Boats. Here, master: what cheer?

Mast. Good, speak to the mariners: fall to 't, yarely, or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.

Enter Mariners

[Exit.

Boats. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare! Take in the topsail. 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 10

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 cares

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these roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not.

Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast 20 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 : 30 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. [Exeunt.

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 howling! they are louder than the weather or our office.

Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO 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.

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Ant. Hang, cur! hang, you insolent noisemaker! 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.

Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off to sea again; lay her off.

Enter Mariners wet

Mariners. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all

lost!

Boats.

What, must our mouths be cold?

Gon. The king and prince at prayers! let 's assist them,

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Though every drop of water swear against it
And gape at widest to glut him.

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[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.

Seb. Let's take leave of him.

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60

[Exeunt Ant. and Seb.

Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any thing. The wills above be done! but 70 I would fain die a dry death. [Exeunt.

SCENE II

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The island. Before PROSPERO's cell

Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA

Mir. 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 creature 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 ere

It should the good ship so have swallow'd and
The fraughting souls within her.

Pros.

Be collected:

No more amazement: tell your piteous heart
There's no harm done.

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Mir.

Pros.

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, nought knowing
Of whence I am, nor that I am more better
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
And thy no greater father.

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