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Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confin'd into this rock,
Who hadst deserv'd 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.

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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 might'st
call him

A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,
And strays about to find them.
Mira.

It goes on,

I might call him

[Aside.

Hag-seed, hence! A thing divine; for nothing natural
Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou were best, I ever saw so noble.
To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?
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.

Cal. No, 'pray thee !

I must obey: his art is of such power,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.`

Pro.

[Aside.

So, slave; hence!

[Exit Caliban.

Re-enter Ariel, invisible, playing and singing;
Ferdinand following him.

ARIEL'S SONG.

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:

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

Most sure, the goddess
On whom these airs attend!-Vouchsafe my prayer
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, Ó you wonder
If you be maid, or no?

Mira.
But, certainly a maid.

Fer.

No wonder, sir;

My language? heavens

How! the best?

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

Pro.

What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee?

(1) Fairies.

(2) Destroy.

(3) Still, silent.

(4) Owns.

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They have chang'd eyes :-Delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this!-A word, good sir;
I fear, you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that ere I saw; the first
That ere I sigh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!
O, if a virgin,

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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, or this man's threats,
To whom I am subducd, 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. [To Ariel.
Be of comfort,

Mira.

My father's of a better nature, sir, 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 Soft, sir; one word more.-All points of my command. They are both in either's powers: but this swift Ari. To the syllable. business Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt.

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

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [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:

If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with 't.
Pro.
Follow me.- [To Ferd.
Speak not you for him; he's a traitor.-Come,
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.

Fer.

I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy has more power.

No;

[He draws.
Mira.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful.2

Pro.
What, I say,
My foot my tutor!-Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy

conscience

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(So have we all) of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss: our hint of wo
Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
The masters of some merchant, and the merchant,
Have just our theme of wo: 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.
Pr'ythee, peace.
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.

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Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you proposed.

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!

Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against

Ant. So, you've pay'd.

Seb. Yet,

Adr. Yet

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,- The stomach of my sense: 'would I had never

Ant. He could not miss it.

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,

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

delicate temperance.'

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.
Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly de-
livered.

Aur. 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 every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.
Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

Fran.

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

head

his bold 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'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.

As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt,
He came alive to land.

Alon.

No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss;

Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is, indeed, al-That would not bless our Europe with your daugh most 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 dy'd, than stain'd with salt water.

int. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, He lies?

Seb. Av, 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 grac'd before with such paragon to their queen.

a

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. Ant. Widow? a pox o' that! how came that widow in? Widow Dido!

Stb. What if he had said, widower Encas 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 rais'd 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.

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Ant.
Very foul.
Gon. Had I a 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.
Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth for-

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. 0, widow Dido; av, widow Dido.
Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first gets the beginning.
day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.4

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.
Gon, When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?

(1) Temperature. (2) Rank. (S) Shade of colour,

Gon. All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,

(4) Degree or quality, (5) The rack,

Seb.

Would I not have but nature should bring forth, Whiles thou art waking.
Of its own kind, all foizon,' 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.

Thou dost snore distinctly;
There's meaning in thy snores.

Ant. I am more serious then my custom: you
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do,
Trebles thee o'er.
Seb.
Well; I am standing water.
Ant. I'll teach you how to flow.
Seb.

Ant.

0,

Do so: to ebb

And, do you mark me, sir?-Hereditary sloth instructs me. Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: Thou dost talk nothing to me. If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always Most often do so near the bottom run, use to laugh at nothing. By their own fear, or sloth. Seb.

Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd 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 cortinue 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. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find,

Ley 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.

Ant.

We two, my lord,

Will guard your person, while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
Alon.

Pr'ythee, 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,)
The king, his son's alive; 'tis as impossible
That he's undrown'd, as he that sleeps here swims
Seb. I have no hope
That he's undrown'd.

Ant.
What great hope have you! no hope, that way, 1s
O, out of that no hope,
Another way so high a hope, that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
But doubts discovery there.

Will you grant, with.

He's gone.
Then, tell me,

Claribel.

me,
That Ferdinand is drown'd?
Seb.
Ant.
Who's the next heir of Naples?
Seb.
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 mani' the moon's too slow,) till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable: she, from whom
We were all sea-swallowed, though some cast again,
And, by that, destin'd to perform an act,
Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come,
In yours and my discharge.

Thank you: wondrous heavy. [Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. Seb. What stuff is this?-How say you? Seb. Why 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis; Doth it not then our eye-lids sink? I find not So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions Myself dispos'd to sleep. There is some space. Ant. Nor I; my spirits are nimble. Ant. They fell together all, as by consent; A space whose every cubit Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Measure us back to Naples ?-Keep in Tunis, Worthy Sebastian?-O, what might?-No more:-And let Sebastian wake!-Say, this were death And yet methinks, I see it in thy face, That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee; and

My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
Seb.

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

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.

Ant.

Noble Sebastian,

Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st

(1) Plenty.

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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
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; whom I,
With this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed forever: 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 got'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.
Seb.

O, but one word.
[They converse apart.

Music. Re-enter Ariel, invisible.
Ari. My master through his art foresees the
danger

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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 me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark,
Out of my way, unless he bid them; but
For every trifle are they set upon me:
Sometimes like apes, that moe' and chatter at me,
And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
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!

Enter Trinculo.

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 brewing; I hear it sing i' the wind: yond' same black cloud, would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard that did before, I know not where to hide my head: ear.yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by pail

That these, his friends, are in; and sends me forth,
(For else his project dies,) to keep them living.
[Sings in Gonzalo's

While you here do snoring lie,
Open-ey'd 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.
Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king!
[They wake.
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.
Alon.
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.

Alon.
Heard you this, Gonzalo?
Gon. Upon mine honour, sír, I heard a hum-
ming,

And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd; as mine eyes open'd,
I saw their weapons drawn:-there was a noise,
That's verity: 'best stand upon our guard;
Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.
Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make fur-
ther search

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fuls.-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 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. Legg'd
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 thunderbolt. [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
bed-fellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of
the storm be past.

Enter Stephano, singing; a bottle in his hand.
Ste. I shall no more lo sea, to sea,
Here shall I die ashore;-

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral:
Well, here's my comfort.
[Drinks.

The master, the swabber, the boastswain, 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:

(4) A black jack of leather, to hold beør,
(5) The frock of a peasant,

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