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On a Ship at Sea.

A tempeftuous noife of thunder and lightning beards Enter a Ship-mafter, and a Boatswain.




Boats. Here after what cheer Maft. Good, fpeak to th' mariner fall to't, yarely, or we run our felyes a-ground, beftir, beftir.

Enter Mariners.

Boats. Hey my hearts, cheerly my hearts; yare, yare; take in the top-fail; tend to th' mafter's whistle; blow 'till thou burft thy wind, if room enough,

D 3


Enter Alonfo, Sebaftian, Anthonio, Ferdinand,
Gonzalo, and others.

Alon. Good Boatfwain have care: where's the ma fter play the men.

Boarf. I pray now keep below.

Ant. Where is the master, boatswain?

Boats. Do you not hear him? you mar our labour; you affift the ftorm.

keep your cabins ;
Gonz. Nay, good be patient.
Boats. When the fea is.

Hence, what care thefe Roarers for the name of King? to cabin; filence; trouble us not.


Gonz. Good: yet remember whom thou haft aboard. Boats. None that I more love than my felf. You are a counsellor; if you can command thefe elements to filence, and work the peace of the prefent, we will not hand a rope more ; ufe your authority. you cannot, give thanks you have liv'd fo long, and make your felf ready in your cabin for the mifchance of the hour, if it fo hap. Cheerly good hearts: out of our way, I say.

[Exit. Gonz. I have great comfort from this fellow; methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand faft, good fate, to his hanging; make the rope of his deftiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage: if he be not born to be hang'd, our cafe is miferable. [Exit.

Re-enter Boatfwain.

Boats. Down with the top-maft: yare, lower, lower; bring her to try with main-courfe. A plague upon this howling

A cry within. Enter Sebaftian, Anthonio, and


they are louder than the weather, or our office. Yet again? what do you here? fhall we give o'er and drown? have you a mind to fink?


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Sebaf. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blafphemous, uncharitable dog.

Boats. Work you then.

Ant. Hang cur, hang, you whorefon infolent noifemaker; we are lefs afraid to be drown'd than thou


Gonz. I'll warrant him for drowning, tho' the fhip were no ftronger than a nut-fhell, and as leaky as an unftanch'd wench...

Boats. Lay her a hold, a hold; fet her two courfes off to foa again, lay her off.

Enter Mariners wet.

Mar. All loft! to prayers, to prayers! all loft!
Boats. What, muft our Mouths be cold?

Gonz. The King and Prince at prayers! let us af-
fift 'em.

For our cafe is as theirs.

Seb. I'm out of patience.

Ant. We're meerly cheated of our lives by drunkards. This wide-chopt rafcal

lye drowning

The washing of ten tides!
Gonz. He'll be hang'd yet,

would thou might'It

Though every drop of water fwear against it,
And at wid'ft to glut him. Mercy on us!
[A confufed noife within.
We fplit, we fplit! farewel my wife and children,
Brother farewel: we fplit, we fplit, we fplit!

Ant. Let's all fink with the King.
Seb. Let's take leave of him.

Gonz. Now would I give a thoufand furlongs of
fea for an acre of barren ground: long heath, brown
furze, any thing;
the wills above be done, but

I would fain die a dry death.


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The Inchanted Island.

Enter Profpero and Miranda.

Mira. Put the wild Waters in this roar, allay them:

by your art (my dearest father) you have

The sky it feems would pour down ftinking pitch,
But that the fea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek,
Dafhes the fire out. O! I have fuffer'd

With thofe that 1 faw fuffer: a brave veffel
(Who had, no doubt, fome noble creature in her)
Dafn'd all to pieces. Oh! the cry did knock
Against my very heart: poor fouls, they perifh'd!
Had I been any God of Pow'r, I would

Have funk the fea within the earth or ere
It fhould the good fhip fo have swallow'd, and
The a fraighted fouls within her.

Fro. Be collected;

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

Mira. O wo the day!

Pro. 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'm more, or better
Than Profpero, mafter of a full poor cell,.
And thy no greater father.

Mira. More to know

Did never meddle with my thoughts.
Pro. 'Tis time

I fhould inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magick garment from me: fo!
[Lays down his mantle..
Lye there my Art. Wipe thou thine eyes, have comfort,



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