Thou strok❜dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st | Weeping again the king my father's wreck, give me 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 lov'd thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fertile. Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you; Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me, Which any print of goodness will not take, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour 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. Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best, 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. This music crept by me upon the waters, ; Full fathom five thy father lies [Burden: ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell. Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father.This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes3-I hear it now above me. [Music above.* 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. Pro. No, wench: it eats, and sleeps, and hath such senses Fer. No, pray thee! I must obey; his art is of such power, Pro. So, slave; hence! [Exit CALIBAN. ·Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDI NAND following.1 Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd The wild waves whist, Foot it featly here and there;2 And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Hark, hark! Burden. Bow, wow. [Dispersedly. Fer. Where should this music be? i' th' It sounds no more;-and sure, it waits upon Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank, [earth? air, or th' But, certainly a maid. Fer. No wonder, sir; 6 My language! heavens!-Rises." I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken. Pro. How the best? What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee? Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me, And that he does I weep; myself am Naples ; Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The king, my father, wreck'd. Mira. Alack, for mercy! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of Milan, And his brave son, being twain. Pro. The duke of Milan, And his more braver daughter, could control thee, If now 'twere fit to do't.-[Aside.] At the first sight They have chang'd eyes-delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this !-[To him.] A word, good sir; I fear, you have done yourself some wrong: a word. Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This 1 f. e. have "him." 2 The old copies read: "Foot it featly here and there, and sweet sprites bear the burden." The MS. annotator of the folio of 1632, anticipated later critics in altering the passage as it stands in the text. 6 Not in f. e. 7 Not in f. e. 3 Owns. 4 Not in f. e. 5 Not in f. e. Fer. Soft, sir: one word more. [Aside.] They are both in either's powers: but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Mira. Sir, have pity: Silence! one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! Thou think'st there are no more such shapes as he, Make the prize light.-[To him.] One word more: I And they to him are angels. My affections Are then most humble: I have no ambition Come on; obey: [To FERD. So they are: My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. It works. Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!-Follow me.- Hark, what thou else shalt do me. My father's of a better nature, sir, Pro. Thou shalt be as free As mountain winds: but then, exactly do To the syllable. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I.-Another part of the Island. Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have cause Can speak like us: then, wisely, good sir, weigh Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken temperance. truer than you purposed. Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a subtle, as he most learnedly delivered. Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life. Seb. Of that there's none, or little. I saw him beat the surges under him, The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head Gon. How lush' and lusty the grass looks! how green! To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd, Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny. Seb. With an eye2 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 stain'd with salt water. As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt, He came alive to land. Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it Weigh'd between lothness and obedience, as3 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. Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have Alon. So is the dearest of the loss. Very well. Ant. And most chirurgeonly. Seb. Ant. Foul weather? Very foul. Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,- Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring Would I admit;5 no name of magistrate; 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. Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, Seb. Yet he would be king on't. Ant. The latter end of this commonwealth forgets Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day the beginning. I wore it? I mean, in a sort. Ant. That sort was well fish'd for. Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? I ne'er again shall see her. O thou, mine heir Gon. All things in common nature should produce, 6 Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects? 1 Juicy. 2 Slight shade of color. 3 at in f. e. 4 She'd in f. e. 5 It is a nation, would I answer Plato, that hath no kinde of traffike, no knowledge of Letters, no intelligence of numbers, no name of magistrate, nor of politike superioritie; no use of service, of riches, or of povertie; no contracts, no successions, no dividences, no occupation but idle; no respect of kinred, but common, no apparel but, naturall, no manuring of lands, no use of wine. corne, or mettle. The very that import lying, falshood, treason, dissimulations, covetousnes, envie, detraction, and pardon, were never heard of amongst them.-Montaigne, Florio's translation, 1603. 6 Plenty. t Ant. Long live Gonzalo! me. 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 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 ! 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 above,1 invisible, playing solemn music. 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: We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, Alon. Thank you. Wondrous heavy.-[ALON. sleeps. Ant. Nor I my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian ?-O! what might ?—No more :-And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face, 2 What thou should'st be. Th' occasion speaks thee, and What! art thou waking? I do; and, surely, Ant. Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly: There's meaning in thy snores. Ant. I am more serious than 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. lereditary sloth instructs me. O! Ant. If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, Most often do so near the bottom run By their own fear, or sloth. Seb. Pr'ythee, say on. The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim Ant. O! out of that no hope, Then, tell me, Claribel. Who's the next heir of Naples? We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again; Seb. Ant. As this Gonzalo; I myself could make Seb. Methinks, I do. Ant. Seb. But, for your conscience True: Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kybe, '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, Do so to ebb And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother, If he were that which now he's like, that's dead, Seb. Draw together; Seb. O! but one word. [They converse apart. Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger His time doth take. If of life you keep a care, Ant. Then, let us both be sudden. And yet I needs must curse; but they'll not pinch, Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment 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, yond' huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls.--What have we here ? [Seeing Caliban.] a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fishear.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 but 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 thunder-bolt. [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 bedfellows. I will here shroud, till the drench' of the storm be past. [They wake. Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you drawn? Wherefore thus2 ghastly looking? Alon. I heard nothing. Alon. For my poor son. Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts, For he is, sure, i' the island. Alon. Lead away. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Another part of the Island. Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up Enter STEPHANO, singing; a bottle in his hand. Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, Here shall I die a-shore. This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral. The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I The gunner, and his mate, Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, For she had a tongue with a tang, She lov'd not the savour of tar, nor of pitch, Yet a tailor might scratch her where-e'er she did itch ; This is a scurvy tune too; but here's my comfort. [Drinks. Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not 'scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, as proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground, and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at nostrils. Cal. The spirit torments me: O! Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be but for that: if I can recover him, and keep 1 Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible : in f. e. 2 this in f. e. 3 Collier's ed., 1844, reads, "verily "-most of the other editions, "verity," as in the text. 4 nor: in f. e. 5 The name of a large vessel to contain drink, as well as of a piece of artillery. Not in f. e. dregs: in f. e. |