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Was dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties From my own library, with volumes that
He thinks me now incapable: confederates I prize above my dukedom.
(So dry he was for sway) with the king of Naples,| Mira.
'Would I might
To give him annual tribute, do him homage;
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend
The dukedom, yet unbow'd (alas, poor Milan!)
To most ignoble stooping.
But ever see that man!
Now I arise:-
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this island we arriv'd; and here
Have I, thy school-master, made thee more profit
O the heavens!
If this might be a brother.
I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother:
Good wombs have born bad sons.
Pro. Mark his condition, and the event; then 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 sea-storm?
Now the condition.
This king of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
Which was, that he in lieu2 o' the premises,-
Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,-I
Should presently extirpate me and mine
Out of the dukedom; and confer fair Milan,
With all the honours, on my brother: whereon,
A treacherous army levied, one midnight
Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open
The gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness,
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me, and thy crying self.
Alack, for pity!
I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then,
Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint,'
That wrings mine eyes.
Hear a little further, And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon us; without the which, this story Were most impertinent.
Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?
Well demanded, wench;
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst
(So dear the love my people bore me) nor set
A mark so bloody on the business; but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark ;
Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd
A rotten carcase of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively quit it: there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.
Alack! what trouble
O! a cherubim
Thou wast, that did preserve me? Thou didst smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt;
Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me
An undergoing stomach,' to bear up
Against what should ensue.
How came we ashore?
Pro. By Providence divine.
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity (who being then appointed
Master of this design,) did give us, with
Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,
Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentle-
Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,
Know thus far forth -
By accident most strange, bountiful fortune,
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore: and by my prescience
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 inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way;-I know thou canst not choose.-
Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;
Approach, my Ariel; come.
(1) Thirsty. (2) Consideration. (3) Suggestion. (4) Sprinkled. (5) Stubborn resolution.
Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work:
What is the time o' the day?
Past the mid season. Pro. At least two glasses: the time 'twixt six and now,
Must by us both be spent most preciously.
Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give
Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me.
How now? moody?
What is't thou canst demand?
Pro. Before the time be out? no more.
I pray thee
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst pro-
To bate me a full year.
Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?
Pro. Thou dost; and think'st
It much, to tread the ooze of the salt deep;
To run upon the sharp wind of the north;
To do me business in the veins o' the earth,
When it is bak'd with frost.
I do not, sir.
Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou
The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age, and envy,
Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?
Ari. No, sir.
I will discharge thee.
That's my noble master!
What shall I do? say what: what shall I do?
Pro. Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea;
Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible
To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape,
And hither come in't: hence, with diligence.
Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;
Mira. The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.
We'll visit Caliban, my
Yields us kind answer.
But, as 'tis,
I do not love to look on.
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood; and serves in offices
That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!
Thou earth, thou! speak.
Cal. [Within.] There's wood enough within.
Pro. Come forth, I say; there's other business
Come forth, thou tortoise! when?
Thou hast where was she born?
speak; tell me.
Ari. Sir, in Argier.
O, was she so? I must,
Once in a month, recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch, Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know'st, was banished; for one thing she
They would not take her life. Is not this true?
Ari. Av, sir.
Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought
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
(2) Wave. (3) Algiers. |
Shake it off; come on;
slave, who never
'Tis a villain, sir,
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,
(5) Do without.
And blister you all o'er!
Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have|
Side-stiches, that shall pen thy breath up; urchins'
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as noney-combs, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made them.
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'dst me, and mad'st much of me;
would'st 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' the isle,
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and
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.
Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness; I have us'd thee,
Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodg'd 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.
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 would'st gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known: But thy vile
Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good
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. Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou were 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. 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.
So, slave; hence! [Exit Caliban. Re-enter Ariel, invisible, playing and singing; Ferdinand following him. ARIEL'S SONG.
It sounds no more:-and sure, it waits upon Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the king my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters; Allaying both their fury, and my passion, With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather :-But 'tis gone. No, it begins again.
Mira. I might call him A thing divine; for nothing natural I ever saw so noble. Pro. It goes on, Aside. As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Within two days for this.
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, O you wonder. If you be maid, or no? Mira.
No wonder, sir;
But, certainly a maid.
My language? heavens
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? (3) Still, silent. (4) Owns.
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.
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.
And his brave son, being twain.
The duke of Milan,
And his more braver daughter, could control' thee,
If now it were fit to do 't. At the first sight
So they are.
Alack, for mercy! My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of 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.
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,
My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.
Thou shalt be as free
As mountain winds: but then exactly do
points of my command.
To the syllable.
Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt.
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,
And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The queen of Naples.
Soft, sir; one word more.-All They are both in either's powers: but this swift business
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."
No, as I am a man. Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such temple:
If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with 't.
I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy has more power.
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 cradíed. Follow.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful.2
What, I say,
My foot my tutor!-Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy
Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward;3
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.
Beseech you, father!
Pro. Hence; hang not on my garments.
Sir, have pity;
I'll be his surety.
Silence: one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an impostor? hush!
Thou think'st, there are no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels,
Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.
(2) Frightful. (3) Guard.
SCENE I-Another part of the island. Enter
Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,
Francisco, and others.
Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have
(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.
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.
Seb. One:- -Tell.
Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's offer'd,
Comes to the entertainer-
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.
Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,- 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 remov'd,
Ant. He could not miss it.
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!
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 every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.
Seb. Of that there's none, or little.
'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
As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt,
He came alive to land.
Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb. With an eye of green in't.
Ant. He misses not much.
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: his bold
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.
No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss;
That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,
But rather lose her to an African;
Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.
Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise
By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at
Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost
fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business' making,
Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault's
Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.
My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.
Ant. And most chirurgeonly.
Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.
Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,-
Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.
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: :-
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 gets the beginning.
day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.
Gon. All things in common nature should produce
Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,
Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.
Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
(1) Temperature. (2) Rank. (5) Shade of colour.
(4) Degree or quality. (5) The rack.
And yet he would be king on't.
Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth for-