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

Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that won

ders

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. So they are:

[To FERD.

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 subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a-day
Behold this maid all corners else o'the earth

Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duket liberty make use of space; enough

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:-At the first sight.

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.

Mira. Be of comfort;
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
All points of my command.
Ari. To the syllable.

Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him.
[Exeunt.

(So have we all) of joy for our escape
Is much beyond our loss: Our hint of woe
Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
The masters of some merchant, and the mer-
chant,

Have just our theme of woe: but for the mi-
racle,

I mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us: then wisely, good Sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.

Alon. 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.

Gon. Sir,

Seb. One:- Tell.

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.

Seb. He hath raised the wall, and honses too. Ant. What impossible matter will be nake easy next?

Seb. I think he will carry this island home in

Gon. When every grief is entertained, that's his pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

offer'd,

Comes to the entertainer

Seb. A dollar.

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

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.

Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring 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.
Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Ant. O widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.
Gon. Is not, Sir, tny doublet as fresh as the
first day 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 mar-
riage?

Alon. You cram these words into mine ears,
against

The stomach of my sense: 'Would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,- My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
Seb. Ha, ha, ha!

Ant. So, you've paid.

Who is so far from Italy remov'd,

I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,- Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish

Seb. Yet,

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not miss it.

Hath made his meal on thee !
Fran. Sir, be may live;

I saw him beat the surges under him,

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, delicate temperauce. Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted

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

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks? how 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.

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.

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, be 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.

The surge most swoln that met him his bold
head

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

Alon. 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.
Alon. Pr'ythee, peace.

Seb. You were kueel'd to, and impórtun'd

otherwise

Measure us back to Naples!-Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake!-Say, this were death
That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no

worse

Than now they are: There be, that can rule
Naples,

As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate
As amply and unnecessarily,

As this Gonzalo; I myself could make

A chongh of as deep chat. Oh! that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?
Seb. Methinks, I do.

Ant. And how does your content

Tender your own good fortune?

Seb. I remember,

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
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,

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 for ever: 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. Oh but one word.

[They converse apart. Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible. Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger

That these, his friends, are in; and sends me forth,

(For else his project dies,) to keep them living.
[Sings in GONZALO's car.

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 awake.
Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are
you drawn?

Wherefore this ghastly looking ?
Gon. What's the matter?

Alon. Lead away.

Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:

So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Aside.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Another part of the island.
Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood.

A noise of thunder heard.

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 :
Sometime 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 'the wind yond' same black cloud, yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard 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? 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 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! Waim, o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer; this is no

Seb. Whileз we stood here securing your re-fish but an islander, that hath lately suffered by

pose,

Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulis, or rather lions; did it not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.

Alon. 1 beard nothing.

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

Aut. Ob! 'twas a din to fright a monster's past.

ear;

A bird of the jack-daw kind.

Any hint.

+ Ever.

Make mouths.

A black-jack of leather, to hold beer.
A coarse frock still worn in Sussex.

Enter STEPHANO, singing; a bottle in his, hope now, thou art not drown'd. Is the storm

Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy! mercy This is a devil, and no mouster: I will leave him; I have no loug spoon.

Trin. Stephano !-if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo;-be rot afeard,-thy good friend Trinculo.

Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth; I'll pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed: How cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos?

Trin. I took him to be kill'd with a thunderstroke-But art thou not drown'd, Stephano? 1

over-blown? I hid me under the dead mooncalf's gaberdine, for fear of the storm: And art thon living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scap'd !

Ste. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.

Cal. These be fine things, an if they be not sprites.

That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor: