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. Pro. 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 race, Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on't 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, 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: Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd, (The wild waves whist3) Foot it featly here and there; Bur. Bowgh, wowgh. Hark, hark! fhear [dispersedly. [dispersedly. The strain of strutting chanticlere, Fer. Where should this music be? i' the air, o the earth? It sounds no more:-and sure, it waits upon 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 (1) Fairies. (2) Destroy. (3) Still, silent, (4) Owns. Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders And his brave son, being twain. [Aside. They have chang'd eyes :-Delicate Ariel, Fer. Thy nerves are in their infancy again, So they are: My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's of a better nature, sir, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you They are both in either's powers: but this swift I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Aside. thee, That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp From me, the lord on't." No, as I am a man. Fer. Pro. a If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Fer. I will resist such entertainment, till No; [He draws. Pro. conscience Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward;' Mira. Beseech you, father! I'll be his surety. Sir, have pity; Silence: one word more Pro. Thou think'st, there are no more such shapes as he, And they to him are angels. Mira. My affections ACT II. SCENE I-Another part of the island. Enter Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have cause (So have we all) of joy; for our escape 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, Ant. So, you've pay'd. Seb. Ha, ha, ha! Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,- The stomach of my sense: 'would I had never Seb. Yet, Adr. Yet Ant. He could not miss it. Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir 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. Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life. Seb. Of that there's none, or little. Fran. Sir, he may live; 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd Gon. How lush2 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, 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. Ant. 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 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 Eneas 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. Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments scem 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. ter, But rather lose her to an African; Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye, Alon. Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise Foul weather? 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. All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, (1) Temperature. (2) Rank. (3) Shade of colour. (4) Degree or quality. (5) The rack. Seb. Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Whiles thou art waking. 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! Thou dost snore distinctly; Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you Seb. Well; I am standing water. Ant. I'll teach you how to flow. Seb. Ant. Do so: to ebb, 1 0, 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. Pr'ythée, 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. '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 continue 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. n. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes ould, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find, They are inclined to do so. Please you, sir, We two, my lord, Ant. Ant. What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is me, That Ferdinand is drown'd? Will you grant, with He's gone. Then, tell me, Claribel. 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. Seb. What stuff is this?-How say you? "Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is some space. Ant. 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 sciz'd them; why, they were no What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee; and Ant. You did supplant your brother Prospero. Ant. True: And look, how well my garments sit upon me; int. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kibe, If he were that which now he's like; whom I, Seb. Thy case, dear friend, Ant. Draw together: O, but one word. While you here do snoring lie, His time doth take: If of life you keep a care, Ant. Then let us both be sudden. Alon. Alon. 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, Enter Trinculo. Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me, any Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off 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 bumbard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: vond' 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 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. This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: The master, the swabber, the boastswain, and I, (4) A black jack of leather, to hold beer. |