Imatges de pÓgina
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(Of thee, my dear one! thee, my daughter!) who | And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle —

Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing Of whence I am; nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father.

Mira. More to know

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

I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand,
So;
And pluck my magic garment from me.—
[Lays down his mantle.
Lie there my art.-Wipe thou thine eyes; have com ort.
The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely order'd, that there is no soul
No, not so much perdition as an hair,
Betid to any creature in the vessel

Dost thou attend me?

Mira. Sir, most heedfully.

Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them; whom to advance, and whom
To trash for over-topping; new created

The creatures that were mine; I say, or chang'd them,
Or else new form'd them: having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts

To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was
The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk,
And suck'd my verdure out on't. - Thou attend'st not:
I pray thee, mark me.

Mira. O, good sir, I do.

Pro. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate
To closeness, and the bettering of my mind
With that, which, but by being so retir'd,
O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother

Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit Awak'd an evil nature; and my trust,

down;

For thou must now know further.

Mira. You have often

Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd,
And left me to a bootless inquisition;
Concluding, Stay, not yet.-

Pro. The hour's now come:

The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; Obey, and be attentive! Can'st thou remember A time before we came unto this cell?

I do not think thou can'st; for then thou wast not Out three years old.

Mira. Certainly, sir, I can.

Pro. By what? by any other house, or person? Of any thing the image tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance.

Mira. 'Tis far off;

And rather like a dream than an assurance,
That my remembrance warrants: Had I not
l'our or five women once, that tended me?
Pro. Thou had'st, and more, Miranda: But how is it,
That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?

If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here, thou may'st.

Mira. But that I do not.

Like a good parent, did beget of him

A falsehood, in its contrary as great

- like one,

As my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit,
A confidence sans bound. He, being thus lorded,
Not only with what my revenue yielded,
But what my power might else exact,
Who having, unto truth, by telling of it,
Made such a sinner of his memory,
To credit his own lie, he did believe
He was the duke; out of the substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative:- Hence his ambition
Growing, -Dost hear?

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Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
Pro. To have no screen between this part he play'd
And him he played it for, he needs will be
Absolute Milan: Me, poor man!-- my library
Was dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties
He thinks me now incapable: confederates
(So dry he was for sway) with the king of Naples,
To give him annual tribute, do him homage;
Subject his coronet to the crown, and bend
The dukedom, yet unbow'd, (alas! poor Milan!)
To most ignoble stooping.

Mira. O, the heavens!

Pro. Mark his condition, and the event; then tell me,

Pro. Twelve years since, Miranda, twelve years since, If this might be a brother.

Thy father was the duke of Milan, and

A prince of power.

Mira. Sir, are not you my father?

Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was duke of Milan; and his only heir

A princess; no worse issued.

Mira. O, the heavens!

Mira. I should sin

To think but nobly of my grandmother:
Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Pro. Now the condition.

This king of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
Which was, that he in lieu o' the premises, -
Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,

What foul play had we, that we came from thence? Should presently extirpate me and mine
Or blessed was't, we did?

Pro. Both, both, my girl:

Out of the dukedom; and confer fair Milan,
With all the honours, ou my brother: Whereon,

By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence; A treacherous army levied, one midnight

But blessedly holp hither.

Mira. O, my heart bleeds

-

To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance! Please you, further.
Pro. My brother, and thy uncle call'd Antonio,
I pray thee, mark me, - that a brother should
Be so perfidious!-he, whom next thyself
Of all the world I lov'd, aud to him put
The manage of my state; as, at that time,
Through all the signiories it was the first,
And Prospero the prime duke; being so reputed
In diguity, and, for the liberal arts,
Without a parallel; those being all my study,
The government I cast upon my brother,
And to my state grew stranger, being transported,

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.

Mira. 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.

Pro. 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.

Mira. Wherefore did they not

That hour destroy us?

Pro. Well demanded, wench;

My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not; And sight-out-running were not: The fire, and cracks (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 carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had 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.

Mira. Alack! what trouble
Was I then to you!

Pro. 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.

Mira. 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, stulls, and necessaries,
Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,
Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,
From my own library, with volumes that
I priz❜d above my dukedom.

Mira. 'Would I might

But ever see that man!

Pro. 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
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?

Pro. 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
I 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 can'st not choose. -

[Miranda sleeps.

Come away, servant, come: I am ready now; Approach, my Ariel; come.

Enter ARIEL.

Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble, Yea, his dread trident shake.

Pro. My brave spirit!

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Would not infect his reason?

Ari. Not a soul

But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring, (then like reeds, not hair,)
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.

Pro. Why, that's my spirit!
But was not this nigh shore?
Ari. Close by, my master.
Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe?
Ari. Not a hair perish'd;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and, as thou bad'st me,
In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle :
The king's son have I landed by himself;
Whom I left, cooling of the air with sighs,
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot.
Pro. Of the king's ship,

The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd,
And all the rest o' the fleet?

Ari. Safely in harbour

Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid:
The mariners all under hatches stow'd;
Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
I have left asleep and for the rest o' the fleet,
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again;
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples;

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd,
And his great person perish.
Pro. Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work:
What is the time o' the day?

Ari, 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 me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me.
Pro. How now? moody?

What is't thou can'st demand?
Ari. My liberty.

Pro. Before the time be out? no more.
Ari. I pray thee,

Remember, I have done thee worthy service;

Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd

To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

On the curl'd clouds: to thy strong bidding task Ariel, and all his quality.

Pro. Hast thou, spirit,

Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Ari. To every article.

I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd amazement: Sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the top-mast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary

Without or grudge, or grumblings: thou did'st pro-
To bate me a full year.

Pro. Dost thou forget

From what a torment I did free thee?

Ari. No.

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.

Ari. I do not, sir.

mise

Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age, and envy, Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

Ari. No, sir.

Pro. Thou hast: Where was she born? speak; tell me.
Ari. Sir, in Argier.

Pro. 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 banish'd; for one thing she did,
They would not take her life: Is not this true?
Ari. Ay, sir.

Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with
child,

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
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd, thou did'st painfully remain
A dozen years; within which space she died,
And left thee there; where thon did'st vent thy groans,
As fast as mill-wheels strike: Then was this island,
(Save for the son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp, hag-born,) not honour'd with
A human shape.

Ari. Yes; Caliban, her son.

Hark in thine ear.

[Exit.

Ari. My lord, it shall be done.
Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself
Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!
Enter CALIBAN.

Pro. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban,
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
What torment I did find thee in: thy groans
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts
Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment
To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not again undo; it was mine art,

When I arriv'd, and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.

Ari. I thank thee, master.

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,
And blister you all o'er!

Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have

cramps,

urchins

Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath
up;
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made them.

Cal. I must cat my dinner.

This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st 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 shew'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fertile;
Curs'd 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.

Pro. Thou most lying slave,

Whom stripes may move, not kindness: Í 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!

Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else

And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till

Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

Ari. Pardon, master:

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my spiriting gently.

Pro. Do so; and after two days

I will discharge thee.

Ari. That's my noble master!

What shall I do? say what? what shall I do?
Pro. Go make thyself like to 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. -

[Exit Ariel. Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well: Awake!

Mira. The strangeness of your story put Heaviness on me.

Pro. Shake it off: Come on;

We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.

Mira. 'Tis a villain, sir,

I do not love to look on.

Pro. But, as 'tis,

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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

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And then take hands:

Curt'sied when you have, and kiss'd,
(The wild waves whist,)

Foot it featly here and there;

And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
Hark, Hark!

Bur. Bowgh, wowgh.

The watch-dogs bark:

Bur. Bowgh, wowgh.

Hark, Hark! I hear

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And his more braver daughter, could control thee, If now 'twere fit to do't:-At the first sight [Aside. [Dispersedly. They have chang'd eyes:-Delicate Ariel,

I'll set thee free for this!-A word, good sir; [Dispersedly. I fear you have done yourself some wrong: A word. Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father, or To be inclin'd my way!

The strain of strutting chanticlere
Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo.

Fer. Where should this music be? i' the air,
the earth?

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 musick 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.

ARIEL sings.
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong, bell.
[Burden, ding-dong.
Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father :-
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes: I hear it now above me.
Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And say, what thou seest yond'.

Mira. What is't? a spirit?

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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

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As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee
Within two days for this.

Fer. 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 made, or no?

Mira. No wonder, sir; But certainly a maid.

Fer. 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?
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.

Fer. O, if a virgin,

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I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy has more power.
Mira. O, dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful.
Pro. What, I say,
My foot my tutor!

[He draws.

Put thy sword up, traitor; Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience

Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward;
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.

Mira. Beseech you, father!

Pro. Hence! hang not on my garments.
Mira. Sir, have pity;

I'll be his surety.

Pro. 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.

Mira. My affections

Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

Pro. Come on; obey:

Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.
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
Let liberty make use of; space enough

Have I in such a prison.

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Pro. It works:

Come on.

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb. With an eye of green in't.

Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! Follow me.

[To

Ferd. and Mir.

Sa

[To Ariel.

Hark, what thon else shalt do me.
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.

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 dy'd, than stain'd with salt water.

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, he lies?

Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt. Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.

АСТ

II.

SCENE I. Another part of the Island.
Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO,
ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others.

Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have cause
(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 merchant,
Have just our theme of woe: 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.

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Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Africk, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter, Claribel, to the king of Tanis.

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 Aeneas too?
good lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me stu-
dy 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

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's offer'd, pocket, and give it his son for an apple.
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. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.

Gon. Ay?

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. Why, in good time.

Ant. Fye, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.

Alon. I pr'ythee, spare.

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

Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Gon. Well, I have done: But yet

Seb. He will be talking.

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Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and de- Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
licate temperance.

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.

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Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss;
That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks? how green? But rather lose her to an African;

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