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William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Tempest.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Scene II

Act I

[The island. Before Prospero’s cell]

Mir.If by your art, my dearest father, you havePut the wild waters in this roar, allay them.The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,But that the sea, mounting to the welkin’s cheek,Dashes the fire out. O, I have sufferedWith those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel,Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,Dash’d all to pieces! O, the cry did knockAgainst my very heart. Poor souls, they perish’d.Had I been any god of power, I wouldHave sunk the sea within the earth or ereIt should the good ship so have swallow’d andThe fraughting souls within her.Pros.Be collected;No more amazement. Tell your piteous heartThere’s no harm done.Mir.O, woe the day!Pros.No harm.I have done nothing but in care of thee,Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, whoArt ignorant of what thou art, nought knowingOf whence I am, nor that I am more betterThan Prospero, master of a full poor cell,And thy no greater father.Mir.More to knowDid never meddle with my thoughts.Pros.’Tis timeI should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,And pluck my magic garment from me. So,[Lays down his mantle.]Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch’dThe very virtue of compassion in thee,I have with such provision in mine artSo safely ordered that there is no soul—No, not so much perdition as an hairBetid to any creature in the vesselWhich thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st sink. Sit down;For thou must now know farther.Mir.You have oftenBegun to tell me what I am, but stopp’dAnd left me to a bootless inquisition,Concluding, “Stay, not yet.”Pros.The hour’s now come;The very minute bids thee ope thine ear.Obey and be attentive. Canst thou rememberA time before we came unto this cell?I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast notOut three years old.Mir.Certainly, sir, I can.Pros.By what? By any other house or person?Of anything the image tell me, thatHath kept with thy remembrance.Mir.’Tis far offAnd rather like a dream than an assuranceThat my remembrance warrants. Had I notFour or five women once that tended me?Pros.Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is itThat this lives in thy mind? What seest thou elseIn the dark backward and abysm of time?If thou rememb’rest aught ere thou cam’st here,How thou cam’st here thou may’st.Mir.But that I do not.Pros.Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,Thy father was the Duke of Milan andA prince of power.Mir.Sir, are not you my father?Pros.Thy mother was a piece of virtue, andShe said thou wast my daughter; and thy fatherWas Duke of Milan, and his only heirAnd princess no worse issued.Mir.O the heavens!What foul play had we, that we came from thence?Or blessed was ’t we did?Pros.Both, both, my girl.By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heav’d thence,But blessedly holp hither.Mir.O, my heart bleedsTo think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to,Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.Pros.My brother and thy uncle, call’d Antonio—I pray thee, mark me—that a brother shouldBe so perfidious!—he whom next thyselfOf all the world I lov’d, and to him putThe manage of my state; as at that timeThrough all the signories it was the first,And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputedIn dignity, and for the liberal artsWithout a parallel; those being all my study,The government I cast upon my brotherAnd to my state grew stranger, being transportedAnd rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle—Dost thou attend me?Mir.Sir, most heedfully.Pros.Being once perfected how to grant suits,How to deny them, who to advance and whoTo trash for overtopping, new createdThe creatures that were mine, I say, or chang’d ’em,Or else new form’d ’em; having both the keyOf officer and office, set all hearts i’ the stateTo what tune pleas’d his ear; that now he wasThe ivy which had hid my princely trunk,And suck’d my verdure out on ’t. Thou attend’st not.Mir.O, good sir, I do.Pros.I pray thee, mark me.I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicatedTo closeness and the bettering of my mindWith that which, but by being so retir’d,O’er-priz’d all popular rate, in my false brotherAwak’d an evil nature; and my trust,Like a good parent, did beget of himA falsehood, in its contrary as greatAs 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,—like oneWho having into truth, by telling of it,Made such a sinner of his memoryTo credit his own lie,—he did believeHe was indeed the Duke. Out o’ the substitution,And executing the outward face of royalty,With all prerogative, hence his ambition growing—Dost thou hear?Mir.Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.Pros.To have no screen between this part he play’dAnd him he play’d it for, he needs will beAbsolute Milan. Me, poor man!—my libraryWas dukedom large enough—of temporal royaltiesHe thinks me now incapable; confederates—So dry he was for sway—wi’ the King of NaplesTo give him annual tribute, do him homage,Subject his coronet to his crown, and bendThe dukedom yet unbow’d—alas, poor Milan!—To most ignoble stooping.Mir.O the heavens!Pros.Mark his condition and the event, then tell meIf this might be a brother.Mir.I should sinTo think but nobly of my grandmother.Good wombs have borne bad sons.Pros.Now the condition.This King of Naples, being an enemyTo me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit;Which was, that he, in lieu o’ the premisesOf homage and I know not how much tribute,Should presently extirpate me and mineOut of the dukedom, and confer fair MilanWith all the honours on my brother; whereon,A treacherous army levied, one midnightFated to the purpose did Antonio openThe gates of Milan; and, i’ the dead of darkness,The ministers for the purpose hurried thenceMe and thy crying self.Mir.Alack, for pity!I, not rememb’ring how I cried out then,Will cry it o’er again. It is a hintThat wrings mine eyes to ’t.Pros.Hear a little further,And then I’ll bring thee to the present businessWhich now’s upon ’s, without the which this storyWere most impertinent.Mir.Wherefore did they notThat hour destroy us?Pros.Well demanded, wench;My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not(So dear the love my people bore me) setA mark so bloody on the business; butWith colours fairer painted their foul ends.In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,Bore us some leagues to sea; where they preparedA rotten carcass of a butt, not rigg’d,Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very ratsInstinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,To cry to the sea that roar’d to us, to sighTo the winds whose pity, sighing back again,Did us but loving wrong.Mir.Alack, what troubleWas I then to you!Pros.O, a cherubinThou 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 meAn undergoing stomach, to bear upAgainst what should ensue.Mir.How came we ashore?Pros.By Providence divine.Some food we had and some fresh water thatA noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,Out of his charity, who being then appointedMaster of this design, did give us, withRich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,Knowing I lov’d my books, he furnish’d meFrom mine own library with volumes thatI prize above my dukedom.Mir.Would I mightBut ever see that man!Pros.Now I arise.[Puts on his robe.]Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.Here in this island we arriv’d; and hereHave I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profitThan other princess can that have more timeFor vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.Mir.Heavens thank you for ’t! And now, I pray you, sir,For still ’tis beating in my mind, your reasonFor raising this sea-storm?Pros.Know thus far forth.By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,Now my dear lady, hath mine enemiesBrought to this shore; and by my prescienceI find my zenith doth depend uponA most auspicious star, whose influenceIf now I court not but omit, my fortunesWill 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.[MIRANDA sleeps.]Come away, servant, come; I am ready now.Approach, my Ariel; come.

Ari.All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I comeTo answer thy best pleasure, be ’t to fly,To swim, to dive into the fire, to rideOn the curl’d clouds. To thy strong bidding taskAriel and all his quality.Pros.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. Sometime I’d divide,And burn in many places. On the topmast,The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,Then meet and join. Jove’s lightnings, the precursorsO’ the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentaryAnd sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracksOf sulphurous roaring the most mighty NeptuneSeem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,Yea, his dread trident shake.Pros.My brave spirit!Who was so firm, so constant, that this coilWould not infect his reason?Ari.Not a soulBut felt a fever of the mad, and play’dSome tricks of desperation. All but marinersPlung’d in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,Then all afire 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.”Pros.Why, that’s my spirit!But was not this nigh shore?Ari.Close by, my master.Pros.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 sighsIn an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,His arms in this sad knot.Pros.Of the King’s shipThe mariners say how thou hast dispos’d,And all the rest o’ the fleet.Ari.Safely in harbourIs the King’s ship; in the deep nook, where onceThou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dewFrom the still-vex’d Bermoothes, there she’s hid;The mariners all under hatches stow’d,Who, with a charm join’d to their suff’red 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 floatBound sadly home for Naples,Supposing that they saw the King’s ship wreck’dAnd his great person perish.Pros.Ariel, thy chargeExactly is perform’d; but there’s more work.What is the time o’ the day?Ari.Past the mid season.Pros.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.Pros.How now? moody?What is ’t thou canst demand?Ari.My liberty.Pros.Before the time be out? No more!Ari.I prithee,Remember I have done thee worthy service,Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv’dWithout or grudge or grumblings. Thou did promiseTo bate me a full year.Pros.Dost thou forgetFrom what a torment I did free thee?Ari.No.Pros.Thou dost, and think’st it much to tread the oozeOf the salt deep,To run upon the sharp wind of the north,To do me business in the veins o’ the earthWhen it is bak’d with frost.Ari.I do not, sir.Pros.Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgotThe foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envyWas grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her?Ari.No, sir.Pros.Thou hast. Where was she born? Speak; tell me.Ari.Sir, in Argier.Pros.O, was she so? I mustOnce in a month recount what thou hast been,Which thou forget’st. This damn’d witch Sycorax,For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terribleTo enter human hearing, from Argier,Thou know’st, was banish’d; for one thing she didThey would not take her life. Is not this true?Ari.Ay, sir.Pros.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, was then her servant;And, for thou wast a spirit too delicateTo act her earthy and abhorr’d commands,Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,By help of her more potent ministersAnd in her most unmitigable rage,Into a cloven pine; within which riftImprison’d thou didst painfully remainA dozen years; within which space she diedAnd left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groansAs fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island—Save for the son that she did litter here,A freckl’d whelp, hag-born,—not honour’d withA human shape.Ari.Yes, Caliban her son.Pros.Dull thing, I say so; he, that CalibanWhom now I keep in service. Thou best know’stWhat torment I did find thee in; thy groansDid make wolves howl, and penetrate the breastsOf ever angry bears. It was a tormentTo lay upon the damn’d, which SycoraxCould not again undo. It was mine art,When I arriv’d and heard thee, that made gapeThe pine, and let thee out.Ari.I thank thee, master.Pros.If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oakAnd peg thee in his knotty entrails tillThou hast howl’d away twelve winters.Ari.Pardon, master;I will be correspondent to commandAnd do my spiriting gently.Pros.Do so, and after two daysI will discharge thee.Ari.That’s my noble master!What shall I do? say what. What shall I do?Pros.Go make thyself like a nymph o’ the sea; be subjectTo no sight but thine and mine, invisibleTo every eyeball else. Go take this shapeAnd hither come in ’t. Go, hence with diligence!Exit ARIEL.Awake, dear heart, awake! Thou hast slept well;Awake!Mir.The strangeness of your story putHeaviness in me.Pros.Shake it off. Come on,We’ll visit Caliban my slave, who neverYields us kind answer.Mir.’Tis a villain, sir,I do not love to look on.Pros.But, as ’tis,We cannot miss him. He does make our fire,Fetch in our wood, and serves in officesThat profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!Thou earth, thou! speak.Cal.(Within.) There’s wood enough within.Pros.Come forth, I say! there’s other business for thee.Come, thou tortoise! when?
Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,Hark in thine ear.Ari.My lord, it shall be done.Exit.Pros.Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himselfUpon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Cal.As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’dWith raven’s feather from unwholesome fenDrop on you both! A south-west blow on yeAnd blister you all o’er!Pros.For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchinsShall, for that vast of night that they may work,All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch’dAs thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stingingThan bees that made ’em.Cal.I must eat my dinner.This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother,Which thou tak’st from me. When thou cam’st firstThou strok’dst me and made much of me, wouldst give meWater with berries in ’t, and teach me howTo name the bigger light, and how the less,That burn by day and night; and then I lov’d theeAnd show’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 charmsOf 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 meIn this hard rock, whiles you do keep from meThe rest o’ the island.Pros.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 theeIn mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violateThe honour of my child.Cal.O ho, O ho! would ’t had been done!Thou didst prevent me; I had peopl’d elseThis isle with Calibans.[Pros.]Abhorred slave,Which any print of goodness wilt not take,Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hourOne thing or other. When thou didst not, savage,Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble likeA thing most brutish, I endow’d thy purposesWith words that made them known. But thy vile race,Though thou didst learn, had that in ’t which good naturesCould not abide to be with; therefore wast thouDeservedly confin’d into this rock,Who hadst deserv’d more than a prison.Cal.You taught me language; and my profit on ’tIs, I know how to curse. The red plague rid youFor learning me your language!Pros.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 unwillinglyWhat I command, I’ll rack thee with old cramps,Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roarThat beasts shall tremble at thy din.Cal.No, pray thee.[Aside.]I must obey. His art is of such powerIt would control my dam’s god, Setebos,And make a vassal of him.Pros.So, slave; hence!Exit CALIBAN
Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND [following]
  • Come unto these yellow sands,
  • And then take hands.
  • Curtsied when you have, and kiss’d
  • The wild waves whist,
  • Foot it featly here and there,
  • And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
  • Burden(dispersedly).Hark, hark!Bow-wow.The watch-dogs bark!Bow-wow.Ari.Hark, hark! I hear
  • The strain of strutting chanticleer
  • Cry, “Cock-a-diddle-dow.”
  • Fer.Where should this music be? I’ the air or the earth?It sounds no more; and, sure, it waits uponSome god o’ 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 passionWith its sweet air; thence I have follow’d it,Or it hath drawn me rather. But ’tis gone.No, it begins again.
  • 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:
  • BurdenDing-dong.[Ari.]Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong, bell.Fer.The ditty does remember my drown’d father.This is no mortal business, nor no soundThat the earth owes. I hear it now above me.Pros.The fringed curtains of thine eye advanceAnd say what thou seest yond.Mir.What is ’t? A spirit?Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,It carries a brave form. But ’tis a spirit.Pros.No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such sensesAs we have, such. This gallant which thou seestWas in the wreck; and, but he’s something stain’dWith grief, that’s beauty’s canker, thou mightst call himA goodly person. He hath lost his fellowsAnd strays about to find ’em.Mir.I might call himA thing divine; for nothing naturalI ever saw so noble.Pros.[Aside.]It goes on, I see,As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I’ll free theeWithin two days for this.Fer.Most sure, the goddessOn whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayerMay know if you remain upon this island,And that you will some good instruction giveHow I may bear me here. My prime request,Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!If you be maid or no?Mir.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.Pros.How? the best?What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?Fer.A single thing, as I am now, that wondersTo hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;And that he does I weep. Myself am Naples,Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheldThe King my father wreck’d.Mir.Alack, for mercy!Fer.Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of MilanAnd his brave son being twain.Pros.[Aside.]The Duke of MilanAnd his more braver daughter could control thee,If now ’twere fit to do ’t. At the first sightThey have chang’d eyes. Delicate Ariel,I’ll set thee free for this. [To FER.] A word, good sir;I fear you have done yourself some wrong; a word.Mir.Why speaks my father so ungently? ThisIs the third man that e’er I saw, the firstThat e’er I sigh’d for. Pity move my fatherTo be inclin’d my way!Fer.O, if a virgin,And your affection not gone forth, I’ll make youThe Queen of Naples.Pros.Soft, sir! one word more.[Aside.]They are both in either’s powers; but this swift businessI must uneasy make, lest too light winningMake the prize light. [To FER.] One word more; I charge theeThat thou attend me. Thou dost here usurpThe name thou ow’st not; and hast put thyselfUpon this island as a spy, to win itFrom me, the lord on ’t.Fer.No, as I am a man.Mir.There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.If the ill spirit have so fair a house,Good things will strive to dwell with ’t.Pros.Follow me.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 beThe fresh-brook mussels, wither’d roots and husksWherein the acorn cradled. Follow.Fer.No;I will resist such entertainment tillMine enemy has more power.He draws, and is charmed from moving.Mir.O dear father,Make not too rash a trial of him, forHe’s gentle and not fearful.Pros.What! I say;My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor,Who mak’st a show but dar’st not strike, thy conscienceIs so possess’d with guilt. Come from thy ward,For I can here disarm thee with this stickAnd make thy weapon drop.Mir.Beseech you, father.Pros.Hence! hang not on my garments.Mir.Sir, have pity.I’ll be his surety.Pros.Silence! one word moreShall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!An advocate for an impostor! hush!Thou think’st there is 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.Mir.My affectionsAre then most humble; I have no ambitionTo see a goodlier man.Pros.Come on; obey.Thy nerves are in their infancy againAnd have no vigour in them.Fer.So they are.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, nor this man’s threats,To whom I am subdu’d, are but light to me,Might I but through my prison once a dayBehold this maid. All corners else o’ the earthLet liberty make use of; space enoughHave I in such a prison.Pros.[Aside.]It works. [To FER.] Come on.—Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To FER.] Follow me.[To ARI.]Hark what thou else shalt do me.Mir.Be of comfort;My father’s of a better nature, sir,Than he appears by speech. This is unwontedWhich now came from him.Pros.[To ARI.]Thou shalt be as freeAs mountain winds; but then exactly doAll points of my command.Ari.To the syllable.Pros.[To MIR. and FER.]Come, follow. Speak not for him.Exeunt.