Which any print of goodness will not take, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour 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'rt 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. [Aside. 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. Pro. So, slave; hence! [Exit CALIBAN. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND following. ARIEL'S Song. Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd The wild waves whist, Foot it featly here and there; Burden. Bow, wow. [Dispersedly. But, certainly a maid. Fer. No wonder, sir; My language! heavens!-[Rises. 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. Mira. Alack, for mercy! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of Milan, And his brave son, being twain. Pro. The duke of Milan, I'll set thee free for this!-[To him.] A word, good sir; Fer. O! if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples. Pro. Soft, sir: one word more.[Aside.] They are both in either's powers: but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light.-[To him.] 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. Fer. No, as I am a man. Mira. 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. My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. It works. Come on.Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!-Follow me.— [To FERD. and MIR. [To ARIEL. Be of comfort. Hark, what thou else shalt do me. My father's of a better nature, sir, Pro. To the syllable. Pro. Come, follow.—Speak not for him. [Exeunt. ACT 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, Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate 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. 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, he lies? Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. 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. 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 Gon. I assure you, Carthage. Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. 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 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. Seb. Ant. Foul weather? Very foul. And women too, but innocent and pure. Seb. Yet he would be king on't. Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. Gon. All things in common nature should produce, Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, 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 marriage? I ne'er again shall see her. O thou, mine heir Fran. Sir, he may live. The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd, 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, as Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people. Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects? Seb. 'Save his majesty ! And, do you mark me, sir? Ant. Long live Gonzalo ! Gon. Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing. 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 above invisible, playing solemn music. 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. Alon. What! all so soon asleep? I wish mine eyes Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find, Ant. We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, Alon. Thank you. Wondrous heavy.-[ALONZO sleeps. Seb. Why Doth it not, then, our eye-lids sink? I find not Myself disposed to sleep. Ant. Nor I: my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian ?—O ! what might?—No more :And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face, What thou should'st be. Th' occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head. Seb. What! art thou waking? Ant. Do you not hear me speak? I do; and, surely, Noble Sebastian, Ant. Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly: There's meaning in thy snores. Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you (The man i' the moon's too slow) till new-born chins Ant. As this Gonzalo; I myself could make I remember, And look how well my garments sit upon me; Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kybe, If he were that which now he's like, that's dead, Seb. Draw together; O! but one word. [They converse apart. Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth (For else his project dies) to keep them living. [Sings in GONZALO's ear. While you here do snoring lie, Open-ey'd conspiracy His time doth take. If of life you keep a care, Ant. Then, let us both be sudden. [They wake. Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no drawn? other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with Wherefore thus ghastly looking? strange bedfellows. I will here shroud, till the Gon. What's the matter? drench of the storm be past. Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing, Like bulls, or rather lions: did it not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly. Alon. I heard nothing. Ant. O! 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear, To make an earthquake: sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions. Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo? Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me. I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd: as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn.-There was a noise, That's verity: 'tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place. Let's draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground, and let's make farther search For my poor son. Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts, For he is, sure, i' the island. Alon. Lead away. [Exeunt. Ari. Prospero, my lord, shall know what I have done: So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exit. SCENE II.-Another part of the Island. Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any 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 bombard 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? [Seeing Caliban.] a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fishlike 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! 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 thunder-bolt. [Thunder.] Alas! the storm is come again: my best Enter STEPHANO, singing; a bottle in his hand. Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, Here shall I die a-shore. This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral. Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, She lov'd not the savour of tar, nor of pitch, This is a scurvy tune too; but here's my comfort. [Drinks. Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not 'scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, as proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground, and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at nostrils. Cal. The spirit torments me: O! Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be but for that: if I can recover him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather. Cal. Do not torment me, pr'ythee: I'll bring my wood home faster. Ste. He's in his fit now, and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him: he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly. Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee. Ste. Come on your ways: open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat. Open your mouth this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend; open your chaps again. [CALIBAN drinks. Trin. I should know that voice. It should be-but he is drowned, and these are devils. O, defend me !— Ste. Four legs, and two voices! a most delicate monster. His forward voice, now, is to speak well of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches, and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. Come,-Amen! I will pour some in thy other mouth. Trin. Stephano! Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy! mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no long spoon. Trin. Stephano!-if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me, for I am Trinculo:-be not 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? he vent Trinculos? Can |