The Tempest - 1

THE TEMPEST.


DRAMATIS PERSONÆ[1].

ALONSO, King of Naples.
SEBASTIAN, his brother.
PROSPERO, the right Duke of Milan.
ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan.
FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples.
GONZALO, an honest old Counsellor.
ADRIAN, Lord
FRANCISCO, „
CALIBAN, a savage and deformed Slave.
TRINCULO, a Jester.
STEPHANO, a drunken Butler.
Master of a Ship.
Boatswain.
Mariners.
MIRANDA, daughter to Prospero.
ARIEL, an airy Spirit.
IRIS, presented by[2] Spirits.
CERES, „ „
JUNO, „ „
Nymphs, „ „
Reapers, „ „
Other Spirits attending on Prospero[3].
SCENE--_A ship at sea[4]: an uninhabited island._

Footnotes:
1: DRAMATIS PERSONÆ] NAMES OF THE ACTORS F1 at the end of the Play.
2: _presented by_] Edd.
3: _Other ... Prospero_] Theobald.
4: A ship at sea:] At sea: Capell.]


THE TEMPEST.


ACT I.

SCENE I. _On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise of thunder
and lightning heard._
_Enter _a Ship-Master_ and _a Boatswain_._
_Mast._ Boatswain!
_Boats._ Here, master: what cheer?
_Mast._ Good, speak to the mariners: fall to’t, yarely, or
we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. [_Exit._
_Enter _Mariners_._
_Boats._ Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! 5
yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master’s
whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough!
_Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO,
and others._
_Alon._ Good boatswain, have care. Where’s the master?
Play the men.
_Boats._ I pray now, keep below. 10
_Ant._ Where is the master, boatswain?
_Boats._ Do you not hear him? You mar our labour:
keep your cabins: you do assist the storm.
_Gon._ Nay, good, be patient.
_Boats._ When the sea is. Hence! What cares these 15
roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble
us not.
_Gon._ Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.
_Boats._ None that I more love than myself. You are a
Counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, 20
and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope
more; use your authority: if you cannot, give thanks you
have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin
for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good
hearts! Out of our way, I say. [_Exit._ 25
_Gon._ I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks
he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is
perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging:
make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth
little advantage. If he be not born to be hanged, our case 30
is miserable. [_Exeunt._
_Re-enter Boatswain._
_Boats._ Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower!
Bring her to try with main-course. [_A cry within._] A
plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather
or our office. 35
_Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO._
Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o’er, and
drown? Have you a mind to sink?
_Seb._ A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,
incharitable dog!
_Boats._ Work you, then. 40
_Ant._ Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noise-maker.
We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.
_Gon._ I’ll warrant him for drowning; though the ship
were no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched
wench. 45
_Boats._ Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off
to sea again; lay her off.
_Enter _Mariners_ wet._
_Mariners._ All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!
_Boats._ What, must our mouths be cold?
_Gon._ The king and prince at prayers! let’s assist them, 50
For our case is as theirs.
_Seb._ I’m out of patience.
_Ant._ We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:
This wide-chapp’d rascal,--would thou mightst lie drowning
The washing of ten tides!
_Gon._ He’ll be hang’d yet,
Though every drop of water swear against it, 55
And gape at widest to glut him.
[_A confused noise within:_ “Mercy on us!”--
“We split, we split!”-- “Farewell my wife and children!”--
“Farewell, brother!”-- “We split, we split, we split!”]
_Ant._ Let’s all sink with the king. 60
_Seb._ Let’s take leave of him. [_Exeunt Ant. and Seb._
_Gon._ Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for
an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any
thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a
dry death. [_Exeunt._ 65

Notes: I, 1.
SC. I. On a ship at sea] Pope.
Enter ... Boatswain] Collier MS. adds ‘shaking off wet.’
3: _Good,_] Rowe. _Good:_ Ff. _Good._ Collier.
7: _till thou burst thy wind_] _till thou burst, wind_ Johnson conj.
_till thou burst thee, wind_ Steevens conj.
8: Capell adds stage direction [Exeunt Mariners aloft.
11: _boatswain_] Pope. _boson_ Ff.
11-18: Verse. S. Walker conj.
15: _cares_] _care_ Rowe. See note (I).
31: [Exeunt] Theobald. [Exit. Ff.
33: _Bring her to try_] F4. _Bring her to Try_ F1 F2 F3.
_Bring her to. Try_ Story conj.
33-35: Text as in Capell. _A plague_--A cry within. Enter Sebastian,
Anthonio, and Gonzalo. _upon this howling._ Ff.
34-37: Verse. S. Walker conj.
43: _for_] _from_ Theobald.
46: _two courses off to sea_] _two courses; off to sea_ Steevens
(Holt conj.).
46: [Enter...] [Re-enter... Dyce.
47: [Exeunt. Theobald.
50: _at_] _are at_ Rowe.
50-54: Printed as prose in Ff.
56: _to glut_] _t’ englut_ Johnson conj.
57: See note (II).
59: _Farewell, brother!_] _Brother, farewell!_ Theobald.
60: _with the_] Rowe. _with’_ F1 F2. _with_ F3 F4.
61: [Exeunt A. and S.] [Exit. Ff.
63: _furze_ Rowe. _firrs_ F1 F2 F3. _firs_ F4.
_long heath, brown furze_] _ling, heath, broom, furze_ Hanmer.]
65: [Exeunt] [Exit F1, om. F2 F3 F4.]

SCENE II. _The island. Before PROSPERO’S cell._
_Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA._
_Mir._ If by your art, my dearest father, you have
Put 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 suffer’d 5
With 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 knock
Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perish’d!
Had I been any god of power, I would 10
Have sunk the sea within the earth, or ere
It should the good ship so have swallow’d and
The fraughting souls within her.
_Pros._ Be collected:
No more amazement: tell your piteous heart
There’s no harm done.
_Mir._ O, woe the day!
_Pros._ No harm. 15
I have done nothing but in care of thee,
Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who
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, 20
And thy no greater father.
_Mir._ More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.
_Pros._ ’Tis time
I 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. 25
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 30
Betid to any creature in the vessel
Which thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st sink. Sit down;
For thou must now know farther.
_Mir._ You have often
Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp’d,
And left me to a bootless inquisition, 35
Concluding “Stay: not yet.”
_Pros._ The hour’s now come;
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember
A time before we came unto this cell?
I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not 40
Out three years old.
_Mir._ Certainly, sir, I can.
_Pros._ By what? by any other house or person?
Of any thing the image tell me that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.
_Mir._ ’Tis far off,
And rather like a dream than an assurance 45
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
Four or five women once that tended me?
_Pros._ Thou hadst, 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? 50
If thou remember’st ought ere thou camest here,
How thou camest here thou mayst.
_Mir._ But that I do not.
_Pros._ Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and
A prince of power.
_Mir._ Sir, are not you my father? 55
_Pros._ 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
And princess, no worse issued.
_Mir._ O the heavens!
What foul play had we, that we came from thence? 60
Or blessed was’t we did?
_Pros._ Both, both, my girl:
By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heaved thence;
But blessedly holp hither.
_Mir._ O, my heart bleeds
To think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to.
Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther. 65
_Pros._ 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 loved, and to him put
The manage of my state; as, at that time, 70
Through all the signories it was the first,
And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed
In dignity, and for the liberal arts
Without a parallel; those being all my study,
The government I cast upon my brother, 75
And to my state grew stranger, being transported
And 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, whom to advance, and whom 80
To trash for over-topping, new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed ’em,
Or else new form’d ’em; having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts i’ the state
To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was 85
The 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 dedicated
To closeness and the bettering of my mind 90
With that which, but by being so retired,
O’er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother
Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,
Like a good parent, did beget of him
A falsehood in its contrary, as great 95
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, like one
Who having into truth, by telling of it, 100
Made such a sinner of his memory,
To credit his own lie, he did believe
He was indeed the duke; out o’ the substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative:--hence his ambition growing,-- 105
Dost thou hear?
_Mir._ Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
_Pros._ To have no screen between this part he play’d
And him he play’d it for, he needs will be
Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library
Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties 110
He thinks me now incapable; confederates,
So dry he was for sway, wi’ the King of Naples
To give him annual tribute, do him homage,
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend
The dukedom, yet unbow’d,--alas, poor Milan!-- 115
To most ignoble stooping.
_Mir._ O the heavens!
_Pros._ Mark his condition, and th’ event; then tell me
If this might be a brother.
_Mir._ I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother:
Good wombs have borne bad sons.
_Pros._ Now the condition. 120
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,
Should presently extirpate me and mine 125
Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan,
With all the honours, on my brother: whereon,
A treacherous army levied, one midnight
Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open
The gates of Milan; and, i’ the dead of darkness, 130
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me and thy crying self.
_Mir._ Alack, for pity!
I, not remembering how I cried out then,
Will cry it o’er again: it is a hint
That wrings mine eyes to’t.
_Pros._ Hear a little further, 135
And then I’ll bring thee to the present business
Which now’s upon ’s; without the which, this story
Were most impertinent.
_Mir._ Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?
_Pros._ Well demanded, wench:
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, 140
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 prepared 145
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg’d,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively have 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, 150
Did us but loving wrong.
_Mir._ Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you!
_Pros._ O, a cherubin
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, 155
Under my burthen groan’d; which raised in me
An undergoing stomach, to bear up
Against what should ensue.
_Mir._ How came we ashore?
_Pros._ By Providence divine.
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that 160
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity, who being then appointed
Master of this design, did give us, with
Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,
Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness, 165
Knowing I loved my books, he furnish’d me
From mine own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.
_Mir._ Would I might
But ever see that man!
_Pros._ Now I arise: [_Resumes his mantle._
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 170
Here in this island we arrived; and here
Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princesses can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.
_Mir._ Heavens thank you for’t! And now, I pray you, sir, 175
For still ’tis beating in my mind, your reason
For raising this sea-storm?
_Pros._ 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 180
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 inclined to sleep; ’tis a good dulness, 185
And give it way: I know thou canst not choose.
[_Miranda sleeps._
Come away, servant, come. I am ready now.
Approach, my Ariel, come.
_Enter _ARIEL_._
_Ari._ All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
To answer thy best pleasure; be’t to fly, 190
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curl’d clouds, to thy strong bidding task
Ariel and all his quality.
_Pros._ Hast thou, spirit,
Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee?
_Ari._ To every article. 195
I boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flamed amazement: sometime I’ld divide,
And burn in many places; on the topmast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, 200
Then meet and join. Jove’s lightnings, the precursors
O’ the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not: the fire and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble, 205
Yea, his dread trident shake.
_Pros._ 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 210
Plunged 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! 215
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 badest me,
In troops I have dispersed them ’bout the isle. 220
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.
_Pros._ Of the king’s ship
The mariners, say how thou hast disposed, 225
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; 230
Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour,
I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet,
Which I dispersed, they all have met again,
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples; 235
Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d,
And his great person perish.
_Pros._ Ariel, thy charge
Exactly 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 240
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 promised,
Which is not yet perform’d me.
_Pros._ How now? moody?
What is’t thou canst demand?
_Ari._ My liberty. 245
_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, served
Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise
To bate me a full year.
_Pros._ Dost thou forget 250
From what a torment I did free thee?
_Ari._ No.
_Pros._ 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 255
When it is baked with frost.
_Ari._ I do not, sir.
_Pros._ 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.
_Pros._ Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me. 260
_Ari._ Sir, in Argier.
_Pros._ 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, 265
Thou know’st, was banish’d: for one thing she did
They would not take her life. Is not this true?
_Ari._ Ay, sir.
_Pros._ This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child,
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, 270
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, 275
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison’d thou didst painfully remain
A dozen years; within which space she died,
And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans 280
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.
_Pros._ Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban, 285
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 290
Could not again undo: it was mine art,
When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.
_Ari._ I thank thee, master.
_Pros._ If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oak,
And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till 295
Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters.
_Ari._ Pardon, master:
I will be correspondent to command,
And do my spiriting gently.
_Pros._ 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? 300
_Pros._ Go make thyself like a nymph o’ the sea:
Be subject to no sight but thine and mine; invisible
To every eyeball else. Go take this shape,
And hither come in’t: go, hence with diligence!
[_Exit Ariel._
Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; 305
Awake!
_Mir._ The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.
_Pros._ Shake it off. Come on;
We’ll visit Caliban my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.
_Mir._ ’Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.
_Pros._ But, as ’tis, 310
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices
That 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: 315
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 himself
Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! 320
_Enter CALIBAN._
_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!
_Pros._ For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, 325
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch’d
As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made ’em.
_Cal._ I must eat my dinner. 330
This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,
Thou strokedst me, and madest much of me; wouldst give me
Water with berries in’t; and teach me how
To name the bigger light, and how the less, 335
That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee,
And show’d thee all the qualities o’ th’ 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! 340
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 o’ th’ island.
_Pros._ Thou most lying slave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee, 345
Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodged thee
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
The honour of my child.
_Cal._ O ho, O ho! would ’t had been done!
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else 350
This 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 hour
One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, 355
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst 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 360
Deservedly confined into this rock,
Who hadst deserved 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!
_Pros._ Hag-seed, hence! 365
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, 370
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.
_Cal._ No, pray thee.
[_Aside_] I must obey: his art is of such power,
It 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._