The Tempest

Chapter 2

Chapter 24,407 wordsPublic domain

Pros. Hag-seed, hence: Fetch vs in Fewell, and be quicke thou'rt best To answer other businesse: shrug'st thou (Malice) If thou neglectst, or dost vnwillingly What I command, Ile racke thee with old Crampes, Fill all thy bones with Aches, make thee rore, That beasts shall tremble at thy dyn

Cal. No, 'pray thee. I must obey, his Art is of such pow'r, It would controll my Dams god Setebos, And make a vassaile of him

Pro. So slaue, hence.

Exit Cal.

Enter Ferdinand & Ariel, inuisible playing & singing.

Ariel Song. Come vnto these yellow sands, and then take hands: Curtsied when you haue, and kist the wilde waues whist: Foote it featly heere, and there, and sweete Sprights beare the burthen.

Burthen dispersedly.

Harke, harke, bowgh wawgh: the watch-Dogges barke, bowgh-wawgh

Ar. Hark, hark, I heare, the straine of strutting Chanticlere cry cockadidle-dowe

Fer. Where shold this Musick be? I'th aire, or th' earth? It sounds no more: and sure it waytes vpon Some God o'th' Iland, sitting on a banke, Weeping againe the King my Fathers wracke. This Musicke crept by me vpon the waters, Allaying both their fury, and my passion With it's sweet ayre: thence I haue follow'd it (Or it hath drawne me rather) but 'tis gone. No, it begins againe

Ariell Song. Full fadom fiue thy Father lies, Of his bones are Corrall made: Those are pearles that were his eies, Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a Sea-change Into something rich, & strange: Sea-Nimphs hourly ring his knell.

Burthen: ding dong. Harke now I heare them, ding-dong bell

Fer. The Ditty do's remember my drown'd father, This is no mortall busines, nor no sound That the earth owes: I heare it now aboue me

Pro. The fringed Curtaines of thine eye aduance, And say what thou see'st yond

Mira. What is't a Spirit? Lord, how it lookes about: Beleeue me sir, It carries a braue forme. But 'tis a spirit

Pro. No wench, it eats, and sleeps, & hath such senses As we haue: such. This Gallant which thou seest Was in the wracke: and but hee's something stain'd With greefe (that's beauties canker) y might'st call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellowes, And strayes about to finde 'em

Mir. I might call him A thing diuine, for nothing naturall I euer saw so Noble

Pro. It goes on I see As my soule prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, Ile free thee Within two dayes for this

Fer. Most sure the Goddesse On whom these ayres attend: Vouchsafe my pray'r May know if you remaine vpon this Island, And that you will some good instruction giue How I may beare me heere: my prime request (Which I do last pronounce) is (O you wonder) If you be Mayd, or no?

Mir. No wonder Sir, But certainly a Mayd

Fer. My Language? Heauens: I am the best of them that speake this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken

Pro. How? the best? What wer't thou if the King of Naples heard thee?

Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To heare thee speake of Naples: he do's heare me, And that he do's, I weepe: my selfe am Naples, Who, with mine eyes (neuer since at ebbe) beheld The King my Father wrack't

Mir. Alacke, for mercy

Fer. Yes faith, & all his Lords, the Duke of Millaine And his braue sonne, being twaine

Pro. The Duke of Millaine And his more brauer daughter, could controll thee If now 'twere fit to do't: At the first sight They haue chang'd eyes: Delicate Ariel, Ile set thee free for this. A word good Sir, I feare you haue done your selfe some wrong: A word

Mir. Why speakes my father so vngently? This Is the third man that ere I saw: the first That ere I sigh'd for: pitty moue my father To be enclin'd my way

Fer. O, if a Virgin, And your affection not gone forth, Ile make you The Queene of Naples

Pro. Soft sir, one word more. They are both in eythers pow'rs: But this swift busines I must vneasie make, least too light winning Make the prize light. One word more: I charge thee That thou attend me: Thou do'st heere vsurpe The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thy selfe Vpon this Island, as a spy, to win it From me, the Lord on't

Fer. No, as I am a man

Mir. Ther's nothing ill, can dwell in such a Temple, If the ill-spirit haue so fayre a house, Good things will striue to dwell with't

Pro. Follow me

Pros. Speake not you for him: hee's a Traitor: come, Ile manacle thy necke and feete together: Sea water shalt thou drinke: thy food shall be The fresh-brooke Mussels, wither'd roots, and huskes Wherein the Acorne cradled. Follow

Fer. No, I will resist such entertainment, till Mine enemy ha's more pow'r.

He drawes, and is charmed from mouing.

Mira. O deere Father, Make not too rash a triall of him, for Hee's gentle, and not fearfull

Pros. What I say, My foote my Tutor? Put thy sword vp Traitor, Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike: thy conscience Is so possest with guilt: Come, from thy ward, For I can heere disarme thee with this sticke, And make thy weapon drop

Mira. Beseech you Father

Pros. Hence: hang not on my garments

Mira. Sir haue pity, Ile be his surety

Pros. Silence: One word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What, An aduocate for an Impostor? Hush: Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, (Hauing seene but him and Caliban:) Foolish wench, To th' most of men, this is a Caliban, And they to him are Angels

Mira. My affections Are then most humble: I haue no ambition To see a goodlier man

Pros. Come on, obey: Thy Nerues are in their infancy againe. And haue no vigour in them

Fer. So they are: My spirits, as in a dreame, are all bound vp: My Fathers losse, the weaknesse which I feele, The wracke of all my friends, nor this mans threats, To whom I am subdude, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this Mayd: all corners else o'th' Earth Let liberty make vse of: space enough Haue I in such a prison

Pros. It workes: Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariell: follow me, Harke what thou else shalt do mee

Mira. Be of comfort, My Fathers of a better nature (Sir) Then he appeares by speech: this is vnwonted Which now came from him

Pros. Thou shalt be as free As mountaine windes; but then exactly do All points of my command

Ariell. To th' syllable

Pros. Come follow: speake not for him.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others.

Gonz. Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue cause, (So haue we all) of ioy; for our escape Is much beyond our losse; our hint of woe Is common, euery day, some Saylors wife, The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant Haue iust our Theame of woe: But for the miracle, (I meane our preseruation) few in millions Can speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weigh Our sorrow, with our comfort

Alons. Prethee peace

Seb. He receiues comfort like cold porredge

Ant. The Visitor will not giue him ore so

Seb. Looke, hee's winding vp the watch of his wit, By and by it will strike

Gon. Sir

Seb. One: Tell

Gon. When euery greefe is entertaind, That's offer'd comes to th' entertainer

Seb. A dollor

Gon. Dolour comes to him indeed, you haue spoken truer then you purpos'd

Seb. You haue taken it wiselier then I meant you should

Gon. Therefore my Lord

Ant. Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue

Alon. I pre-thee spare

Gon. Well, I haue done: But yet

Seb. He will be talking

Ant. Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager, First begins to crow?

Seb. The old Cocke

Ant. The Cockrell

Seb. Done: The wager?

Ant. A Laughter

Seb. A match

Adr. Though this Island seeme to be desert

Seb. Ha, ha, ha

Ant. So: you'r paid

Adr. Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible

Seb. Yet

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not misse't

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench

Seb. I, and a subtle, as he most learnedly deliuer'd

Adr. The ayre breathes vpon vs here most sweetly

Seb. As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones

Ant. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a Fen

Gon. Heere is euery thing aduantageous to life

Ant. True, saue meanes to liue

Seb. Of that there's none, or little

Gon. How lush and lusty the grasse lookes? How greene?

Ant. The ground indeed is tawny

Seb. With an eye of greene in't

Ant. He misses not much

Seb. No: he doth but mistake the truth totally

Gon. But the rariety of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit

Seb. As many voucht rarieties are

Gon. That our Garments being (as they were) drencht in the Sea, hold notwithstanding their freshnesse and glosses, being rather new dy'de then stain'd with salte water

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speake, would it not say he lyes? Seb. I, or very falsely pocket vp his report

Gon. Me thinkes our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Affricke, at the marriage of the kings faire daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis

Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our returne

Adri. Tunis was neuer grac'd before with such a Paragon to their Queene

Gon. Not since widdow Dido's time

Ant. Widow? A pox o'that: how came that Widdow in? Widdow Dido!

Seb. What if he had said Widdower aeneas too? Good Lord, how you take it?

Adri. Widdow Dido said you? You make me study of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis

Gon. This Tunis Sir was Carthage

Adri. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you Carthage

Ant. His word is more then the miraculous Harpe

Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too

Ant. What impossible matter wil he make easy next?

Seb. I thinke hee will carry this Island home in his pocket, and giue it his sonne for an Apple

Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bring forth more Islands

Gon. I

Ant. Why in good time

Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seeme now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now Queene

Ant. And the rarest that ere came there

Seb. Bate (I beseech you) widdow Dido

Ant. O Widdow Dido? I, Widdow Dido

Gon. Is not Sir my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I meane in a sort

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for

Gon. When I wore it at your daughters marriage

Alon. You cram these words into mine eares, against the stomacke of my sense: would I had neuer Married my daughter there: For comming thence My sonne is lost, and (in my rate) she too, Who is so farre from Italy remoued, I ne're againe shall see her: O thou mine heire Of Naples and of Millaine, what strange fish Hath made his meale on thee?

Fran. Sir he may liue, I saw him beate the surges vnder him, And ride vpon their backes; he trod the water Whose enmity he flung aside: and brested The surge most swolne that met him: his bold head 'Boue the contentious waues he kept, and oared Himselfe with his good armes in lusty stroke To th' shore; that ore his waue-worne basis bowed As stooping to releeue him: I not doubt He came aliue to Land

Alon. No, no, hee's gone

Seb. Sir you may thank your selfe for this great losse, That would not blesse our Europe with your daughter, But rather loose her to an Affrican, Where she at least, is banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the greefe on't

Alon. Pre-thee peace

Seb. You were kneel'd too, & importun'd otherwise By all of vs: and the faire soule her selfe Waigh'd betweene loathnesse, and obedience, at Which end o'th' beame should bow: we haue lost your son, I feare for euer: Millaine and Naples haue Mo widdowes in them of this businesse making, Then we bring men to comfort them: The faults your owne

Alon. So is the deer'st oth' losse

Gon. My Lord Sebastian, The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse, And time to speake it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaister

Seb. Very well

Ant. And most Chirurgeonly

Gon. It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir, When you are cloudy

Seb. Fowle weather?

Ant. Very foule

Gon. Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord

Ant. Hee'd sow't with Nettle-seed

Seb. Or dockes, or Mallowes

Gon. And were the King on't, what would I do?

Seb. Scape being drunke, for want of Wine

Gon. I'th' Commonwealth I would (by contraries) Execute all things: For no kinde of Trafficke Would I admit: No name of Magistrate: Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty, And vse of seruice, none: Contract, Succession, Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none: No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle: No occupation, all men idle, all: And Women too, but innocent and pure: No Soueraignty

Seb. Yet he would be King on't

Ant. The latter end of his Common-wealth forgets the beginning

Gon. All things in common Nature should produce Without sweat or endeuour: Treason, fellony, Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any Engine Would I not haue: but Nature should bring forth Of it owne kinde, all foyzon, all abundance To feed my innocent people

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subiects?

Ant. None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues,

Gon. I would with such perfection gouerne Sir: T' Excell the Golden Age

Seb. 'Saue his Maiesty

Ant. Long liue Gonzalo

Gon. And do you marke me, Sir?

Alon. Pre-thee no more: thou dost talke nothing to me

Gon. I do well beleeue your Highnesse, and did it to minister occasion to these Gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble Lungs, that they alwayes vse 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 giuen?

Seb. And it had not falne flat-long

Gon. You are Gentlemen of braue mettal: you would lift the Moone out of her spheare, if she would continue in it fiue weekes without changing.

Enter Ariell playing solemne Musicke.

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 aduenture my discretion so weakly: Will you laugh me asleepe, for I am very heauy

Ant. Go sleepe, and heare vs

Alon. What, all so soone asleepe? I wish mine eyes Would (with themselues) shut vp my thoughts, I finde they are inclin'd to do so

Seb. Please you Sir, Do not omit the heauy offer of it: It sildome visits sorrow, when it doth, it is a Comforter

Ant. We two my Lord, will guard your person, While you take your rest, and watch your safety

Alon. Thanke you: Wondrous heauy

Seb. What a strange drowsines possesses them?

Ant. It is the quality o'th' Clymate

Seb. Why Doth it not then our eye-lids sinke? I finde Not my selfe dispos'd to sleep

Ant. Nor I, my spirits are nimble: They fell together all, as by consent They dropt, as by a Thunder-stroke: what might Worthy Sebastian? O, what might? no more: And yet, me thinkes I see it in thy face, What thou should'st be: th' occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination see's a Crowne Dropping vpon thy head

Seb. What? art thou waking?

Ant. Do you not heare me speake?

Seb. I do, and surely It is a sleepy Language; and thou speak'st Out of thy sleepe: What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleepe With eyes wide open: standing, speaking, mouing: And yet so fast asleepe

Ant. Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleepe: die rather: wink'st Whiles thou art waking

Seb. Thou do'st snore distinctly, There's meaning in thy snores

Ant. I am more serious then my custome: you Must be so too, if heed me: which to do, Trebbles thee o're

Seb. Well: I am standing water

Ant. Ile teach you how to flow

Seb. Do so: to ebbe Hereditary Sloth instructs me

Ant. O! If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mocke it: how in stripping it You more inuest it: ebbing men, indeed (Most often) do so neere the bottome run By their owne feare, or sloth

Seb. 'Pre-thee say on, The setting of thine eye, and cheeke proclaime A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throwes thee much to yeeld

Ant. Thus Sir: Although this Lord of weake remembrance; this Who shall be of as little memory When he is earth'd, hath here almost perswaded (For hee's a Spirit of perswasion, onely Professes to perswade) the King his sonne's aliue, 'Tis as impossible that hee's vndrown'd, As he that sleepes heere, swims

Seb. I haue no hope That hee's vndrown'd

Ant. O, out of that no hope, What great hope haue you? No hope that way, Is Another way so high a hope, that euen Ambition cannot pierce a winke beyond But doubt discouery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown'd

Seb. He's gone

Ant. Then tell me, who's the next heire of Naples?

Seb. Claribell

Ant. She that is Queene of Tunis: she that dwels Ten leagues beyond mans life: she that from Naples Can haue no note, vnlesse the Sun were post: The Man i'th Moone's too slow, till new-borne chinnes Be rough, and Razor-able: She that from whom We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast againe, (And by that destiny) to performe an act Whereof, what's past is Prologue; what to come In yours, and my discharge

Seb. What stuffe is this? How say you? 'Tis true my brothers daughter's Queene of Tunis, So is she heyre of Naples, 'twixt which Regions There is some space

Ant. A space, whose eu'ry cubit Seemes to cry out, how shall that Claribell Measure vs backe to Naples? keepe in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake. Say, this were death That now hath seiz'd them, why they were no worse Then now they are: There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleepes: Lords, that can prate As amply, and vnnecessarily As this Gonzallo: I my selfe could make A Chough of as deepe chat: O, that you bore The minde that I do; what a sleepe were this For your aduancement? Do you vnderstand me?

Seb. Me thinkes I do

Ant. And how do's your content Tender your owne good fortune?

Seb. I remember You did supplant your Brother Prospero

Ant. True: And looke how well my Garments sit vpon me, Much feater then before: My Brothers seruants Were then my fellowes, now they are my men

Seb. But for your conscience

Ant. I Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe 'Twould put me to my slipper: But I feele not This Deity in my bosome: 'Twentie consciences That stand 'twixt me, and Millaine, candied be they, And melt ere they mollest: Heere lies your Brother, No better then the earth he lies vpon, If he were that which now hee's like (that's dead) Whom I with this obedient steele (three inches of it) Can lay to bed for euer: whiles you doing thus, To the perpetuall winke for aye might put This ancient morsell: this Sir Prudence, who Should not vpbraid our course: for all the rest They'l take suggestion, as a Cat laps milke, They'l tell the clocke, to any businesse that We say befits the houre

Seb. Thy case, deere Friend Shall be my president: As thou got'st Millaine, I'le come by Naples: Draw thy sword, one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou paiest, And I the King shall loue thee

Ant. Draw together: And when I reare my hand, do you the like To fall it on Gonzalo

Seb. O, but one word.

Enter Ariell with Musicke and Song.

Ariel. My Master through his Art foresees the danger That you (his friend) are in, and sends me forth (For else his proiect dies) to keepe them liuing.

Sings in Gonzaloes eare.

While you here do snoaring lie, Open-ey'd Conspiracie His time doth take: If of Life you keepe a care, Shake off slumber and beware. Awake, awake

Ant. Then let vs both be sodaine

Gon. Now, good Angels preserue the King

Alo. Why how now hoa; awake? why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking?

Gon. What's the matter?

Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, (Euen now) we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like Buls, or rather Lyons, did't not wake you? It strooke mine eare most terribly

Alo. I heard nothing

Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a Monsters eare; To make an earthquake: sure it was the roare Of a whole heard of Lyons

Alo. Heard you this Gonzalo?

Gon. Vpon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming, (And that a strange one too) which did awake me: I shak'd you Sir, and cride: as mine eyes opend, I saw their weapons drawne: there was a noyse, That's verily: 'tis best we stand vpon our guard; Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons

Alo. Lead off this ground & let's make further search For my poore sonne

Gon. Heauens keepe him from these Beasts: For he is sure i'th Island

Alo. Lead away

Ariell. Prospero my Lord, shall know what I haue done. So (King) goe safely on to seeke thy Son.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Caliban, with a burthen of Wood (a noyse of thunder heard.)

Cal. All the infections that the Sunne suckes vp From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By ynch-meale a disease: his Spirits heare me, And yet I needes must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with Vrchyn-shewes, pitch me i'th mire, Nor lead me like a fire-brand, in the darke Out of my way, vnlesse he bid 'em; but For euery trifle, are they set vpon me, Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me, And after bite me: then like Hedg-hogs, which Lye tumbling in my bare-foote way, and mount Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I All wound with Adders, who with clouen tongues Doe hisse me into madnesse: Lo, now Lo,

Enter Trinculo.

Here comes a Spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly: I'le fall flat, Perchance he will not minde me

Tri. Here's neither bush, nor shrub to beare off any weather at all: and another Storme brewing, I heare it sing ith' winde: yond same blacke cloud, yond huge one, lookes like a foule bumbard that would shed his licquor: if it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailefuls. What haue we here, a man, or a fish? dead or aliue? a fish, hee smels like a fish: a very ancient and fish-like smell: a kinde of, not of the newest poore-Iohn: a strange fish: were I in England now (as once I was) and had but this fish painted; not a holiday-foole there but would giue a peece of siluer: there, would this Monster, make a man: any strange beast there, makes a man: when they will not giue a doit to relieue a lame Begger, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian: Leg'd like a man; and his Finnes like Armes: warme o'my troth: I doe now let loose my opinion; hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an Islander, that hath lately suffered by a Thunderbolt: Alas, the storme is come againe: my best way is to creepe vnder his Gaberdine: there is no other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellowes: I will here shrowd till the dregges of the storme be past.

Enter Stephano singing..

Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, here shall I dye ashore. This is a very scuruy tune to sing at a mans Funerall: well, here's my comfort.

Drinkes.

Sings.

The Master, the Swabber, the Boate-swaine & I; The Gunner, and his Mate Lou'd Mall, Meg, and Marrian, and Margerie, But none of vs car'd for Kate. For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a Sailor goe hang: She lou'd not the sauour of Tar nor of Pitch, Yet a Tailor might scratch her where ere she did itch. Then to Sea Boyes, and let her goe hang. This is a scuruy tune too: But here's my comfort.

Drinks.

Cal. Doe not torment me: oh

Ste. What's the matter? Haue we diuels here? Doe you put trickes vpon's with Saluages, and Men of Inde? ha? I haue not scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your foure legges: for it hath bin said; as proper a man as euer went on foure legs, cannot make him giue ground: and it shall be said so againe, while Stephano breathes at' nostrils

Cal. The Spirit torments me: oh

Ste. This is some Monster of the Isle, with foure legs; who hath got (as I take it) an Ague: where the diuell should he learne our language? I will giue him some reliefe if it be but for that: if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a Present for any Emperour that euer trod on Neates-leather

Cal. Doe not torment me 'prethee: I'le bring my wood home faster