fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. SEBASTIAN. Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores. ANTONIO. I am more serious than my custom; you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o'er. SEBASTIAN. Well, I am standing water. ANTONIO. I'll teach you how to flow. SEBASTIAN. Do so: to ebb, Hereditary sloth instructs me. ANTONIO. O, If you but knew how you the purpose cherish, Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it! Ebbing men indeed, Most often, do so near the bottom run By their own fear or sloth. SEBASTIAN. Prithee say on. The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throes thee much to yield. ANTONIO. Thus, sir: Although this lord of weak remembrance, this Who shall be of as little memory When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuaded- For he's a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade-the King his son's alive, 'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd As he that sleeps here swims. SEBASTIAN. I have no hope That he's undrown'd. ANTONIO. O, out of that 'no hope' What great hope have you! No hope that way is Another way so high a hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown'd? SEBASTIAN. He's gone. ANTONIO. Then tell me, Who's the next heir of Naples? SEBASTIAN. Claribel. ANTONIO. She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post, The Man i' th' Moon's too slow, till newborn chins Be rough and razorable; she that from whom We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, And by that destiny, to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge. SEBASTIAN. What stuff is this! How say you? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis; So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is some space. ANTONIO. A space whose ev'ry cubit Seems to cry out 'How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake.' Say this were death That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no worse Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate As amply and unnecessarily As this Gonzalo; I myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore The mind that I do! What a sleep were this For your advancement! Do you understand me? SEBASTIAN. Methinks I do. ANTONIO. And how does your content Tender your own good fortune? SEBASTIAN. I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero. ANTONIO. True. And look how well my garments sit upon me, Much feater than before. My brother's servants Were then my fellows; now they are my men. SEBASTIAN. But, for your conscience- ANTONIO. Ay, sir; where lies that? If 'twere a kibe, 'Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not This deity in my bosom; twenty consciences That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he's like-that's dead; Whom I with this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk; They'll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour. SEBASTIAN. Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan, I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword. One stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest; And I the King shall love thee. ANTONIO. Draw together; And when I rear my hand, do you the like, To fall it on Gonzalo. SEBASTIAN. O, but one word. [They talk apart] Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, with music and song ARIEL. 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, Shake off slumber, and beware. Awake, awake! ANTONIO. Then let us both be sudden. GONZALO. Now, good angels Preserve the King! [They wake] ALONSO. Why, how now?-Ho, awake!-Why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking? GONZALO. What's the matter? SEBASTIAN. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions; did't not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly. ALONSO. I heard nothing. ANTONIO. 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. ALONSO. Heard you this, Gonzalo? GONZALO. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me; I shak'd you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn-there was a noise, That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place. Let's draw our weapons. ALONSO. Lead off this ground; and let's make further search For my poor son. GONZALO. Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' th' island. ALONSO. Lead away. ARIEL. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done; So, King, go safely on to seek thy son. Exeunt SCENE 2 Another part of the island Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard CALIBAN. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' th' mire, Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but For every trifle are they set upon me; Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me, And after bite me; then like hedgehogs which Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues Do hiss me into madness. Enter TRINCULO Lo, now, lo! Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat; Perchance he will not mind me. TRINCULO. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' th' 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? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; 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 thunderbolt. [Thunder] Alas, the storm is come again! My best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout. Misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past. Enter STEPHANO singing; a bottle in his hand STEPHANO. I shall no more to sea, to sea, Here shall I die ashore- This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral; well, here's my comfort. [Drinks] The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I, The gunner, and his mate, Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, But none of us car'd for Kate; For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a sailor 'Go hang!' She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch, Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch. Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang! This is a scurvy tune too; but here's my comfort. [Drinks] CALIBAN. Do not torment me. O! STEPHANO. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon 's with savages and men of Ind? 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. CALIBAN. The spirit torments me. O! STEPHANO. 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. CALIBAN. Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood home faster. STEPHANO. 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. CALIBAN. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling; now Prosper works upon thee. STEPHANO. 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. TRINCULO. I should know that voice; it should be-but he is drown'd; and these are devils. O, defend me! STEPHANO. 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. TRINCULO. Stephano! STEPHANO. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is a devil, and no monster; I will leave him; I have no long spoon. TRINCULO. Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo-be not afeard-thy good friend Trinculo. STEPHANO. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth; I'll pull the 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? Can he vent Trinculos? TRINCULO. I took him to be kill'd with a thunderstroke. But art thou not drown'd, Stephano? I hope now thou are not drown'd. Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans scap'd! STEPHANO. Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant. CALIBAN. [Aside] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites. That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor. I will kneel to him. STEPHANO. How didst thou scape? How cam'st thou hither? Swear by this bottle how thou cam'st hither-I escap'd upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved o'erboard- by this bottle, which I made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast ashore. CALIBAN. I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject, for the liquor is not earthly. STEPHANO. Here; swear then how thou escap'dst. TRINCULO. Swum ashore, man, like a duck; I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. STEPHANO. [Passing the bottle] Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. TRINCULO. O Stephano, hast any more of this? STEPHANO. The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a rock by th' seaside, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! How does thine ague? CALIBAN. Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven? STEPHANO. Out o' th' moon, I do assure thee; I was the Man i' th' Moon, when time was. CALIBAN. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee. My mistress show'd me thee, and thy dog and thy bush. STEPHANO. Come, swear to that; kiss the book. I will furnish it anon with new contents. Swear. [CALIBAN drinks] TRINCULO. By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The Man i' th' Moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well drawn, monster, in good sooth! CALIBAN. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island; and will kiss thy foot. I prithee be my god. TRINCULO. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster! When's god's asleep he'll rob his bottle. CALIBAN. I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject. STEPHANO. Come on, then; down, and swear. TRINCULO. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy- headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him- STEPHANO. Come, kiss. TRINCULO. But that the poor monster's in drink. An abominable monster! CALIBAN. I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries; I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, Thou wondrous man. TRINCULO. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard! CALIBAN. I prithee let me bring thee where crabs grow; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee To clust'ring filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? STEPHANO. I prithee now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the King and all our company else being drown'd, we will inherit here. Here, bear my bottle. Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again. CALIBAN. [Sings drunkenly] Farewell, master; farewell, farewell! TRINCULO. A howling monster; a drunken monster! CALIBAN. No more dams I'll make for fish; Nor fetch in firing At requiring, Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish. 'Ban 'Ban, Ca-Caliban, Has a new master-Get a new man. Freedom, high-day! high-day, freedom! freedom, high- day, freedom! STEPHANO. O brave monster! Lead the way. Exeunt ACT III. SCENE 1 Before PROSPERO'S cell Enter FERDINAND, hearing a log FERDINAND. There be some sports are painful, and their labour Delight in them sets off; some kinds of baseness Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters Point to rich ends. This my mean task Would be as heavy to me as odious, but The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead, And makes my labours pleasures. O, she is Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed; And he's compos'd of harshness. I must remove Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up, Upon a sore injunction; my sweet mistress Weeps when she sees me work, and says such baseness Had never like executor. I forget; But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours, Most busy, least when I do it. Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen MIRANDA. Alas, now; pray you, Work not so hard; I would the lightning had Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile. Pray, set it down and rest you; when this burns, 'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father Is hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself; He's safe for these three hours. FERDINAND. O most dear mistress, The sun will set before I shall discharge What I must strive to do. MIRANDA. If you'll sit down, I'll bear your logs the while; pray give me that; I'll carry it to the pile. FERDINAND. No, precious creature; I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo, While I sit lazy by. MIRANDA. It would become me As well as it does you; and I should do it With much more ease; for my good will is to it, And yours it is against. PROSPERO. [Aside] Poor worm, thou art infected! This visitation shows it. MIRANDA. You look wearily. FERDINAND. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night. I do beseech you, Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers, What is your name? MIRANDA. Miranda-O my father, I have broke your hest to say so! FERDINAND. Admir'd Miranda! What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues Have I lik'd several women, never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd, And put it to the foil; but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best! MIRANDA. I do not know One of my sex; no woman's face remember, Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen More that I may call men than you, good friend, And my dear father. How features are abroad, I am skilless of; but, by my modesty, The jewel in my dower, I would not wish Any companion in the world but you; Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle Something too wildly, and my father's precepts I therein do forget. FERDINAND. I am, in my condition, A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king- I would not so!-and would no more endure This wooden slavery than to suffer The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service; there resides To make me slave to it; and for your sake Am I this patient log-man. MIRANDA. Do you love me? FERDINAND. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound, And crown what I profess with kind event, If I speak true! If hollowly, invert What best is boded me to mischief! I, Beyond all limit of what else i' th' world, Do love, prize, honour you. MIRANDA. I am a fool To weep at what I am glad of. PROSPERO. [Aside] Fair encounter Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between 'em! FERDINAND. Wherefore weep you? MIRANDA. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give, and much less take What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife, if you will marry me; If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no. FERDINAND. My mistress, dearest; And I thus humble ever. MIRANDA. My husband, then? FERDINAND. Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e'er of freedom. Here's my hand. MIRANDA. And mine, with my heart in't. And now farewell Till half an hour hence. FERDINAND. A thousand thousand! Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA severally PROSPERO. So glad of this as they I cannot be, Who are surpris'd withal; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I'll to my book; For yet ere supper time must I perform Much business appertaining. Exit SCENE 2 Another part of the island Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO STEPHANO. Tell not me-when the butt is out we will drink water, not a drop before; therefore bear up, and board 'em. Servant-monster, drink to me. TRINCULO. Servant-monster! The folly of this island! They say there's but five upon this isle: we are three of them; if th' other two be brain'd like us, the state totters. STEPHANO. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee; thy eyes are almost set in thy head. TRINCULO. Where should they be set else? He were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. STEPHANO. My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in sack. For my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues, off and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or my standard. TRINCULO. Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard. STEPHANO. We'll not run, Monsieur Monster. TRINCULO. Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs, and yet say nothing neither. STEPHANO. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good moon-calf. CALIBAN. How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe. I'll not serve him; he is not valiant. TRINCULO. Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to justle a constable. Why, thou debosh'd fish, thou, was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half fish and half a monster? CALIBAN. Lo, how he mocks me! Wilt thou let him, my lord? TRINCULO. 'Lord' quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural! CALIBAN. Lo, lo again! Bite him to death, I prithee. STEPHANO. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head; if you prove a mutineer-the next tree! The poor monster's my subject, and he shall not suffer indignity. CALIBAN. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd to hearken once again to the suit I made to thee? STEPHANO. Marry will I; kneel and repeat it; I will stand, and so shall Trinculo. Enter ARIEL, invisible CALIBAN. As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island. ARIEL. Thou liest. CALIBAN. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou; I would my valiant master would destroy thee. I do not lie. STEPHANO. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth. TRINCULO. Why, I said nothing. STEPHANO. Mum, then, and no more. Proceed. CALIBAN. I say, by sorcery he got this isle; From me he got it. If thy greatness will Revenge it on him-for I know thou dar'st, But this thing dare not- STEPHANO. That's most certain. CALIBAN. Thou shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee. STEPHANO. How now shall this be compass'd? Canst thou bring me to the party? CALIBAN. Yea, yea, my lord; I'll yield him thee asleep, Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head. ARIEL. Thou liest; thou canst not. CALIBAN. What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch! I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows, And take his bottle from him. When that's gone He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him Where the quick freshes are. STEPHANO. Trinculo, run into no further danger; interrupt the monster one word further and, by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doors, and make a stock-fish of thee. TRINCULO. Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther off. STEPHANO. Didst thou not say he lied? ARIEL. Thou liest. STEPHANO. Do I so? Take thou that. [Beats him] As you like this, give me the lie another time. TRINCULO. I did not give the lie. Out o' your wits and hearing too? A pox o' your bottle! This can sack and drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the devil take your fingers! CALIBAN. Ha, ha, ha! STEPHANO. Now, forward with your tale.-Prithee stand further off. CALIBAN. Beat him enough; after a little time, I'll beat him too. STEPHANO. Stand farther. Come, proceed. CALIBAN. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him I' th' afternoon to sleep; there thou mayst brain him, Having first seiz'd his books; or with a log Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember First to possess his books; for without them He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not One spirit to command; they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burn but his books. He has brave utensils-for so he calls them- Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal. And that most deeply to consider is The beauty of his daughter; he himself Calls her a nonpareil. I never saw a woman But only Sycorax my dam and she; But she as far surpasseth Sycorax As great'st does least. STEPHANO. Is it so brave a lass? CALIBAN. Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth brave brood. STEPHANO. Monster, I will kill this man; his daughter and I will be King and Queen-save our Graces!-and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo? TRINCULO. Excellent. STEPHANO. Give me thy hand; I am sorry I beat thee; but while thou liv'st, keep a good tongue in thy head. CALIBAN. Within this half hour will he be asleep. Wilt thou destroy him then? STEPHANO. Ay, on mine honour. ARIEL. This will I tell my master. CALIBAN. Thou mak'st me merry; I am full of pleasure. Let us be jocund; will you troll the catch You taught me but while-ere? STEPHANO. At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. [Sings] Flout 'em and scout 'em, And scout 'em and flout 'em; Thought is free. CALIBAN. That's not the tune. [ARIEL plays the tune on a tabor and pipe] STEPHANO. What is this same? TRINCULO. This is the tune of our catch, play'd by the picture of Nobody. STEPHANO. If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness; if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list. TRINCULO. O, forgive me my sins! STEPHANO. He that dies pays all debts. I defy thee. Mercy upon us! CALIBAN. Art thou afeard? STEPHANO. No, monster, not I. CALIBAN. Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that, when I wak'd, I cried to dream again. STEPHANO. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing. CALIBAN. When Prospero is destroy'd. STEPHANO. That shall be by and by; I remember the story. TRINCULO. The sound is going away; let's follow it, and after do our work. STEPHANO. Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see this taborer; he lays it on. TRINCULO. Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano. Exeunt SCENE 3 Another part of the island Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and OTHERS GONZALO. By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir; My old bones ache. Here's a maze trod, indeed, Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience, I needs must rest me. ALONSO. Old lord, I cannot blame thee, Who am myself attach'd with weariness To th' dulling of my spirits; sit down and rest. Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it No longer for my flatterer; he is drown'd Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go. ANTONIO. [Aside to SEBASTIAN] I am right glad that he's so out of hope. Do not, for one repulse, forgo the purpose That you resolv'd t' effect. SEBASTIAN. [Aside to ANTONIO] The next advantage Will we take throughly. ANTONIO. [Aside to SEBASTIAN] Let it be to-night; For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance As when they are fresh. SEBASTIAN. [Aside to ANTONIO] I say, to-night; no more. Solemn and strange music; and PROSPERO on the top, invisible. Enter several strange SHAPES, bringing in a banquet; and dance about it with gentle actions of salutations; and inviting the KING, etc., to eat, they depart ALONSO. What harmony is this? My good friends, hark! GONZALO. Marvellous sweet music! ALONSO. Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these? SEBASTIAN. A living drollery. Now I will believe That there are unicorns; that in Arabia There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix At this hour reigning-there. ANTONIO. I'll believe both; And what does else want credit, come to me, And I'll be sworn 'tis true; travellers ne'er did lie, Though fools at home condemn 'em. GONZALO. If in Naples I should report this now, would they believe me? If I should say, I saw such islanders, For certes these are people of the island, Who though they are of monstrous shape yet, note, Their manners are more gentle-kind than of Our human generation you shall find Many, nay, almost any. PROSPERO. [Aside] Honest lord, Thou hast said well; for some of you there present Are worse than devils. ALONSO. I cannot too much muse Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing, Although they want the use of tongue, a kind Of excellent dumb discourse. PROSPERO. [Aside] Praise in departing. FRANCISCO. They vanish'd strangely. SEBASTIAN. No matter, since They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs. Will't please you taste of what is here? ALONSO. Not I. GONZALO. Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys, Who would believe that there were mountaineers, Dewlapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find Each putter-out of five for one will bring us Good warrant of. ALONSO. I will stand to, and feed, Although my last; no matter, since I feel The best is past. Brother, my lord the Duke, Stand to, and do as we. Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes ARIEL. You are three men of sin, whom Destiny, That hath to instrument this lower world And what is in't, the never-surfeited sea Hath caus'd to belch up you; and on this island Where man doth not inhabit-you 'mongst men Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad; And even with such-like valour men hang and drown Their proper selves. [ALONSO, SEBASTIAN etc., draw their swords] You fools! I and my fellows Are ministers of Fate; the elements Of whom your swords are temper'd may as well Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish One dowle that's in my plume; my fellow-ministers Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt, Your swords are now too massy for your strengths And will not be uplifted. But remember- For that's my business to you-that you three From Milan did supplant good Prospero; Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it, Him, and his innocent child; for which foul deed The pow'rs, delaying, not forgetting, have Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures, Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, They have bereft; and do pronounce by me Ling'ring perdition, worse than any death Can be at once, shall step by step attend You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from- Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads-is nothing but heart's sorrow, And a clear life ensuing. He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, enter the SHAPES again, and dance, with mocks and mows, and carrying out the table PROSPERO. Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring. Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated In what thou hadst to say; so, with good life And observation strange, my meaner ministers Their several kinds have done. My high charms work, And these mine enemies are all knit up In their distractions. They now are in my pow'r; And in these fits I leave them, while I visit Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown'd, And his and mine lov'd darling. Exit above GONZALO. I' th' name of something holy, sir, why stand you In this strange stare? ALONSO. O, it is monstrous, monstrous! Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i' th' ooze is bedded; and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, And with him there lie mudded. Exit SEBASTIAN. But one fiend at a time, I'll fight their legions o'er. ANTONIO. I'll be thy second. Exeunt SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO GONZALO. All three of them are desperate; their great guilt, Like poison given to work a great time after, Now gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you, That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly, And hinder them from what this ecstasy May now provoke them to. ADRIAN. Follow, I pray you. Exeunt ACT IV. SCENE 1 Before PROSPERO'S cell Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA PROSPERO. If I have too austerely punish'd you, Your compensation makes amends; for Have given you here a third of mine own life, Or that for which I live; who once again I tender to thy hand. All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test; here, afore heaven, I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand! Do not smile at me that I boast her off, For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise, And make it halt behind her. FERDINAND. I do believe it Against an oracle. PROSPERO. Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition Wort'hily purchas'd, take my daughter. But If thou dost break her virgin-knot before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy rite be minist'red, No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall To make this contract grow; but barren hate, Sour-ey'd disdain, and discord, shall bestrew The union of your bed with weeds so loathly That you shall hate it both. Therefore take heed, As Hymen's lamps shall light you. FERDINAND. As I hope For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that day's celebration, When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd Or Night kept chain'd below. PROSPERO. Fairly spoke. Sit, then, and talk with her; she is thine own. What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel! Enter ARIEL ARIEL. What would my potent master? Here I am. PROSPERO. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service Did worthily perform; and I must use you In such another trick. Go bring the rabble, O'er whom I give thee pow'r, here to this place. Incite them to quick motion; for I must Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple Some vanity of mine art; it is my promise, And they expect it from me. ARIEL. Presently? PROSPERO. Ay, with a twink. ARIEL. Before you can say 'come' and 'go,' And breathe twice, and cry 'so, so,' Each one, tripping on his toe, Will be here with mop and mow. Do you love me, master? No? PROSPERO. Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach Till thou dost hear me call. ARIEL. Well! I conceive. Exit PROSPERO. Look thou be true; do not give dalliance Too much the rein; the strongest oaths are straw To th' fire i' th' blood. Be more abstemious, Or else good night your vow! FERDINAND. I warrant you, sir, The white cold virgin snow upon my heart Abates the ardour of my liver. PROSPERO. Well! Now come, my Ariel, bring a corollary, Rather than want a spirit; appear, and pertly. No tongue! All eyes! Be silent. [Soft music] Enter IRIS IRIS. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease; Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep; Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, Which spongy April at thy hest betrims, To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard; And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky hard, Where thou thyself dost air-the Queen o' th' sky, Whose wat'ry arch and messenger am I, Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace, Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, To come and sport. Her peacocks fly amain. [JUNO descends in her car] Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. Enter CERES CERES. Hail, many-coloured messenger, that ne'er Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; Who, with thy saffron wings, upon my flow'rs Diffusest honey drops, refreshing show'rs; And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down, Rich scarf to my proud earth-why hath thy Queen Summon'd me hither to this short-grass'd green? IRIS. A contract of true love to celebrate, And some donation freely to estate On the blest lovers. CERES. Tell me, heavenly bow, If Venus or her son, as thou dost know, Do now attend the Queen? Since they did plot The means that dusky Dis my daughter got, Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company I have forsworn. IRIS. Of her society Be not afraid. I met her Deity Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, Whose vows are that no bed-rite shall be paid Till Hymen's torch be lighted; but in vain. Mars's hot minion is return'd again; Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows, And be a boy right out. [JUNO alights] CERES. Highest Queen of State, Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait. JUNO. How does my bounteous sister? Go with me To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be, And honour'd in their issue. [They sing] JUNO. Honour, riches, marriage-blessing, Long continuance, and increasing, Hourly joys be still upon you! Juno sings her blessings on you. CERES. Earth's increase, foison plenty, Barns and gamers never empty; Vines with clust'ring bunches growing, Plants with goodly burden bowing; Spring come to you at the farthest, In the very end of harvest! Scarcity and want shall shun you, Ceres' blessing so is on you. FERDINAND. This is a most majestic vision, and Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold To think these spirits? PROSPERO. Spirits, which by mine art I have from their confines call'd to enact My present fancies. FERDINAND. Let me live here ever; So rare a wond'red father and a wise Makes this place Paradise. [JUNO and CERES whisper, and send IRIS on employment] PROSPERO. Sweet now, silence; Juno and Ceres whisper seriously. There's something else to do; hush, and be mute, Or else our spell is marr'd. IRIS. You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the wind'ring brooks, With your sedg'd crowns and ever harmless looks, Leave