A tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard.
Enter a Shipmaster and a Boatswain.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, Gonzalo,and others.
He exits with Alonso, Sebastian,and the other courtiers.
Enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo.
Enter more Mariners, wet.
Enter Prospero and Miranda.
Prospero puts on his cloak.
Enter Ariel like a water nymph.
Enter Ferdinand; and Ariel, invisible,playing and singing.
Burden dispersedly, within:
Burden dispersedly, within:
He draws, and is charmed from moving.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,Francisco, and others.
Enter Ariel invisible, playing solemn music.
All sink down asleep except Alonso,Antonio, and Sebastian.
Enter Ariel, invisible, with music and song.
, to the sleeping Gonzalo
Enter Caliban with a burden of wood.
He lies down and covers himself with a cloak.
He crawls under Caliban’scloak.
He pulls him out from under Caliban’scloak.
He crawls out from under thecloak.
Enter Ferdinand bearing a log.
Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a distance, unobserved.
Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo.
Trinculo moves fartheraway.
Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe.
, to the invisible musician
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,Francisco, etc.
Solemn and strange music,
enter Prospero on thetop invisible.
Enter several strange shapes, bringing in a banquet, anddance about it with gentle actions of salutations.
Inviting the King, etc., to eat, the shapes depart.
Alonso, Sebastian, and Antoniomove toward the table.
Enter Ariel, like a Harpy, clapshis wings upon the table,
with a quaint device thebanquet vanishes.
Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio draw their swords.
Then, to soft music, enter the shapes again, and dance,with mocks and mows,
and carrying out the table.
Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.
Ferdinand and Miranda move aside.
Juno and Ceres whisper,and send Iris on employment.
Enter certain Reapers, properly habited.
They join withthe Nymphs in a graceful dance,
towards the endwhereof Prospero starts suddenly and speaks.
To a strange, hollow, and confused noise,
the spirits heavily vanish.
Enter Ariel, loaden with glistering apparel, etc.
Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet,
asProspero and Ariel look on.
He puts on one of the gowns.
He takes a jacket from the tree.
A noise of hunters heard.
Enter divers spirits in shape of dogs and hounds,hunting them about,
Prospero and Ariel setting them on.
Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo are driven off.
Enter Prospero in his magic robes, and Ariel.
Prospero draws a large circle on the stage with his staff.
Prospero gestures with his staff.
Here enters Ariel before; then Alonso with a franticgesture, attended by Gonzalo; Sebastian and Antonio inlike manner attended by Adrian and Francisco.
They allenter the circle which Prospero had made, and therestand charmed;
which Prospero observing, speaks.
Ariel exits and at once returnswith Prospero’s ducal robes.
sings, and helps to attire him.
Aside to Sebastian and Antonio.
Ferdinand and Miranda,playing at chess.
, seeing Alonso and coming forward
, rising and coming forward
, to Ferdinand and Miranda
Enter Ariel, with the Master and Boatswainamazedly following.
Enter Ariel, driving in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculoin their stolen apparel.
, to Stephano and Trinculo
Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo exit.
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 th’ welkin’s cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered
With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel,
Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,
Dashed all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perished.
Had I been any god of power, I would
Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere
It should the good ship so have swallowed, and
The fraughting souls within her.
More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.
You have often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopped
And left me to a bootless inquisition,
Concluding Stay. Not yet.
’Tis far off
And rather like a dream than an assurance
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
Four or five women once that tended me?
Sir, are not you my father?
O, the heavens!
What foul play had we that we came from thence?
Or blessèd was ’t we did?
O, my heart bleeds
To think o’ th’ teen that I have turned you to,
Which is from my remembrance. Please you,
Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother.
Good wombs have borne bad sons.
Alack, for pity!
I, not rememb’ring how I cried out then,
Will cry it o’er again. It is a hint
That wrings mine eyes to ’t.
Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?
Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you!
Would I might
But ever see that man.
Heavens thank you for ’t. And now I pray you, sir—
For still ’tis beating in my mind—your reason
For raising this sea storm?
The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.
’Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.
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
One thing or other. When thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes
With words that made them known. But thy vile
Though thou didst learn, had that in ’t which good
Could not abide to be with. Therefore wast thou
Deservedly confined into this rock,
Who hadst deserved more than a prison.
What is ’t? A spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form. But ’tis a spirit.
I might call him
A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.
No wonder, sir,
But certainly a maid.
Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that e’er I saw, the first
That e’er I sighed for. Pity move my father
To be inclined my way.
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.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He’s gentle and not fearful.
Sir, have pity.
I’ll be his surety.
Are then most humble. I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.
My father’s of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech. This is unwonted
Which now came from him.
Alas now, pray you,
Work not so hard. I would the lightning had
Burnt up those logs that you are enjoined 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.
If you’ll sit down,
I’ll bear your logs the while. Pray, give me that.
I’ll carry it to the pile.
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.
Miranda.—O my father,
I have broke your hest to say so!
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.
I am a fool
To weep at what I am glad of.
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.
And mine, with my heart in ’t. And now farewell
Till half an hour hence.
Never till this day
Saw I him touched with anger, so distempered.
Sweet lord, you play me false.
Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,
And I would call it fair play.
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O, brave new world
That has such people in ’t!
a spirit, servant to Prospero
All hail, great master! Grave sir, hail! I come
To answer thy best pleasure. Be ’t to fly,
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curled clouds, to thy strong bidding task
Ariel and all his quality.
To every article.
I boarded the King’s ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flamed amazement. Sometimes I’d divide
And burn in many places. On the topmast,
The yards, and bowsprit would I flame distinctly,
Then meet and join. Jove’s lightning, the precursors
O’ th’ dreadful thunderclaps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not. The fire and cracks
Of sulfurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,
Yea, his dread trident shake.
Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and played
Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners
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 leaped; cried Hell is empty,And all the devils are here.
Not a hair perished.
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before; and, as thou bad’st me,
In troops I have dispersed them ’bout the isle.
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.
Safely in harbor
Is the King’s ship. In the deep nook, where once
Thou called’st me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vexed Bermoothes, there she’s hid;
The mariners all under hatches stowed,
Who, with a charm joined to their suffered labor,
I have left asleep. And for the rest o’ th’ fleet,
Which I dispersed, they all have met again
And are upon the Mediterranean float,
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the King’s ship wracked
And his great person perish.
Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,
Which is not yet performed me.
Remember I have done thee worthy service,
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, served
Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou did promise
To bate me a full year.
I will be correspondent to command
And do my spriting gently.
That’s my noble master.
What shall I do? Say, what? What shall I do?
My lord, it shall be done.
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands.
Curtsied when you have, and kissed
The wild waves whist.
Foot it featly here and there,
And sweet sprites bear
The burden. Hark, hark!
Burden dispersedly, within:Bow-wow.
The watchdogs bark.
Burden dispersedly, within:Bow-wow.
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Full fathom five thy father lies.
Of his bones are coral made.
Those are pearls that were his eyes.
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea nymphs hourly ring his knell.Burden, within:Ding dong.
Hark, now I hear them: ding dong bell.
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.While you here do snoring lie,
His time doth take.
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber and beware.
Prospero my lord shall know what I have done.
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.
Thou liest. Thou canst not.
This will I tell my master.
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 caused 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 valor, men hang and drown
Their proper selves.
You fools, I and my fellows
Are ministers of Fate. The elements
Of whom your swords are tempered may as well
Wound the loud winds or with bemocked-at stabs
Kill the still-closing waters as diminish
One dowl 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,
Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it,
Him and his innocent child, for which foul deed,
The powers—delaying, not forgetting—have
Incensed 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
Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls
Upon your heads—is nothing but heart’s sorrow
And a clear life ensuing.
What would my potent master? Here I am.
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?
Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?
Ay, my commander. When I presented Ceres,
I thought to have told thee of it, but I feared
Lest I might anger thee.
I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking,
So full of valor that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces, beat the ground
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor,
At which, like unbacked colts, they pricked their
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses
As they smelt music. So I charmed their ears
That, calf-like, they my lowing followed through
Toothed briers, sharp furzes, pricking gorse, and
Which entered their frail shins. At last I left them
I’ th’ filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,
There dancing up to th’ chins, that the foul lake
O’erstunk their feet.
Silver! There it goes, Silver!
On the sixth hour, at which time, my lord,
You said our work should cease.
In the same fashion as you gave in charge,
Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,
In the line grove which weather-fends your cell.
They cannot budge till your release. The King,
His brother, and yours abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly
Him that you termed, sir, the good old Lord
His tears runs down his beard like winter’s drops
From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.
Mine would, sir, were I human.
Where the bee sucks, there suck I.
In a cowslip’s bell I lie.
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat’s back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bow.
I drink the air before me, and return
Or ere your pulse twice beat.
Sir, all this service
Have I done since I went.
an inhabitant of the island servant to Prospero
There’s wood enough within.
As wicked dew as e’er my mother brushed
With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen
Drop on you both. A southwest blow on you
And blister you all o’er.
I must eat my dinner.
This island’s mine by Sycorax, my mother,
Which thou tak’st from me. When thou cam’st first,
Thou strok’st me and made much of me, wouldst
Water with berries in ’t, and teach me how
To name the bigger light and how the less,
That burn by day and night. And then I loved thee,
And showed thee all the qualities o’ th’ isle,
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and
Cursed be I that did so! All the charms
Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you,
For I am all the subjects that you have,
Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest o’ th’ island.
O ho, O ho! Would ’t had been done!
Thou didst prevent me. I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.
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!
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.
All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him
By inchmeal 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,
Sometimes 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. 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.
The spirit torments me. O!
Do not torment me, prithee. I’ll bring my
wood home faster.
Thou dost me yet but little hurt. Thou wilt
anon; I know it by thy trembling. Now Prosper
works upon thee.
These be fine things, an if they be not
sprites. That’s a brave god and bears celestial liquor.
I will kneel to him.
I’ll swear upon that bottle to be thy true
subject, for the liquor is not earthly.
Hast thou not dropped from heaven?
I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee.
My mistress showed me thee, and thy dog, and thy
I’ll show thee every fertile inch o’ th’ island,
and I will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god.
I’ll kiss thy foot. I’ll swear myself thy subject.
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.
I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow,
And I with my long nails will dig thee pignuts,
Show thee a jay’s nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmoset. I’ll bring thee
To clustering filberts, and sometimes I’ll get thee
Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?
Farewell, master, farewell, farewell.
No more dams I’ll make for fish,
Nor fetch in firing
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,
How does thy Honor? Let me lick thy shoe. I’ll
not serve him; he is not valiant.
Lo, how he mocks me! Wilt thou let him, my
Lo, lo again! Bite him to death, I prithee.
I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased
to harken once again to the suit I made to thee?
As I told thee before, I am subject
to a tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath
cheated me of the island.
Thou liest, thou jesting monkey,
thou. I would my valiant master would
destroy thee. I do not lie.
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.
Thou shalt be lord of it, and I’ll serve thee.
Yea, yea, my lord. I’ll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.
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 naught but brine, for I’ll not show him
Where the quick freshes are.
Beat him enough. After a little time
I’ll beat him too.
Why, as I told thee, ’tis a custom with him
I’ th’ afternoon to sleep. There thou mayst brain him,
Having first seized his books, or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his weasand 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.
Ay, lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant,
And bring thee forth brave brood.
Within this half hour will he be asleep.
Wilt thou destroy him then?
Thou mak’st me merry. I am full of pleasure.
Let us be jocund. Will you troll the catch
You taught me but whilere?
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 waked 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 waked
I cried to dream again.
When Prospero is destroyed.
Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole
may not hear a footfall. We now are near his cell.
Good my lord, give me thy favor still.
Be patient, for the prize I’ll bring thee to
Shall hoodwink this mischance. Therefore speak
All’s hushed as midnight yet.
Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here,
This is the mouth o’ th’ cell. No noise, and enter.
Do that good mischief which may make this island
Thine own forever, and I, thy Caliban,
For aye thy foot-licker.
Let it alone, thou fool. It is but trash.
The dropsy drown this fool! What do you mean
To dote thus on such luggage? Let ’t alone,
And do the murder first. If he awake,
From toe to crown he’ll fill our skins with pinches,
Make us strange stuff.
I will have none on ’t. We shall lose our time
And all be turned to barnacles or to apes
With foreheads villainous low.
O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed! How
fine my master is! I am afraid he will chastise me.
I shall be pinched to death.
Ay, that I will, and I’ll be wise hereafter
And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass
Was I to take this drunkard for a god,
And worship this dull fool!
Good boatswain, have care. Where’s the Master?
Play the men.
You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
Married my daughter there, for coming thence
My son is lost, and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy removed
I ne’er again shall see her.—O, thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?
So is the dear’st o’ th’ loss.
Prithee, no more. Thou dost talk nothing to me.
What, all so soon asleep? I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts. I find
They are inclined to do so.
Thank you. Wondrous heavy.
Why, how now, ho! Awake? Why are you drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking?
Lead off this ground, and let’s make further search
For my poor son.
Old lord, I cannot blame thee.
Who am myself attached 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 drowned
Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.
What harmony is this? My good friends, hark.
Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?
I cannot too much muse
Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound,
Although they want the use of tongue—a kind
Of excellent dumb discourse.
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.
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, pronounced
The name of Prosper. It did bass my trespass.
Therefor my son i’ th’ ooze is bedded, and
I’ll seek him deeper than e’er plummet sounded,
And with him there lie mudded.
Whe’er thou be’st he or no,
Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me
(As late I have been) I not know. Thy pulse
Beats as of flesh and blood; and since I saw thee,
Th’ affliction of my mind amends, with which
I fear a madness held me. This must crave,
An if this be at all, a most strange story.
Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreat
Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should
Be living and be here?
If thou be’st Prospero,
Give us particulars of thy preservation,
How thou hast met us here, whom three hours since
Were wracked upon this shore, where I have lost—
How sharp the point of this remembrance is!—
My dear son Ferdinand.
Irreparable is the loss, and patience
Says it is past her cure.
O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,
The King and Queen there! That they were, I wish
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed
Where my son lies!—When did you lose your
If this prove
A vision of the island, one dear son
Shall I twice lose.
Now, all the
Of a glad father compass thee about!
Arise, and say how thou cam’st here.
What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?
Your eld’st acquaintance cannot be three hours.
Is she the goddess that hath severed us
And brought us thus together?
I am hers.
But, O, how oddly will it sound that I
Must ask my child forgiveness!
Give me your
Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart
That doth not wish you joy!
These are not natural events. They strengthen
From strange to stranger.—Say, how came you
This is as strange a maze as e’er men trod,
And there is in this business more than nature
Was ever conduct of. Some oracle
Must rectify our knowledge.
Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?
And Trinculo is reeling ripe. Where should they
Find this grand liquor that hath gilded ’em?
How cam’st thou in this pickle?
This is as strange a thing as e’er I looked on.
Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.
To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely.
duke of Milan and Prospero’s brother
Where is the Master, boatswain?
Hang, cur, hang, you whoreson, insolent
noisemaker! We are less afraid to be drowned than
We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards.
This wide-chopped rascal—would thou
mightst lie drowning the washing of ten tides!
Let’s all sink wi’ th’ King.
The visitor will not give him o’er so.
Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue.
Which, of he or Adrian,
for a good wager, first begins to crow?
Temperance was a delicate wench.
Or as ’twere perfumed by a fen.
True, save means to live.
The ground indeed is tawny.
If but one of his pockets could speak, would
it not say he lies?
Widow? A pox o’ that! How came that widow
in? Widow Dido!
His word is more than the miraculous harp.
What impossible matter will he make easy
And sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring
forth more islands.
And the rarest that e’er came there.
O, widow Dido? Ay, widow Dido.
That sort was well fished for.
He’d sow ’t with nettle seed.
The latter end of his commonwealth forgets
None, man, all idle: whores and knaves.
What a blow was there given!
Nay, good my lord, be not angry.
We two, my lord,
Will guard your person while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
It is the quality o’ th’ climate.
Nor I. My spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent.
They dropped as by a thunderstroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian, O, what might—? No more.
And yet methinks I see it in thy face
What thou shouldst be. Th’ occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
Do you not hear me speak?
Thou let’st thy fortune sleep, die rather, wink’st
Whiles thou art waking.
I am more serious than my custom. You
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do
Trebles thee o’er.
I’ll teach you how to flow.
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.
Although this lord of weak remembrance—this,
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earthed—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 undrowned
As he that sleeps here swims.
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 drowned?
Then tell me,
Who’s the next heir of Naples?
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-swallowed, 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.
A space whose ev’ry cubit
Seems to cry out How shall that ClaribelMeasure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis
And let Sebastian wake. Say this were death
That now hath seized 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?
And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?
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.
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 forever; 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.
And when I rear my hand, do you the like
To fall it on Gonzalo.
Then let us both be sudden.
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.
I am right glad that he’s so out of hope.
Do not, for one repulse, forgo the purpose
That you resolved t’ effect.
Let it be tonight;
For now they are oppressed with travel, they
Will not nor cannot use such vigilance
As when they are fresh.
I’ll believe both;
And what does else want credit, come to me
And I’ll be sworn ’tis true. Travelers ne’er did lie,
Though fools at home condemn ’em.
Very like. One of them
Is a plain fish and no doubt marketable.
A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,
He receives comfort like
Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit.
By and by it will strike.
You have taken it wiselier than I meant you
Ay, and a subtle, as he most learnedly
As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Of that there’s none, or little.
With an eye of green in ’t.
No, he doth but mistake the truth totally.
As many vouched rarities are.
Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.
’Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper
well in our return.
What if he had said widower Aeneas too?
Good Lord, how you take it!
He hath raised the wall, and houses too.
I think he will carry this island home in his
pocket and give it his son for an apple.
Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,
That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,
But rather lose her to an African,
Where she at least is banished from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on ’t.
You were kneeled to and importuned otherwise
By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weighed between loathness and obedience at
Which end o’ th’ beam should bow. We have lost
I fear, forever. Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business’ making
Than we bring men to comfort them.
The fault’s your own.
Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
Yet he would be king on ’t.
No marrying ’mong his subjects?
An it had not fallen flatlong.
We would so, and then go a-batfowling.
Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it.
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.
What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find
Not myself disposed to sleep.
I do, and surely
It is a sleepy language, and thou speak’st
Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open—standing, speaking, moving—
And yet so fast asleep.
Thou dost snore distinctly.
There’s meaning in thy snores.
Well, I am standing water.
Do so. To ebb
Hereditary sloth instructs me.
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.
I have no hope
That he’s undrowned.
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.
You did supplant your brother Prospero.
But, for your conscience?
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.
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.
The next advantage
Will we take throughly.
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.
No matter, since
They have left their viands behind, for we have
Will ’t please you taste of what is here?
But one fiend at a time,
I’ll fight their legions o’er.
What things are these, my Lord Antonio?
Will money buy ’em?
He is drunk now. Where had he wine?
councillor to Alonso and friend to Prospero
Good, yet remember whom thou hast
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 is miserable.
I’ll warrant him for drowning, though the
ship were no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky
as an unstanched wench.
The King and Prince at prayers. Let’s assist
them, for our case is as theirs.
He’ll be hanged yet, though every drop of
water swear against it and gape at wid’st to glut him.
Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea
for an acre of barren ground: long heath, brown
furze, anything. The wills above be done, but I
would fain die a dry death.
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,
The masters of some merchant, and the merchant
Have just our theme of woe. But for the miracle—
I mean our preservation—few in millions
Can speak like us. Then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.
When every grief is entertained that’s offered,
comes to th’ entertainer—
Dolor comes to him indeed. You have spoken
truer than you purposed.
Well, I have done. But yet—
Here is everything advantageous to life.
How lush and lusty the grass looks! How
But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost
That our garments, being, as they were,
drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their
freshness and gloss, being rather new-dyed than
stained with salt water.
Methinks our garments are now as fresh as
when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage
of the King’s fair daughter Claribel to the King of
Not since widow Dido’s time.
This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.
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
Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as
the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.
When I wore it at your daughter’s
My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness
And time to speak it in. You rub the sore
When you should bring the plaster.
It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.
Had I plantation of this isle, my lord—
And were the King on ’t, what would I do?
I’ th’ commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things, for no kind of traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;
No occupation; all men idle, all,
And women too, but innocent and pure;
All things in common nature should produce
Without sweat or endeavor; treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth
Of its own kind all foison, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.
I would with such perfection govern, sir,
T’ excel the Golden Age.
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.
Who in this kind of merry fooling am
nothing to you. So you may continue, and laugh at
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.
No, I warrant you, I will not adventure my
discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep?
For I am very heavy.
Now, good angels preserve the
Upon mine honor, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me.
I shaked you, sir, and cried. As mine eyes opened,
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.
Heavens keep him from these beasts,
For he is, sure, i’ th’ island.
By ’r lakin, I can go no further, sir.
My old bones aches. Here’s a maze trod indeed
Through forthrights and meanders. By your
I needs must rest me.
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.
Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,
Who would believe that there were mountaineers
Dewlapped like bulls, whose throats had hanging at
Wallets of flesh? Or that there were such men
Whose heads stood in their breasts? Which now we
Each putter-out of five for one will bring us
Good warrant of.
I’ th’ name of something holy, sir, why stand you
In this strange stare?
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.
All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement
Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us
Out of this fearful country!
Whether this be
Or be not, I’ll not swear.
I have inly wept
Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you
And on this couple drop a blessèd crown,
For it is you that have chalked forth the way
Which brought us hither.
Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue
Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice
Beyond a common joy, and set it down
With gold on lasting pillars: in one voyage
Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis,
And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife
Where he himself was lost; Prospero his dukedom
In a poor isle; and all of us ourselves
When no man was his own.
Be it so. Amen.
O, look, sir, look, sir, here is more of us.
I prophesied if a gallows were on land,
This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy,
That swear’st grace o’erboard, not an oath on
Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?
|courtiers in attendance on Alonso
Though this island seem to be desert—
Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible—
It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate
The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Tunis was never graced before with such a
paragon to their queen.
Widow Dido, said you? You
make me study of that. She was of Carthage, not of
Sir, he may live.
I saw him beat the surges under him
And ride upon their backs. He trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoll’n that met him. His bold head
’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To th’ shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bowed,
As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt
He came alive to land.
servant to Alonso
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 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. Legged 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 thunderbolt.
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 bedfellows. I will here shroud till the
dregs of the storm be past.
I should know that voice. It should be—but
he is drowned, and these are devils. O, defend me!
Stephano! If thou be’st Stephano, touch me
and speak to me, for I am Trinculo—be not
afeard—thy good friend Trinculo.
I took him to be killed with a thunderstroke.
But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I
hope now thou art not drowned. Is the storm
overblown? I hid me under the dead mooncalf’s
gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living,
Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans scaped!
Swum ashore, man, like a duck. I can swim
like a duck, I’ll be sworn.
O Stephano, hast any more of this?
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!
By this light, a most perfidious and drunken
monster. When ’s god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle.
I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed
monster. A most scurvy monster. I could
find in my heart to beat him—
But that the poor monster’s in drink. An
A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder
of a poor drunkard.
A howling monster, a drunken monster.
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 brained like us, the state
Where should they be set else? He were a
brave monster indeed if they were set in his tail.
Your lieutenant, if you list. He’s no
Nor go neither. But you’ll lie like dogs, and
yet say nothing neither.
Thou liest, most ignorant monster. I am in
case to justle a constable. Why, thou debauched
fish, thou! Was there ever man a coward that hath
drunk so much sack as I today? Wilt thou tell a
monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a
Lord, quoth he? That a monster should be
such a natural!
Why, what did I? I did nothing. I’ll go
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!
This is the tune of our catch played by the
picture of Nobody.
The sound is going away. Let’s follow it, and
after do our work.
Monster, I do smell all horse piss, at which
my nose is in great indignation.
Thou wert but a lost monster.
Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool!
That’s more to me than my wetting. Yet this
is your harmless fairy, monster!
O King Stephano, O
peer, O worthy Stephano, look what a wardrobe
here is for thee!
Oho, monster, we know what belongs to a
frippery. O King
Do, do. We steal by line and level, an ’t like
Monster, come, put some lime upon your
fingers, and away with the rest.
If these be true spies which I wear in my
head, here’s a goodly sight.
I have been in such a pickle since I saw you
last that I fear me will never out of my bones. I
shall not fear flyblowing.
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.The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
The gunner and his mate,
Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
But none of us cared for Kate.
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor Go hang!
She loved not the savor 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.
What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do
you put tricks upon ’s with savages and men of Ind?
Ha? I have not scaped drowning to be afeard now
of your four legs, for it hath been said As proper aman as ever went on four legs cannot make him
give ground, and it shall be said so again while
Stephano breathes at’ nostrils.
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
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.
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
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
Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy,
this is a devil, and no monster! I will leave him; I
have no long spoon.
If thou be’st 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 mooncalf? Can
he vent Trinculos?
Prithee, do not turn me about. My stomach
is not constant.
How didst thou scape? How
cam’st thou hither? Swear by this bottle how thou
cam’st hither—I escaped 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.
Here. Swear then how thou
Here, kiss the book.
Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made
like a goose.
The whole butt, man. My cellar is in a rock
by th’ seaside, where my wine is hid.—How now,
mooncalf, how does thine ague?
Out o’ th’ moon, I do assure thee. I was the
man i’ th’ moon when time was.
Come, swear to that. Kiss the book. I will
furnish it anon with new contents. Swear.
Come on, then. Down, and swear.
I prithee now, lead the way without any
more talking.—Trinculo, the King and all our
company else being drowned, we will inherit here.
—Here, bear my bottle.—Fellow Trinculo, we’ll
fill him by and by again.
O brave monster! Lead the way.
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.
Drink, servant monster, when I bid thee.
Thy eyes are almost set in thy head.
My man-monster hath drowned 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.
We’ll not run, Monsieur Monster.
Mooncalf, speak once in thy life, if thou
be’st a good mooncalf.
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
Marry, will I. Kneel and repeat it. I will
stand, and so shall Trinculo.
Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in ’s
tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your
Mum then, and no more.
How now shall this be compassed? Canst
thou bring me to the party?
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
stockfish of thee.
Didst thou not say he lied?
Do I so? Take thou that.
As you like this, give me the lie another time.
Now forward with your tale.
Prithee, stand further off.
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?
Give me thy hand. I am sorry I beat thee.
But while thou liv’st, keep a good tongue in thy
At thy request, monster, I will do reason,
any reason.—Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.Flout ’em and cout ’em
And scout ’em and flout ’em!
Thought is free.
If thou be’st a
man, show thyself in thy likeness. If thou be’st a
devil, take ’t as thou list.
He that dies pays all debts.—I defy thee!—
Mercy upon us.
This will prove a brave kingdom to me,
where I shall have my music for nothing.
That shall be by and by. I remember the
Lead, monster. We’ll follow.—I would I
could see this taborer. He lays it on. Wilt come?
Monster, your fairy, which you say is a
harmless fairy, has done little better than played the
jack with us.
So is mine.—Do you hear, monster. If I
should take a displeasure against you, look you—
There is not only disgrace and dishonor in
that, monster, but an infinite loss.
I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er
ears for my labor.
Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody
Put off that gown, Trinculo. By this hand,
I’ll have that gown.
Be you quiet, monster.—Mistress Line, is
not this my jerkin?
Now is the jerkin under the line.—Now, jerkin, you
are like to lose your hair and prove a bald jerkin.
I thank thee for that jest. Here’s a garment
for ’t. Wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king
of this country. Steal by line and level is an excellent
pass of pate. There’s another garment for ’t.
Monster, lay to your fingers. Help to bear
this away where my hogshead of wine is, or I’ll turn
you out of my kingdom. Go to, carry this.
Every man shift for all the rest, and let no
man take care for himself, for all is but fortune.
Coraggio, bully monster, coraggio.
O, touch me not! I am not Stephano, but a
I should have been a sore one, then.
Good, speak to th’ mariners. Fall to ’t yarely,
or we run ourselves aground. Bestir, bestir!
Here, master. What cheer?
Heigh, my hearts! Cheerly, cheerly, my
hearts! Yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to th’
Master’s whistle.—Blow till thou burst thy wind, if
Do you not hear him? You mar our labor.
Keep your cabins. You do assist the storm.
When the sea is. Hence! What cares these
roarers for the name of king? To cabin! Silence!
Trouble us not.
None that I more love than myself. You are
a councillor; if you can command these elements
to silence, 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!
Down with the topmast! Yare! Lower, lower!
Bring her to try wi’ th’ main course.
A plague upon this howling! They are
louder than the weather or our office.
Yet again? What do you here? Shall we give o’er and
drown? Have you a mind to sink?
Lay her ahold, ahold! Set her two courses.
Off to sea again! Lay her off!
What, must our mouths be cold?
The best news is that we have safely found
Our king and company. The next: our ship,
Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split,
Is tight and yare and bravely rigged as when
We first put out to sea.
If I did think, sir, I were well awake,
I’d strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep
And—how, we know not—all clapped under
Where, but even now, with strange and several
Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains,
And more diversity of sounds, all horrible,
We were awaked, straightway at liberty,
Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld
Our royal, good, and gallant ship, our master
Cap’ring to eye her. On a trice, so please you,
Even in a dream were we divided from them
And were brought moping hither.
All lost! To prayers, to prayers! All lost!
Players who, as spirits, take the names of Iris, Ceres, Juno, Nymphs, and Reapers
in Prospero’s masque, and who, in other scenes, take the names of "islanders" and
of hunting dogs
Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and peas;
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
And flat meads thatched with stover, them to keep;
Thy banks with pionèd and twillèd brims,
Which spongy April at thy hest betrims
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy
Whose shadow the dismissèd bachelor loves,
Being lass-lorn; thy poll-clipped 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.
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.
A contract of true love to celebrate,
And some donation freely to estate
On the blest lovers.
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
Some wanton charm upon this man and maid,
Whose vows are that no bed-right shall be paid
Till Hymen’s torch be lighted—but in vain.
Mars’s hot minion is returned again;
Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,
Swears he will shoot no more, but play with
And be a boy right out.
You nymphs, called naiads of the windring brooks,
With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks,
Leave your crisp channels and on this green land
Answer your summons, Juno does command.
Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
A contract of true love. Be not too late.
You sunburned sicklemen, of August weary,
Come hither from the furrow and be merry.
Make holiday: your rye-straw hats put on,
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
In country footing.
Hail, many-colored messenger, that ne’er
Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;
Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers
Diffusest honey drops, refreshing showers;
And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown
My bosky acres and my unshrubbed down,
Rich scarf to my proud earth. Why hath thy queen
Summoned me hither to this short-grassed green?
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 scandaled company
I have forsworn.
Highest queen of state,
Great Juno comes. I know her by her gait.
Earth’s increase, foison plenty,
Barns and garners 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.
How does my bounteous sister? Go with me
To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be
And honored in their issue.
Honor, riches, marriage-blessing,
Long continuance, and increasing,
Hourly joys be still upon you.
Juno sings her blessings on you.