  The front of the stage is opened, and the band of twenty-four violins, with the harpsicals and theorbos which accompany the voices, are placed between the pit and the stage. While the overture is playing, the curtain rises, and discovers a new frontispiece, joined to the great pilasters, on each side of the stage. This frontispiece is a noble arch, supported by large wreathed columns of the Corinthian order; the wreathings of the columns are beautified with roses wound round them, and several Cupids flying about them. On the cornice, just over the capitals, sits on either side a figure, with a trumpet in one hand, and a palm in the other, representing Fame. A little farther, on the same cornice, on each side of a compass-pediment, lie a lion and a unicorn, the supporters of the royal arms of England. In the middle of the arch are several angels, holding the king's arms, as if they were placing them in the midst of that compass-pediment. Behind this is the scene, which represents a thick cloudy sky, a very rocky coast, and a tempestuous sea in perpetual agitation. This tempest (supposed to be raised by magick) has many dreadful objects in it, as several spirits in horrid shapes flying down amongst the sailors, then rising and crossing in the air. And when the ship is sinking, the whole house is darkened, and a shower of fire falls upon them. This is accompanied with lightning, and several claps of thunder, to the end of the storm. Enter Mustacho and Ventoso. Vent. What a sea comes in! Must. A foaming sea; we shall have foul weather. Enter Trincalo. Trinc. The scud comes against the wind, 'twill blow hard. Enter Stephano. Steph. Boatswain! Trinc. Here, master, what say you? Steph. Ill weather; let's off to sea. Must. Let's have sea room enough, and then let it blow the devil's head off. Steph. Boy! Boy! Enter Cabin Boy. Boy. Yaw, yaw, here, master. Steph. Give the pilot a dram of the bottle. Enter Mariners, and pass over the stage. Trinc. Bring the cable to the capstorm. Enter Alonso, Antonio, and Gonzalo. Alon. Good boatswain, have a care; where's the master? Play the men. Trinc. Pray keep below. Anto. Where's the master, boatswain? Trinc. Do you not hear him? You hinder us: Keep your cabins, you help the storm. Gonz. Nay, good friend, be patient. Trinc. Ay, when the sea is: Hence! what care these roarers for the name of duke? To cabin; silence; trouble us not. Gonz. Good friend, remember whom thou hast aboard. Trinc. None that I love more than myself: You are a counsellor; if you can advise these elements to silence, use your wisdom: if yon cannot, make yourself ready in the cabin for the ill hour. Cheerly, good hearts! out of our way, sirs. Gonz. I have great comfort from this fellow; methinks his complexion is perfect gallows: stand fast, good fate, to his hanging; make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own does little advantage us; if he be not born to be hanged, we shall be drowned. Enter Trincalo and Stephano. Trinc. Up aloft, lads. Come, reef both topsails. Steph. Make haste, let's weigh, let's weigh, and off to sea. Enter two Mariners, and pass over the stage. Trinc. Hands down! Man your main capstorm. Enter Mustacho and Ventoso at the other door. Must. Up aloft! and man your seere capstorm. Vent. My lads, my hearts of gold, get in your capstorm-bar. Hoa up, hoa up! Enter Stephano. Steph. Hold on well! hold on well! Nip well there; quarter-master, get's more nippers. Enter two Mariners, and pass over again. Trinc. Turn out, turn out all hands to capstorm. You dogs, is this a time to sleep? Lubbord. Heave together, lads. Must. within. Our vial's broke. Vent. within. 'Tis but our vial-block has given way. Come, heave, lads! we are fixed again. Heave together, bullies. Enter Stephano. Steph. Cut down the hammocks! cut down the hammocks! come, my lads: Come, bullies, chear up! heave lustily. The anchor's apeak. Trinc. Is the anchor apeak? Steph. Is a weigh! is a weigh. Trinc. Up aloft, my lads, upon the fore-castle; cut the anchor, cut him. All within. Haul catt, haul catt, haul catt, haul: Haul catt, haul. Below. Steph. Aft, aft, and loose the mizen! Trinc. Get the mizen-tack aboard. Haul aft mizen-sheet. Enter Mustacho. Must. Loose the main-top sail! Steph. Let him alone, there's too much wind. Trinc. Loose fore-sail! haul aft both sheets! trim her right before the wind. Aft! aft! lads, and hale up the mizen here. Must. A mackrel-gale, master. Steph. within. Port hard, port! the wind veers forward, bring the tack aboard-port is. Starboard, starboard, a little steady; now steady, keep her thus, no nearer you cannot come, 'till the sails are loose. Enter Ventoso. Vent. Some hands down: The guns are loose. Trinc. Try the pump, try the pump. Enter Mustacho at the other door. Must. O master! six foot water in hold. Steph. Clap the helm hard aweather! flat, flat, flat-in the fore-sheet there. Trinc. Over-haul your fore-bowling. Steph. Brace in the larboard. Trinc. A curse upon this howling, [A great cry within.] They are louder than the weather. Enter Antonio and Gonzalo. Yet again, what do you here? Shall we give over, and drown? Have you a mind to sink? Gonz. A pox on your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, uncharitable dog. Trinc. Work you then, and be poxed. Anto. Hang, cur, hang, you whorson insolent noise-maker! We are less afraid to be drowned than you are. Trinc. Ease the fore-brace a little. Gonz. I'll warrant him for drowning, though the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as leaky as an unstanched wench. Enter Alonzo and Ferdinand. Ferd. For myself I care not, but your loss brings a thousand deaths to me. Alon. O name not me, I am grown old, my son; I now am tedious to the world, and that, By use, is so to me: But, Ferdinand, I grieve my subjects' loss in thee: Alas! I grieve my subjects' loss in thee: Alas! I suffer justly for my crimes, but why [A cry within. Hark! farewell, my son, a long farewell! Enter Trincalo, Mustacho, and Ventoso. Trinc. What, must our mouths be cold then? Vent. All's lost. To prayers, to prayers. Gonz. The duke and prince are gone within to prayers. Let's assist them. Must. Nay, we may e'en pray too, our Case is now alike. Ant. Mercy upon us! we split, we split! Gonz. Let's all sink with the duke, and the young prince. Enter Stephano and Trincalo. Trinc. The ship is sinking. Steph. Run her ashore! Trinc. Luff! luff! or we are all lost! there's a rock upon the starboard-bow. Steph. She strikes, she strikes! All shift for themselves. SCENE II.—
Enter Prospero and Miranda. Prosp. Miranda, where's your sister? Mir. I left her looking from the pointed rock, At the walk's end, on the huge beat of waters. Prosp. It is a dreadful object. Mir. If by your art, My dearest father, you have put them in This roar, allay them quickly. Prosp. I have so ordered, That not one creature in the ship is lost: I have done nothing but in care of thee, My daughter, and thy pretty sister: You both are ignorant of what you are, Not knowing whence I am, nor that I'm more Than Prospero, master of a narrow cell, And thy unhappy father. Mir. I ne'er endeavoured To know more than you were pleased to tell me. Prosp. I should inform thee farther. Mir. You often, sir, began to tell me what I am, But then you stopt. Prosp. The hour's now come; Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time, before we came into this cell? I do not think thou canst, for then thou wert not Full three years old. Mir. Certainly I can, sir. Prosp. Tell me the image then of any thing, Which thou dost keep in thy remembrance still. Mir. Sir, had I not four or five women once, that tended me? Prosp. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda: What seest thou else, In the dark back-ward, and abyss of time? If thou rememberest aught, ere thou cam'st here, Then how thou cam'st thou mayest remember too. Mir. Sir, that I do not. Prosp. Fifteen years since, Miranda, Thy father was the duke of Milan, and A prince of power. Mir. Sir, are not you my father? Prosp. Thy mother was all virtue, and she said Thou wast my daughter, and thy sister too. Mir. O heavens! what foul play had we, that We hither came? or was't a blessing that we did? Prosp. Both, both, my girl. Mir. But, sir, I pray, proceed. Prosp. My brother, and thy uncle, called Antonio, To whom I trusted then the manage of my state, While I was wrapped with secret studies,—that false uncle, Having attained the craft of granting suits, And of denying them; whom to advance, Or lop, for over-topping,—soon was grown The ivy, which did hide my princely trunk, And sucked my verdure out: Thou attend'st not. Mir. O good sir, I do. Prosp. I thus neglecting worldly ends, and bent To closeness, and the bettering of my mind, Waked in my false brother an evil nature: He did believe He was indeed the duke, because he then Did execute the outward face of sovereignty—— Do'st thou still mark me? Mir. Your story would cure deafness. Prosp. This false duke Needs would be absolute in Milan, and confederate With Savoy's duke, to give him tribute, and To do him homage. Mir. False man! Prosp. This duke of Savoy, being an enemy To me inveterate, strait grants my brother's suit; And on a night, mated to his design, Antonio opened the gates of Milan, and In the dead of darkness hurried me thence, With thy young sister, and thy crying self. Mir. But wherefore did they not that hour destroy us? Prosp. They durst not, girl, in Milan, for the love My people bore me; in short, they hurried us Away to Savoy, and thence aboard a bark at Nissa's port, Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared A rotten carcase of a boat, not rigged, No tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively had quit it. Mir. Alack! what trouble Was I then to you? Prosp. Thou and thy sister were Two cherubims, which did preserve me: You both Did smile, infused with fortitude from heaven. Mir. How came we ashore? Prosp. By providence divine. Some food we had, and some fresh water, which A nobleman of Savoy, called Gonzalo, Appointed master of that black design, Gave us; with rich garments, and all necessaries, Which since have steaded much; And of his gentleness (Knowing I loved my books) he furnished me, From mine own library, with volumes, which I prize above my dukedom. Mir. Would I might see that man! Prosp. Here in this island we arrived, and here Have I your tutor been. But by my skill I find, that my mid-heaven doth depend On a most happy star, whose influence If I now court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop: Here cease more questions; Thou art inclined to sleep: 'Tis a good dulness, And give it way; I know thou can'st not chuse. [She falls asleep. Come away, my spirit: I am ready now; approach, My Ariel, come. Enter Ariel. Ariel. All hail, great master, grave Sir, hail! I come to answer thy best pleasure, Be it to fly, to swim, to shoot into the fire, To ride into the curled clouds; to thy strong bidding Task Ariel, and all his qualities. Prosp. Hast thou, spirit, performed to point The tempest, that I bade thee? Ariel. To every article. I boarded the duke's ship; now on the beak, Now in the waste, the deck, in every cabin, I flamed amazement; and sometimes I seemed To burn in many places; on the top-mast, The yards, and bow-sprit, I did flame distinctly; Nay, once I rained a shower of fire upon them. Prosp. My brave spirit!— Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Did not infect his reason? Ariel. Not a soul, But felt a fever of the mind, and played Some tricks of desperation; all, But mariners, plunged in the foaming brine, And quit the vessel: The duke's son, Ferdinand, With hair upstaring, (more like reeds than hair) Was the first man that leaped; cried, Hell is empty! And all the devils are here! Prosp. Why, that's my spirit!— But, was not this nigh shore? Ariel. Close by, my master. Prosp. But, Ariel, are they safe? Ariel. Not a hair perished. In troops I have dispersed them round this isle: The duke's son I have landed by himself, Ariel. Past the mid season. Prosp. At least two glasses. The time 'tween six and now must by us both Be spent most preciously. Ariel. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, let me remember Thee what thou hast promised, which is not yet Performed me. Prosp. How now, moody! What is't thou canst demand? Ariel. My liberty. Prosp. Before the time be out?—no more! Ariel. I pr'ythee, Remember I have done thee faithful service; Told thee no lies; made thee no mistakings; Served without or grudge, or grumblings; Prosp. Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? Ariel. No. Prosp. Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep; To run against the sharp wind of the north; To do my business in the veins of the earth, When it is baked with frost. Ariel. I do not, sir. Prosp. Thou liest, malignant thing!—Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age and envy, Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her? Ariel. No, sir. Prosp. Thou hast! Where was she born? Speak, tell me. Ariel. Sir, in Argier. Prosp. Oh, was she so!—I must, Once every month, recount what thou hast been, Which thou forgettest. This damned Witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries Too terrible to enter human hearing, From Argier, thou know'st, was banished: But, for one thing she did, They would not take her life.—Is not this true? Ariel. Ay, sir. Prosp. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my slave, As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant; And, 'cause thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorred commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers, (In her unmitigable rage) into a cloven pine; Within whose rift imprisoned, thou didst painfully Remain a dozen years, within which space she died, And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans, As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this isle (Save for two brats, which she did litter here, The brutish Caliban, and his twin-sister, Two freckled hag-born whelps) not honoured with A human shape. Ariel. Yes; Caliban her son, and Sycorax his sister. Prosp. Dull thing! I say so.—He, That Caliban, and she, that Sycorax, Whom I now keep in service. Thou best know'st What torment I did find thee in; thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment To lay upon the damned, which Sycorax Could ne'er again undo: It was my art, When I arrived and heard thee, that made the pine To gape, and let thee out. Ariel. I thank thee, master. Prosp. If thou more murmurest, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till thou Hast howled away twelve winters more. Ariel. Pardon, master; I will be correspondent to command, And be a gentle spirit. Prosp. Do so; and after two days I'll discharge thee. Ariel. Thanks, my great master. But I have yet one request. Prosp. What's that, my spirit? Ariel. I know that this day's business is important, Requiring too much toil for one alone. I have a gentle spirit for my love, Who, twice seven years has waited for my freedom: Let it appear, it will assist me much, And we with mutual joy shall entertain Each other. This, I beseech you, grant me. Prosp. You shall have your desire. Ariel. That's my noble master.—Milcha! Milc. I am here, my love. Ariel. Thou art free! Welcome, my dear!— What shall we do? Say, say, what shall we do? Prosp. Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible To every eye-ball else. Hence, with diligence; Anon thou shalt know more. [They both fly up, and cross in the air. Thou hast slept well, my child. [To Mir. Mir. The sadness of your story put heaviness in me. Prosp. Shake it off.—Come on, I'll now call Caliban, my slave, who never yields us a kind answer. Mir. 'Tis a creature, sir, I do not love to look on. Prosp. But, as it is, we cannot miss him: He does make our fire, fetch in our wood, and serve in offices that profit us.—What ho, slave! Caliban! thou earth, thou, speak! Calib. [within.] There's wood enough within. Prosp. Thou poisonous slave! got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! Enter Caliban. Calib. As wicked dew, as e'er my mother brushed with raven's feather from unwholesome fens, drop on you both! A south-west wind blow on you, and blister you all o'er! Prosp. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath up: Urchins shall prick thee till thou bleed'st: Thou shalt be pinched as thick as honey-combs, Calib. I must eat my dinner: This island's mine by Sycorax my mother, which thou took'st from me. When thou earnest first, thou stroak'dst me, and madest much of me; would'st give me 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 of the isle, the fresh-springs, brine-pits, barren places, and fertile. Cursed be I, that I did so! All the charms of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on thee! for I am all the subjects that thou hast. I first was mine own lord; and here thou stayest me in this hard rock, while thou dost keep from me the rest o'the island. Prosp. Thou most lying slave, whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee, filth as thou art! with human care; and lodged thee in mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate the honour of my children. Calib. Oh, ho! oh, ho! would it had been done! Thou didst prevent me, I had peopled else this isle with Calibans. Prosp. Abhorred slave! who ne'er wouldst any print of goodness take, being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour one thing or other: When thou didst not, savage! know thy own meaning, but wouldst gabble like a thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes with words, which made them known.—But thy wild race (though thou didst learn) had that in't, which good natures could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou deservedly pent up into this rock. Calib. You taught me language; and my profit by it is, that I know to curse. The red botch rid you for learning me your language! Prosp. Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel, and be quick To answer other business.—Shrug'st thou, malice! If thou neglectest, or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps; Fill all thy bones with aches; make thee roar, That beasts shall tremble at thy din. Calib. No, pr'ythee! I must obey. His art is of such power, It would controul my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him. Prosp. So, slave, hence!
Dor. Oh, sister! what have I beheld! Mir. What is it moves you so? Dor. From yonder rock, As I my eyes cast down upon the seas, The whistling winds blew rudely on my face, And the waves roared; at first, I thought the war Had been between themselves, but straight I spied A huge great creature. Mir. O, you mean the ship? Dor. Is't not a creature then?—It seemed alive. Mir. But what of it? Dor. This floating ram did bear his horns above, All tied with ribbands, ruffling in the wind: Sometimes he nodded down his head a-while, And then the waves did heave him to the moon, He clambering to the top of all the billows; And then again he curtsied down so low, Mir. There all had perished, Had not my father's magic art relieved them.— But, sister, I have stranger news to tell you: In this great creature there were other creatures; And shortly we may chance to see that thing, Which you have heard my father call a man. Dor. But, what is that? For yet he never told me. Mir. I know no more than you:—But I have heard My father say, we women were made for him. Dor. What, that he should eat us, sister? Mir. No sure; you see my father is a man, and yet He does us good. I would he were not old. Dor. Methinks, indeed, it would be finer, if We two had two young fathers. Mir. No, sister, no: If they were young, my father Said, we must call them brothers. Dor. But, pray, how does it come, that we two are Not brothers then, and have not beards like him? Mir. Now I confess you pose me. Dor. How did he come to be our father too? Mir. I think he found us when we both were little, And grew within the ground. Dor. Why could he not find more of us? Pray, sister, Let you and I look up and down one day, To find some little ones for us to play with. Mir. Agreed; but now we must go in. This is The hour wherein my father's charm will work, Which seizes all who are in open air: Dor. And I, methinks, more long to see a man. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I.
Enter Stephano, Mustacho, and Ventoso. Vent. The runlet of brandy was a loving runlet, and floated after us out of pure pity. Must. This kind bottle, like an old acquaintance, swam after it. And this scollop-shell is all our plate now. Vent. 'Tis well we have found something since we landed. I pr'ythee fill a sup, and let it go round.— Where hast thou laid the runlet? Must. In the hollow of an old tree. Vent. Fill apace; we cannot live long in this barren island, and we may take a sup before death, as well as others drink at our funerals. Must. This is prize brandy; we steal custom, and it costs nothing. Let's have two rounds more. Vent. Master, what have you saved? Steph. Just nothing but myself. Vent. This works comfortably on a cold stomach. Steph. Fill us another round. Vent. Look! Mustacho weeps. Hang losses, as long as we have brandy left!—Pr'ythee leave weeping. Steph. He sheds his brandy out of his eyes: He shall drink no more. Must. This will be a doleful day with old Bess. She gave me a gilt nutmeg at parting; that's lost too: But, as you say, hang losses! Pr'ythee fill again. Vent. Beshrew thy heart, for putting me in mind of thy wife; I had not thought of mine else. Nature will shew itself, I must melt. I pr'ythee fill again: My wife's a good old jade, and has but one eye left; but she will weep out that too, when she hears that I am dead. Steph. 'Would you were both hanged, for putting me in thought of mine! Vent. But come, master, sorrow is dry: There's for you again. Steph. A mariner had e'en as good be a fish as a man, but for the comfort we get ashore. O! for an old dry wench, now I am wet. Must. Poor heart, that would soon make you dry again. But all is barren in this isle: Here we may lie at hull, till the wind blow nor' and by south, ere we can cry, a sail! a sail! a sight of a white apron: And, therefore, here's another sup to comfort us. Vent. This isle's our own, that's our comfort; for the duke, the prince, and all their train, are perished. Must. Our ship is sunk, and we can never get home again: We must e'en turn savages, and the next that catches his fellow may eat him. Vent. No, no, let us have a government; for if we live well and orderly, heaven will drive shipwrecks ashore to make us all rich: Therefore let us carry good consciences, and not eat one another. Steph. Whoever eats any of my subjects, I'll break out his teeth with my sceptre; for I was master at sea, and will be duke on land: You, Mustacho, have been my mate, and shall be my viceroy. Vent. When you are duke, you may chuse your viceroy; but I am a free subject in a new plantation, and will have no duke without my voice: And so fill me the other sup. Steph. [whispering.] Ventoso, dost thou hear, I will advance thee; pr'ythee, give me thy voice. Vent. I'll have no whisperings to corrupt the election; and, to show that I have no private ends, I declare aloud, that I will be viceroy, or I'll keep my voice for myself. Must. Stephano, hear me! I will speak for the people, because there are few, or rather none, in the isle, to speak for themselves. Know, then, that to prevent the farther shedding of christian blood, we are all content Ventoso shall be viceroy, upon condition I may be viceroy over him. Speak, good people, are you well agreed? what, no man answer? Well, you may take their silence for consent. Vent. You speak for the people, Mustacho! I'll speak for them, and declare generally with one voice, one and all, that there shall be no viceroy but the duke, unless I be he. Must. You declare for the people, who never saw your face? Cold iron shall decide it! Steph. Hold, loving subjects! We will have no civil war during our reign. I do hereby appoint you both to be my viceroys over the whole island. Both. Agreed, agreed! Enter Trincalo, with a great bottle, half drunk. Vent. How! Trincalo, our brave boatswain! Must. He reels: Can he be drunk with sea-water? Trinc. [sings.] I shall no more to sea, to sea, Here I shall die ashore.
Sings. The master, the swabber, the gunner, and I, The surgeon, and his mate, Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, But none of us cared for Kate. For she had a tongue with a twang, Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!— She loved not the savour of tar, nor of pitch, Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch. This is a scurvy tune too; but here's my comfort again. Steph. We have got another subject now: Welcome, welcome, into our dominions! Trinc. What subject, or what dominions? Here's old sack, boys; the king of good fellows can be no subject. I will be old Simon the king. Must. Ha, old boy! how didst thou scape? Trinc. Upon a butt of sack, boys, which the sailors threw overboard.—But are you alive, hoa! for I will tipple with no ghosts, till I'm dead. Thy hand, Mustacho, and thine, Ventoso; the storm has done its worst.—Stephano alive too! give thy boatswain thy hand, master. Vent. You must kiss it then; for I must tell you, we have chosen him duke, in a full assembly. Trinc. A duke! where? What's he duke of? Must. Of this island, man. Oh, Trincalo, we are all made: The island's empty; all's our own, boy; and we will speak to his grace for thee, that thou mayest be as great as we are. Trinc. You great! what the devil are you? Vent. We two are viceroys over all the island; and, when we are weary of governing, thou shalt succeed us. Trinc. Do you hear, Ventoso? I will succeed you in both places, before you enter into them. Steph. Trincalo, sleep, and be sober; and make no more uproars in my country. Trinc. Why, what are you, sir; what are you? Steph. What I am, I am by free election; and you, Trincalo, are not yourself: but we pardon your first fault, because it is the first day of our reign. Trinc. Umph, were matters carried so swimmingly against me, whilst I was swimming, and saving myself for the good of the people of this island! Must. Art thou mad, Trincalo? Wilt thou disturb a settled government, where thou art a mere stranger to the laws of the country? Trinc. I'll have no laws. Vent. Then civil war begins. Steph. Hold, hold! I'll have no bloodshed; my subjects are but few: Let him make a rebellion by himself; and a rebel, I, duke Stephano, declare him.—Viceroys, come away. Trinc. And duke Trincalo declares, that he will make open war wherever he meets thee, or thy viceroys. Enter Caliban, with wood upon his back. Trinc. Ha! who have we here? Calib. All the infections, that the sun sucks up from fogs, fens, flats, on Prospero fall, and make him by inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me, and yet I needs must curse; but they'll not pinch, fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i'the mire, nor lead me in the dark out of my way, unless he bid them. But for every trifle he sets them on me: Sometimes, like baboons, they mow and chatter at Trinc. What have we here, a man, or a fish? This is some monster of the isle. Were I in England, as once I was, and had him painted, not a holiday fool there but would give me sixpence for the sight of him. Well, if I could make him tame, he were a present for an emperor.—Come hither, pretty monster; I'll do thee no harm: Come hither! Calib. Torment me not; I'll bring the wood home faster. Trinc. He talks none of the wisest; but I'll give him a dram o'the bottle, that will clear his understanding.—Come on your ways, master monster, open your mouth: How now, you perverse moon-calf! what, I think you cannot tell who is your friend?—Open your chops, I say. Calib. This is a brave god, and bears celestial liquor: I'll kneel to him. Trinc. He is a very hopeful monster.—Monster, what say'st thou, art thou content to turn civil and sober, as I am? for then thou shalt be my subject. Calib. I'll swear upon that bottle to be true; for the liquor is not earthly. Did'st thou not drop from heaven? Trinc. Only out of the moon; I was the man in her, when time was.—By this light, a very shallow monster. Calib. I'll shew thee every fertile inch in the isle, and kiss thy foot: I pr'ythee be my god, and let me drink. Trinc. Well drawn, monster, in good faith! Calib. I'll shew thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries; I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.—A curse upon the tyrant whom I serve! I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee. Trinc. The poor monster is loving in his drink. Calib. I pr'ythee let me bring thee where crabs grow; and I, with my long nails, will dig thee pig-nuts, shew thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how to snare the marmozet: I'll bring thee to clustered filberts. Wilt thou go with me? Trinc. This monster comes of a good-natured race.—Is there no more of thy kin in this island? Calib. Divine, here is but one besides myself; my lovely sister, beautiful and bright as the full moon! Trinc. Where is she? Calib. I left her clambering up a hollow oak, and plucking thence the dropping honey-combs.—Say, my king, shall I call her to thee? Trinc. She shall swear upon the bottle too. If she proves handsome, she is mine.—Here, monster, drink again for thy good news; thou shalt speak a good word for me. Calib. Farewell, old master, farewell, farewell! Sings. No more dams I'll make for fish; Nor fetch in firing, at requiring; Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish: Ban, ban, Ca-caliban, Has a new master, get a new man. Hey-day! freedom, freedom! Trinc. Here's two subjects got already, the monster, and his sister: Well, duke Stephano, I say, and say again, wars will ensue, and so I drinks. [Drinks.] From this worshipful monster, and mistress monster, his sister, I'll lay claim to this island by alliance.—Monster, I say, thy sister shall be my spouse; come away, brother monster; I'll lead thee to my butt, and drink her health. SCENE II.—Cypress trees and a Cave.Enter Prospero alone. Prosp. 'Tis not yet fit to let my daughters know, I keep the infant duke of Mantua So near them in this isle; Whose father, dying, bequeathed him to my care; Till my false brother (when he designed to usurp My dukedom from me) exposed him to that fate, He meant for me. By calculation of his birth, I saw Death threat'ning him, if, till some time were past, He should behold the face of any woman: And now the danger's nigh.—Hippolito! Enter Hippolito. Hip. Sir, I attend your pleasure. Prosp. How I have loved thee, from thy infancy, Heaven knows, and thou thyself canst bear me witness; Therefore accuse not me of thy restraint. Hip. Since I knew life, you've kept me in a rock; And you, this day, have hurried me from thence, Only to change my prison, not to free me. I murmur not, but I may wonder at it. Prosp. O, gentle youth! fate waits for thee abroad; A black star threatens thee; and death, unseen, Stands ready to devour thee. Hip. You taught me Not to fear him in any of his shapes:— Let me meet death rather than be a prisoner. Prosp. 'Tis pity he should seize thy tender youth. Hip. Sir, I have often heard you say, no creature Lived in this isle, but those which man was lord of. Why, then, should I fear? Prosp. But here are creatures which I named not to thee, Who share man's sovereignty by nature's laws, And oft depose him from it. Hip. What are those creatures, sir? Prosp. Those dangerous enemies of men, called women. Hip. Women! I never heard of them before.— What are women like? Prosp. Imagine something between young men and angels; Fatally beauteous, and have killing eyes; Their voices charm beyond the nightingale's; They are all enchantment: Those, who once behold them, Are made their slaves for ever. Hip. Then I will wink, and fight with them. Prosp. 'Tis but in vain; They'll haunt you in your very sleep. Hip. Then I'll revenge it on them when I wake. Prosp. You are without all possibility of revenge; They are so beautiful, that you can ne'er attempt, Nor wish, to hurt them. Hip. Are they so beautiful? Prosp. Calm sleep is not so soft; nor winter suns, Nor summer shades, so pleasant. Hip. Can they be fairer than the plumes of swans? Or more delightful than the peacock's feathers? Or than the gloss upon the necks of doves? Or have more various beauty than the rainbow?— These I have seen, and, without danger, wondered at. Prosp. All these are far below them: Nature made Nothing but woman dangerous and fair. Therefore if you should chance to see them, Avoid them straight, I charge you. Hip. Well, since you say they are so dangerous, I'll so far shun them, as I may with safety Of the unblemished honour, which you taugt me. But let them not provoke me, for I'm sure I shall not then forbear them. Prosp. Go in, and read the book I gave you last. To-morrow I may bring you better news. Hip. I shall obey you, sir. Prosp. So, so; I hope this lesson has secured him, For I have been constrained to change his lodging From yonder rock, where first I bred him up, And here have brought him home to my own cell, Because the shipwreck happened near his mansion. I hope he will not stir beyond his limits, For hitherto he hath been all obedience: The planets seem to smile on my designs, And yet there is one sullen cloud behind: I would it were dispersed! Enter Miranda and Dorinda. How, my daughters! I thought I had instructed them enough: Children! retire; why do you walk this way? Mir. It is within our bounds, sir. Prosp. But both take heed, that path is very dangerous; remember what I told you. Dor. Is the man that way, sir? Prosp. All that you can imagine ill is there. The curled lion, and the rugged bear, Are not so dreadful as that man. Mir. Oh me, why stay we here then? Dor. I'll keep far enough from his den, I warrant him. Mir. But you have told me, sir, you are a man; And yet you are not dreadful. Prosp. Ay, child; but I Am a tame man; old men are tame by nature, But all the danger lies in a wild young man. Dor. Do they run wild about the woods? Prosp. No, they are wild within doors, in chambers, and in closets. Dor. But, father, I would stroak them, and make them gentle; then sure they would not hurt me. Prosp. You must not trust them, child: No woman can come near them, but she feels a pain, full nine months. Well, I must in; for new affairs require my presence: Be you, Miranda, your sister's guardian. Dor. Come, sister, shall we walk the other way? The man will catch us else: We have but two legs, And he, perhaps, has four. Mir. Well, sister, though he have; yet look about you. Dor. Come back! that way is towards his den. Mir. Let me alone; I'll venture first, for sure he can Devour but one of us at once. Dor. How dare you venture? Mir. We'll find him sitting like a hare in's form, And he shall not see us. Dor. Ay, but you know my father charged us both. Mir. But who shall tell him on't? we'll keep each other's counsel. Dor. I dare not, for the world. Mir. But how shall we hereafter shun him, if we do not know him first? Dor. Nay, I confess I would fain see him too. I find it in my nature, because my father has forbidden me. Mir. Ay, there's it, sister; if he had said nothing, I had been quiet. Go softly, and if you see him first, be quick, and beckon me away. Dor. Well, if he does catch me, I'll humble myself to him, and ask him pardon, as I do my father, when I have done a fault. Mir. And if I can but escape with life, I had rather be in pain nine months, as my father threatened, than lose my longing. SCENE III.Enter Hippolito. Hip. Prospero has often said, that nature makes Nothing in vain: Why then are women made? Are they to suck the poison of the earth, As gaudy coloured serpents are? I'll ask That question, when next I see him here. Enter Miranda and Dorinda peeping. Dor. O sister, there it is! it walks about Like one of us. Mir. Ay, just so, and has legs as we have too. Hip. It strangely puzzles me: Yet 'tis most likely, Women are somewhat between men and spirits. Dor. Hark! it talks:—sure this is not it my father meant, For this is just like one of us: Methinks, I am not half so much afraid on't as I was; see, now it turns this way. Mir. Heaven! what a goodly thing it is! Dor. I'll go nearer it. Mir. O no, 'tis dangerous, sister! I'll go to it. Dor. I warrant you this is a tame man; dear sister, He'll not hurt me, I see it by his looks. Mir. Indeed he will! but go back, and he shall eat me first: Fie, are you not ashamed to be so inquisitive? Dor. You chide me for it, and would give him yourself. Mir. Come back, or I will tell my father. Observe how he begins to stare already! I'll meet the danger first, and then call you. Dor. Nay, sister, you shall never vanquish me in kindness. I'll venture you no more than you will me. Prosp. [within.] Miranda, child, where are you? Mir. Do you not hear my father call? Go in. Dor. 'Twas you he named, not me; I will but say my prayers, and follow you immediately. Mir. Well, sister, you'll repent it. Dor. Though I die for it, I must have the other peep. Hip. What thing is that? [Seeing her.] Sure 'tis some infant of The sun, dressed in his father's gayest beams, And comes to play with birds: My sight is dazzled, And yet I find I'm loth to shut my eyes: I must go nearer it;—but stay a while; May it not be that beauteous murderer, woman, Which I was charged to shun? Speak, what art thou, Thou shining vision! Dor. Alas, I know not; but I'm told I am A woman; do not hurt me, pray, fair thing. Hip. I'd sooner tear my eyes out, than consent Dor. I never knew What 'twas to be an enemy, nor can I e'er Prove so to that, which looks like you: For though I've been charged by him (whom yet I ne'er disobeyed,) To shun your presence, yet I'd rather die Than lose it; therefore, I hope you will not have the heart To hurt me: Though I fear you are a man, The dangerous thing of which I have been warned. Pray, tell me what you are? Hip. I must confess, I was informed I am a man; But if I fright you, I shall wish I were some other creature. I was bid to fear you too. Dor. Ah me! Heaven grant we be not poison to Each other! Alas, can we not meet, but we must die? Hip. I hope not so! for, when two poisonous creatures, Both of the same kind, meet, yet neither dies. I've seen two serpents harmless to each other, Though they have twined into a mutual knot: If we have any venom in us, sure, we cannot be More poisonous, when we meet, than serpents are. You have a hand like mine—may I not gently touch it? [Takes her hand. Dor. I've touched my father's and my sister's hands, And felt no pain; but now, alas! there's something, When I touch yours, which makes me sigh: Just so I've seen two turtles mourning when they met: Yet mine's a pleasing grief; and so, methought, Hip. Oh heavens! I have the same sense too: your hand, Methinks, goes through me; I feel it at my heart, And find it pleases, though it pains me. Prosp. [within.] Dorinda! Dor. My father calls again; ah, I must leave you. Hip. Alas, I'm subject to the same command. Dor. This is my first offence against my father, Which he, by severing us, too cruelly does punish. Hip. And this is my first trespass too: But he Hath more offended truth, than we have him: He said our meeting would destructive be, But I no death, but in our parting, see. [Exeunt severally. SCENE IV.—A Wild Island.Enter Alonzo, Antonio, and Gonzalo. Gonz. 'Beseech your grace, be merry: You have cause, So have we all, of joy, for our strange escape; Then wisely, good sir, weigh our sorrow with Our comfort. Alon. Pr'ythee peace; you cram these words Into my ears, against my stomach; how Can I rejoice, when my dear son, perhaps This very moment, is made a meal to some strange fish? Anto. Sir, he may live; I saw him beat the billows under him, And ride upon their backs; I do not doubt He came alive to land. Alon. No, no, he's gone; And you and I, Antonio, were those Who caused his death. Anto. How could we help it? Alon. Then, then we should have helped it, When thou betray'dst thy brother Prospero, And Mantua's infant sovereign, to my power: And when I, too ambitious, took by force Another's right: Then lost we Ferdinand; Then forfeited our navy to this tempest. Anto. Indeed we first broke truce with heaven; You to the waves an infant prince exposed, And on the waves have lost an only son. I did usurp my brother's fertile lands, And now am cast upon this desert-isle. Gonz. These, sirs, 'tis true, were crimes of a black dye; But both of you have made amends to heaven, By your late voyage into Portugal; Where, in defence of christianity, Your valour has repulsed the Moors of Spain. Alon. O name it not, Gonzalo; No act but penitence can expiate guilt! Must we teach heaven what price to set on murder? What rate on lawless power and wild ambition? Or dare we traffic with the powers above, And sell by weight a good deed for a bad? [A flourish of music. Gonz. Music! and in the air! sure we are shipwrecked On the dominions of some merry devil! Anto. This isle's enchanted ground; for I have heard Swift voices flying by my ear, and groans Of lamenting ghosts. Alon. I pulled a tree, and blood pursued my hand. Heaven deliver me from this dire place, And all the after-actions of my life Shall mark my penitence and my bounty. [Music again louder. Hark, the sounds approach us! [The stage opens in several places. Anto. Lo! the earth opens to devour us quick. These dreadful horrors, and the guilty sense Of my foul treason, have unmanned me quite. Alon. We on the brink of swift destruction stand; No means of our escape is left. [Another flourish of voices under the stage. Anto. Ah! what amazing sounds are these we hear! Gonz. What horrid masque will the dire fiends present? SUNG UNDER THE STAGE. Enter Pride. Pride. Lo here is Pride, who first led them astray, And did to ambition their minds then betray. Enter Fraud. Fraud. And Fraud does next appear, Their wandering steps who led; When they from virtue fled, They in my crooked paths their course did steer. Enter Rapine. Rapine.From fraud to force they soon arrive, Where Rapine did their actions drive. Enter Murder. Murder. There long they could not stay; Down the steep hill they run; And to perfect the mischief which they had begun, To murder they bent all their way. Chorus of all.Around, around we pace, About this cursed place; While thus we compass in These mortals and their sin. [Devils vanish. Anto. Heaven has heard me, they are vanished! Alon. But they have left me all unmanned; I feel my sinews slacken with the fright; And a cold sweat trills down o'er all my limbs, As if I were dissolving into water. Anto. And mine against him and young Hippolito. Gonz. Heaven have mercy on the penitent! Anto. Lead from this cursed ground; The seas in all their rage are not so dreadful. This is the region of despair and death. Alon. Beware all fruit, but what the birds have pecked. The shadows of the trees are poisonous too: A secret venom slides from every branch. My conscience does distract me! O my son! Why do I speak of eating or repose, Before I know thy fortune? [As they are going out, a Devil rises just before Alon. O heavens! yet more apparitions! Devil Sings. Arise, arise! ye subterranean winds, More to disturb their guilty minds: And all ye filthy damps and vapours rise, Which use to infect the earth, and trouble all the skies; Rise you, from whom devouring plagues have birth: You, that in the vast and hollow womb of earth Engender earthquakes, make whole countries shake, And stately cities into deserts turn; And you, who feed the flames by which earth's entrails burn. Ye raging winds, whose rapid force can make All but the fixed and solid centre shake, Come drive these wretches to that part of the isle, Where nature never yet did smile: Cause fogs and storms, whirlwinds, and earthquakes there:
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