Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

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THE TEMPEST

THE King’s Men acted The Tempest before their patron, James I, at Whitehall on I November 1611. (It was also chosen for performance during the festivities for the marriage of James’s daughter, Princess Elizabeth, to the Elector Palatine during the winter of 1612– 13.) Shakespeare’s play takes place on a desert island somewhere between Tunis and Naples; he derived some details of it from his reading of travel literature, including accounts of an expedition of nine ships taking five hundred colonists from Plymouth to Virginia, which set sail in May 1609. On 29 July the flagship, the Sea-Adventure, was wrecked by a storm on the coast of the Bermudas. She was presumed lost, but on 23 May 1610 those aboard her arrived safely in Jamestown, Virginia, having found shelter on the island of Bermuda, where they were able to build the pinnaces in which they completed their journey. Accounts of the voyage soon reached England; the last-written that Shakespeare seems to have known is a letter by William Strachey, who was on the Sea-Adventure, dated 15 July 1610; though it was not published until 1625, it circulated in manuscript. So it seems clear that Shakespeare wrote The Tempest during the later part of 1610or in 1611. It was first printed in the 1623 Folio, where it is the opening play.

Though other items of Shakespeare’s reading—including both Arthur Golding’s translation and Ovid’s original Metamorphoses (closely echoed in Prospero’s farewell to his magic), John Florio’s translation of essays by Michel de Montaigne, and (less locally but no less pervasively) Virgil’s Aeneid—certainly fed Shakespeare’s imagination as he wrote The Tempest, he appears to have devised the main plot himself. Many of its elements are based on the familiar stuff of romance literature: the long-past shipwreck after a perilous voyage of Prospero and his daughter Miranda; the shipwreck, depicted in the opening scene, of Prospero’s brother, Antonio, with Alonso, King of Naples, and others; the separation and estrangement of relatives—Antonio usurped Prospero’s dukedom, and Alonso believes his son, Ferdinand, is drowned; the chaste love, subjected to trials, of the handsome Ferdinand and the beautiful Miranda; the influence of the supernatural exercised through Prospero’s magic powers; and the final reunions and reconciliations along with the happy conclusion of the love affair. Shakespeare had employed such conventions from the beginning of his career in his comedies, and with especial concentration, shortly before he wrote The Tempest, in Pericles, The Winter’s Tale, and Cymbeline. But whereas those plays unfold the events as they happen, taking us on a journey through time and space, in The Tempest (as elsewhere only in The Comedy of Errors) Shakespeare gives us only the end of the story, concentrating the action into a few hours and locating it in a single place, but informing us about the past, as in the long, romance-type narrative (1.2) in which Prospero tells Miranda of her childhood. The supernatural, a strong presence in all Shakespeare’s late plays, is particularly pervasive in The Tempest; Prospero is a ‘white’ magician—a beneficent one—attended by the spirit Ariel and the sub-human Caliban, two of Shakespeare’s most obviously symbolic characters; and a climax of the play is the supernaturally induced wedding masque that Prospero conjures up for the entertainment and edification of the young lovers, and which vanishes as he remembers Caliban’s plot against his life.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

PROSPERO, the rightful Duke of Milan

MIRANDA, his daughter

ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan

ALONSO, King of Naples

SEBASTIAN, his brother

FERDINAND, Alonso’s son

GONZALO, an honest old counsellor of Naples

ARIEL, an airy spirit attendant upon Prospero

CALIBAN, a savage and deformed native of the island, Prospero’s slave

TRINCULO, Alonso’s jester

STEFANO, Alonso’s drunken butler

The MASTER of a ship

BOATSWAIN

MARINERS

SPIRITS

The Masque

Spirits appearing as:

IRIS

CERES

JUNO

Nymphs, reapers

The Tempest

1.1 A tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard. Enter ⌈severally⌉ a Shipmaster and a Boatswain

MASTER Boatswain!

BOATSWAIN Here, Master. What cheer?

MASTER Good, speak to th’ mariners. Fall to’t yarely, or we run ourselves aground. Bestir, bestir!

Exit

Enter Mariners

BOATSWAIN Heigh, my hearts! Cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! Yare, yare! Take in the topsail! Tend to th’ Master’s whistte!—Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, Gonzalo, and others

ALONSO Good Boatswain, have care. Where’s the Master? (To the Mariners) Play the men!

BOATSWAIN I pray now, keep below.

ANTONIO Where is the Master, Boatswain?

BOATSWAIN Do you not hear him? You mar our labour. Keep your cabins; you do assist the storm.

GONZALO Nay, good, be patient.

BOATSWAIN When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers for the name of king? To cabin! Silence; trouble us not.

GONZALO Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

BOATSWAIN None that I more love than myself. You are a councillor; if you can command these elements to silence and work 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. (To the Mariners) Cheerly, good hearts! (To Gonzalo) Out of our way, I say!

Exit

GONZALO 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.

Exeunt ⌈Courtiers⌉

Enter Boatswain

BOATSWAIN Down with the topmast! Yare! Lower, lower! Bring her to try wi’th’ main-course!

A cry within

A plague upon this howling! They are louder than the weather, or our office.

Enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo

Yet again? What do you here? Shall we give o’er and drown? Have you a mind to sink?

SEBASTIAN A pox o’your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!

BOATSWAIN Work you, then.

ANTONIO Hang, cur, hang, you whoreson insolent noisemaker. We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

⌈Exeunt Mariners⌉

GONZALO I’ll warrant him for drowning, though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an unstanched wench.

BOATSWAIN Lay her a-hold, a-hold! Set her two courses! Off to sea again! Lay her off!

Enter Mariners, wet

MARINERS All lost! To prayers, to prayers! All lost!

⌈Exeunt Mariners⌉

BOATSWAIN What, must our mouths be cold?

GONZALO

The King and Prince at prayers! Let’s assist them,

For our case is as theirs.

SEBASTIAN

I’m out of patience.

ANTONIO

We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards.

This wide-chopped rascal—would thou mightst lie

drowning

The washing of ten tides.

GONZALO

He’ll be hanged yet,

Though every drop of water swear against it

And gape at wid’st to glut him.

A confused noise within

MARINERS (within)

Mercy on us!

We split, we split! Farewell, my wife and children!

Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we spht!

⌈Axit Boatswain⌉

ANTONIO

Let’s all sink wi’th’ King.

SEBASTIAN

Let’s take leave of him.

Exeunt Antonio and Sebastian

GONZALO Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground: long heath, broom, furze, anything. The wills above be done, but I would fain die a dry death. Exit

1.2 Enter Prospero ⌈in his magic cloak, with a staff⌉, and Miranda

MIRANDA

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.

PROSPERO

Be collected.

No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart

There’s no harm done.

MIRANDA

O woe the day!

PROSPERO

No harm.

I have done nothing but in care of thee,

Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who

Art ignorant of what thou art, naught knowing

Of whence I am, nor that I am more better

Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell

And thy no greater father.

MIRANDA

More to know

Did never meddle with my thoughts.

PROSPERO

’Tis time

I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,

And pluck my magic garment from me.

Miranda removes Prospero’s cloak, ⌈and he lays it

on the ground⌉

So.

Lie there, my art.—Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.

The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touched

The very virtue of compassion in thee,

I have with such provision in mine art

So safely ordered that there is no soul—

No, not so much perdition as an hair

Betid to any creature in the vessel,

Which thou heard‘st cry, which thou saw’st sink. Sit

down,

For thou must now know farther.

Miranda sits

MIRANDA

You have often

Begun to tell me what I am, but stopped

And left me to a bootless inquisition,

Concluding ‘Stay; not yet’.

PROSPERO

The hour’s now come.

The very minute bids thee ope thine ear,

Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember

A time before we came unto this cell?

I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not

Out three years old.

MIRANDA

Certainly, sir, I can.

PROSPERO

By what? By any other house or person?

Of anything the image tell me that

Hath kept with thy remembrance.

MIRANDA

’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?

PROSPERO

Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it

That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else

In the dark backward and abyss of time?

If thou rememb‘rest aught ere thou cam’st here,

How thou cam’st here thou mayst.

MIRANDA

But that I do not.

PROSPERO

Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,

Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and

A prince of power—

MIRANDA

Sir, are not you my father?

PROSPERO

Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and

She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father

Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir

And princess no worse issued.

MIRANDA

O the heavens!

What foul play had we that we came from thence?

Or blessed was’t we did?

PROSPERO

Both, both, my girl.

By foul play, as thou sayst, were we heaved thence,

But blessedly holp hither.

MIRANDA

O, my heart bleeds

To think o’th’ teen that I have turned you to,

Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.

PROSPERO

My brother and thy uncle called Antonio—

I pray thee mark me, that a brother should

Be so perfidious—he whom next thyself

Of all the world I loved, and to him put

The manage of my state—as at that time

Through all the signories it was the first,

And Prospero the prime duke—being so reputed

In dignity, and for the liberal arts

Without a parallel—those being all my study,

The government I cast upon my brother,

And to my state grew stranger, being transported

And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle—

Dost thou attend me?

MIRANDA

Sir, most heedfully.

PROSPERO

Being once perfected how to grant suits,

How to deny them, who t‘advance and who

To trash for over-topping, new created

The creatures that were mine, I say—or changed ’em

Or else new formed ’em; having both the key

Of officer and office, set all hearts i’th’ state

To what tune pleased his ear, that now he was

The ivy which had hid my princely trunk

And sucked my verdure out on’t. Thou attend’st not!

MIRANDA

O good sir, I do.

PROSPERO

I pray thee mark me.

I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated

To closeness and the bettering of my mind

With that which but by being so retired

O‘er-priced all popular rate, in my false brother

Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,

Like a good parent, did beget of him

A falsehood, in its contrary as great

As my trust was, which had indeed no limit,

A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded

Not only with what my revenue yielded

But what my power might else exact, like one

Who having into truth, by telling oft,

Made such a sinner of his memory

To credit his own lie, he did believe

He was indeed the Duke. Out o’th’ substitution,

And executing th’outward face of royalty

With all prerogative, hence his ambition growing—

Dost thou hear?

MIRANDA

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

PROSPERO

To have no screen between this part he played

And him he played it for, he needs will be

Absolute Milan. Me, poor man—my library

Was dukedom large enough—of temporal royalties

He thinks me now incapable; confederates,

So dry he was for sway, wi’th’ King of Naples

To give him annual tribute, do him homage,

Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend

The dukedom, yet unbowed—alas,poor Milan—

To most ignoble stooping.

MIRANDA

O the heavens!

PROSPERO

Mark his condition and th’event, then tell me

If this might be a brother.

MIRANDA

I should sin

To think but nobly of my grandmother.

Good wombs have borne bad sons.

PROSPERO

Now the condition.

This King of Naples, being an enemy

To me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit;

Which was that he, in lieu o‘th’ premises

Of homage and I know not how much tribute,

Should presently extirpate me and mine

Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan,

With all the honours, on my brother. Whereon,

A treacherous army levied, one midnight

Fated to th’ purpose did Antonio open

The gates of Milan; and, i’th’ dead of darkness,

The ministers for th’ purpose hurried thence

Me and thy crying self.

MIRANDA

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.

PROSPERO ⌈sitting⌉

Hear a little further,

And then I’ll bring thee to the present business

Which now’s upon’s, without the which this story

Were most impertinent.

MIRANDA

Wherefore did they not

That hour destroy us?

PROSPERO Well demanded, wench;

My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,

So dear the love my people bore me; nor set

A mark so bloody on the business, but

With colours fairer painted their foul ends.

In few, they hurried us aboard a barque,

Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared

A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigged,

Nor tackle, sail, nor mast—the very rats

Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,

To cry to th’ sea that roared to us, to sigh

To th’winds, whose pity, sighing back again,

Did us but loving wrong.

MIRANDA

Alack, what trouble

Was I then to you!

PROSPERO

O,a cherubin

Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile,

Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

When I have decked the sea with drops full salt,

Under my burden groaned; which raised in me

An undergoing stomach, to bear up

Against what should ensue.

MIRANDA How came we ashore?

PROSPERO By providence divine.

Some food we had, and some fresh water, that

A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,

Out of his charity—who being then appointed

Master of this design—did give us; with

Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries

Which since have steaded much. So, of his gentleness,

Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me

From mine own library with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom.

MIRANDA

Would I might

But ever see that man!

PROSPERO

Now I arise.

⌈He stands and puts on his cloak⌉

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.

Here in this island we arrived, and here

Have I thy schoolmaster made thee more profit

Than other princes can, that have more time

For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.

MIRANDA

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.

PROSPERO

Know thus far forth.

By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,

Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies

Brought to this shore; and by my prescience

I find my zenith doth depend upon

A most auspicious star, whose influence

If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes

Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions.

Thou art inclined to sleep; ’tis a good dullness,

And give it way. I know thou canst not choose.

Miranda sleeps

Come away, servant, come! I am ready now.

Approach, my Ariel, come!

Enter Ariel

ARIEL

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.

PROSPERO

Hast thou, spirit,

Performed to point the tempest that I bade thee?

ARIEL

To every article.

I boarded the King’s ship. Now on the beak,

Now in the waste, the deck, in every cabin,

I flamed amazement. Sometime I’d divide,

And burn in many places; on the top-mast,

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 sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune

Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,

Yea, his dread trident shake.

PROSPERO

My brave spirit!

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil

Would not infect his reason?

ARIEL

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 upstaring—then like reeds, not hair—

Was the first man that leaped; cried ‘Hell is empty,

And all the devils are here’.

PROSPERO

Why, that’s my spirit!

But was not this nigh shore?

ARIEL

Close by, my master.

PROSPERO

But are they, Ariel, safe?

ARIEL

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.

PROSPERO

Of the King’s ship,

The mariners, say how thou hast disposed,

And all the rest o’th’ fleet.

ARIEL

Safely in harbour

Is the King’s ship, in the deep nook where cnce

Thou called‘st me up at midnight to fetch dew

From the still-vexed Bermudas, there she’s hid;

The mariners all under hatches stowed,

Who, with a charm joined to their suffered labour,

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 wrecked,

And his great person perish.

PROSPERO

Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is performed; but there’s more work.

What is the time o’th’ day?

ARIEL

Past the mid season.

PROSPERO

At least two glasses. The time ’twixt 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.

PROSPERO

How now? Moody?

What is’t thou canst demand?

ARIEL My liberty.

PROSPERO

Before the time be out? No more!

ARIEL

I prithee,

Remember I have done thee worthy service,

Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served

Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou did promise

To bate me a full year.

PROSPERO

Dost thou forget

From what a torment I did free thee?

ARIEL

No.

PROSPERO

Thou dost, and think‘st it much to tread the ooze

Of the salt deep,

To run upon the sharp wind of the north,

To do me business in the veins o’th’ earth

When it is baked with frost.

ARIEL

I do not, sir.

PROSPERO

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.

PROSPERO Thou hast. Where was she born? Speak, tell me!

ARIEL

Sir, in Algiers.

PROSPERO

O, was she so! I must

Once in a month recount what thou hast been,

Which thou forget‘st. This damned witch Sycorax,

For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible

To enter human hearing, from Algiers

Thou know’st was banished. For one thing she did

They would not take her life. Is not this true?

ARIEL Ay, sir.

PROSPERO

This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child,

And here was left by th’ sailors. Thou, my slave,

As thou report’st thyself, was then her servant;

And for 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,

And in her most unmitigable rage,

Into a cloven pine; within which 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 island—

Save for the son that she did litter here,

A freckled whelp, hag-born—not honoured with

A human shape.

ARIEL

Yes, Caliban her son.

PROSPERO

Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban

Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know’st

What torment I did find thee in. Thy groans

Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts

Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment

To lay upon the damned, which Sycorax

Could not again undo. It was mine art,

When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape

The pine and let thee out.

ARIEL

I thank thee, master.

PROSPERO

If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oak,

And peg thee in his knotty entrails till

Thou hast howled away twelve winters.

ARIEL

Pardon, master.

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my spriting gently.

PROSPERO Do so, and after two days

I will discharge thee.

ARIEL

That’s my noble master!

What shall I do? Say what, what shall I do?

PROSPERO

Go make thyself like to a nymph o’th’ sea. Be subject

To no sight but thine and mine, invisible

To every eyeball else. Go take this shape,

And hither come in’t. Go; hence with diligence!

Exit Ariel

Awake, dear heart, awake! Thou hast slept well;

Awake.

MIRANDA (awaking) The strangeness of your story put

Heaviness in me.

PROSPERO

Shake it off. Come on;

We’ll visit Caliban my slave, who never

Yields us kind answer.

MIRANDA ’Tis a villain, sir,

I do not love to look on.

PROSPERO

But as ’tis,

We cannot miss him. He does make our fire,

Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices

That profit us.—What ho! Slave, Caliban!

Thou earth, thou, speak!

CALIBAN (within)

There’s wood enough within.

PROSPERO

Come forth, I say! There’s other business for thee.

Come, thou tortoise! When?

Enter Ariel, like a water-nymph

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

Hark in thine ear.

He whispers

ARIEL

My lord, it shall be done. Exit

PROSPERO

Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself

Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Enter Caliban

CALIBAN

As wicked dew as e’er my mother brushed

With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen

Drop on you both! A southwest blow on ye,

And blister you all o’er!

PROSPERO

For this be sure tonight thou shalt have cramps,

Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. Urchins

Shall forth at vast of night, that they may work

All exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinched

As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging

Than bees that made ’em.

CALIBAN

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 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 o’th’ isle,

The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile—

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.

PROSPERO

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 child.

CALIBAN

O ho,O ho! Would’t had been done!

Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else

This isle with Calibans.

MIRANDA

Abhorred slave,

Which any print of goodness wilt not take, Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other. When thou didst not, savage, 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 race, Though thou didst learn, had that in’t which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Deservedly confined into this rock, Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

CALIBAN

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!

PROSPERO

Hag-seed, hence!

Fetch us in fuel. And be quick, thou’rt best,

To answer other business.—Shrug’st thou, malice?

If thou neglect’st or dost unwillingly

What I command, I’ll rack thee with old cramps,

Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar,

That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

CALIBAN

No, pray thee.

(Aside) I must obey. His art is of such power

It would control my dam’s god Setebos,

And make a vassal of him.

PROSPERO

So, slave, hence!

Exit Caliban

Enter Ariel ⌈like a water-nymph⌉,playing and

singing, invisible to Ferdinand, who follows.

⌈Prospero and Miranda stand aside⌉

Song

ARIEL

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.

⌈SPIRITS⌉ (dispersedly within)

Bow-wow!

⌈ARIEL⌉

The watch-dogs bark.

FSPIRITS] (within) Bow-wow!

ARIEL

Hark, hark, I hear

The strain of strutting Chanticleer

Cry ‘cock-a-diddle-dow’.

FERDINAND

Where should this music be? I’th’ air or th’earth?

It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon

Some god o‘th’ island. Sitting on a bank,

Weeping again the King my father’s wreck,

This music crept by me upon the waters,

Allaying both their fury and my passion

With its sweet air. Thence I have followed it—

Or it hath drawn me rather. But ’tis gone.

No, it begins again.

Song

ARIEL

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:

⌈SPIRITS⌉(within) Ding dong.

ARIEL

Hark, now I hear them.

⌈SPIRITS⌉(within)

Ding-dong bell. ⌈etc.⌉

FERDINAND

The ditty does remember my drowned father.

This is no mortal business, nor no sound

That the earth owes.

⌈Music⌉

I hear it now above me.

PROSPERO (to Miranda)

The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,

And say what thou seest yon.

MIRANDA

What is’t? A spirit?

Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,

It carries a brave form. But ’tis a spirit.

PROSPERO

No, wench, it eats and sleeps, and hath such senses

As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest

Was in the wreck, and but he’s something stained

With grief, that’s beauty’s canker, thou mightst call

him

A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows,

And strays about to find ’em.

MIRANDA

I might call him

A thing divine, for nothing natural

I ever saw so noble.

PROSPERO (aside)

It goes on, I see,

As my soul prompts it. (To Ariel) Spirit, fine spirit, I’ll

free thee

Within two days for this.

FERDINAND ⌈aside⌉

Most sure the goddess

On whom these airs attend. (To Miranda) Vouchsafe

my prayer 425

May know if you remain upon this island,

And that you will some good instruction give

How I may bear me here. My prime request,

Which I do last pronounce, is—O you wonder—

If you be maid or no?

MIRANDA

No wonder, sir,

But certainly a maid.

FERDINAND

My language! Heavens!

I am the best of them that speak this speech,

Were I but where ’tis spoken.

PROSPERO

How, the best?

What wert thou if the King of Naples heard thee?

FERDINAND

A single thing, as I am now that wonders

To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me,

And that he does I weep. Myself am Naples,

Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld

The King my father wrecked.

MIRANDA

Alack, for mercy!

FERDINAND

Yes, faith, and all his lords, the Duke of Milan

And his brave son being twain.

PROSPERO (aside)

The Duke of Milan

And his more braver daughter could control thee,

If now ’twere fit to do’t. At the first sight

They have changed eyes.—Deticate Ariel,

I’ll set thee free for this. (To Ferdinand) A word, good

sir. 445

I fear you have done yourself some wrong. A word.

MIRANDA (aside)

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.

FERDINAND

O, if a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I’ll make you

The Queen of Naples.

PROSPERO

Soft, sir! One word more.

(Aside) They are both in either’s powers. But this swift

business

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

Make the prize light. (To Ferdinand) One word more. I

charge thee

That thou attend me. Thou dost here usurp

The name thou ow’st not; and hast put thyself

Upon this island as a spy, to win it

From me the lord on’t.

FERDINAND

No, as I am a man.

MIRANDA

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.

PROSPERO (to Ferdinand)

Follow me.

(To Miranda) Speak not you for him; he’s a traitor.

(To Ferdinand) Come!

I’ll manacle thy neck and feet together.

Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be

The fresh-brook mussels, withered roots, and husks

Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow!

FERDINAND

No.

I will resist such entertainment till

Mine enemy has more power.

He draws, and is charmed from moving

MIRANDA

O dear father,

Make not too rash a trial of him, for

He’s gentle, and not fearful.

PROSPERO

What, I say,

My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor,

Who mak‘st a show but dar’st not strike, thy

conscience

Is so possessed with guilt. Come from thy ward,

For I can here disarm thee with this stick

And make thy weapon drop.

MIRANDA

Beseech you, father!

PROSPERO

Hence! Hang not on my garments.

MIRANDA

Sir, have pity.

I’ll be his surety.

PROSPERO

Silencel One word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What,

An advocate for an impostor? Hush!

Thou think’st there is no more such shapes as he,