University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

The Cell of Prospero.
Enter Prospero, meeting Miranda.
Pro.
Miranda, where's your sister?

Mir.
Sir, I saw her
Climbing tow'rds yon high point, whence I am come
From gazing on the ocean:—A brave creature,
(Who has, no doubt, some other creatures in her,)
Toss'd on the waste of waters,—

Pro.
Be collected;
I shall do nothing but in care of thee,
Of thee, my daughter, and thy pretty sister.—
You both are ignorant of what you are,
Nought knowing
Of whence I am; nor that I am more better
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
And your no greater father.

Mir.
More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.

Pro.
'Tis time,
I should inform thee further.—Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magic garment from me.—So;
[Lays down his Mantle and Wand.
Lie there, my art.—
The fated wreck of that same gallant ship
I shall with such provision in mine art
So safely order,
That not so much perdition as a hair,
Shall 'tide to any creature in the vessel.—
Sit down;
For thou must now know further.

Mir.
You have often
Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd,
And left me to a bootless inquisition;
Concluding,—“Stay, not yet.’

Pro.
The hour's now come;
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
Obey, and be attentive.—
[Miranda sits down.
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.

Mir.
Certainly, sir, I can.

Pro.
By what? by any other house, or person?
Of any thing the image tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.

Mir.
'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?

Pro.
Thou hadst, and more, Miranda: But how is it,
That this lives in thy mind? What see'st thou else
In the dark backward and abysme of time?
If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here, thou may'st.

Mir.
But that I do not.

Pro.
Fifteen years since, my child, but fifteen years,
Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and
A prince of power.

Mir.
Sir, are not you my father?

Pro.
Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
She said, you were my daughters; and your father
Was Duke of Milan: thou, my girl, his heir,
A princess, no worse issu'd.

Mir.
O the Heavens!
What foul play had we, that we came from thence?
Or blessed was't, we did?

Pro.
Both, both, my girl:
By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence;
But blessedly holp hither.

Mir.
O, my heart bleeds
To think o'the teen that I have turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance!—Please you, further.

Pro.
My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Antonio,—
I pray thee, mark me,—that a brother should
Be so perfidious!—to him I put
The manage of my government,
And to my state grew stranger, being transported,
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle—
Dost thou attend me?

Mir.
Sir, most heedfully.

Pro.
Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them, having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts
To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was
The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk,
And suck'd my verdure out on't.—Thou attend'st not.

Mir.
O, good sir, I do.

Pro.
Being thus lorded,
Not only with what my revenue yielded,
But what my power might else exact,
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, with the king of Naples,
To give him annual tribute, do him homage,
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend
The dukedom, yet unbow'd, (alas, poor Milan!)
To most ignoble stooping:—Whereupon,
A treacherous army levy'd, one mid-night
Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open
The gates of Milan; and, i'the dead of darkness,
The ministers for the purpose hurry'd thence
Me, thy young sister, and thy crying self.

Mir.
Alack, for pity!—

Pro.
Hear a little further,
And then I'll bring thee to the present business
Which now 's upon us; without the which, this story
Were most impertinent.

Mir.
Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?

Pro.
Girl, they durst not,
So dear the love my people bore me, set
A mark so bloody on the business; but
With colours, fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurry'd us aboard a bark;
Bore us some leagues to sea: where they prepar'd
A rotten carcase of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.

Mir.
Alack! what trouble
Were we then to you!

Pro.
O! two cherubim
Ye were, that did preserve me; ye did smile,
Infused with a fortitude from Heaven;
Which rais'd in me
An undergoing stomach, to bear up
Against what should ensue.

Mir.
How came we ashore?

Pro.
By providence divine.—
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity, (he 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 lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,
From my own library, with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.

Mir.
'Would I might
But ever see that man!

[Rises.
Pro.
Mark me,—and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this island we arriv'd; and here
Have I, your schoolmaster, made you more profit
Than other princes can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

Mir.
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?

Pro.
Know thus far forth:—
By accident most strange, bountiful fortune,
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
Brought on these seas; 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.
[Takes up his Wand, and charms Miranda to Sleep.
Here cease more questions;
[Miranda sinks into her Seat.
Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way:—I know, thou canst not chuse.—
[Miranda sleeps.—Prospero puts on his Mantle.
Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;
Approach, my Ariel; come.

Enter Ariel.
Ari.
All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
To swim, to dive into the sea, to ride
On the curl'd clouds; to thy strong bidding, task
Ariel, and all his quality.

Pro.
Hast thou, spirit,
Prepar'd to point the Tempest that I bade thee?

Ari.
To every article.

Pro.
What is the time o'the day?

Ari.
Past the mid season.

Pro.
At least two glasses: The time 'twixt six and now,
Must by us both be spent most preciously.

Ari.
Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me.

Pro.
How now,—moody?
What is't thou canst demand?

Ari.
My liberty.

Pro.
Before the time be out! no more.

Ari.
I pray thee:
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge, or grumblings: thou didst promise
To bate me a full year.

Pro.
Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?

Ari.
No.

Pro.
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'the earth,
When it is bak'd with frost.

Ari.
I do not, sir.

Pro.
Thou ly'st, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot
The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age, and envy,
Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

Ari.
No, sir.

Pro.
Thou hast: Where was she born? Speak; tell me.

Ari.
Sir, in Argier.

Pro.
O, was she so? I must,
Once in a month, recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know'st, was banish'd; for one thing she did,
They would not take her life:—Is not this true?

Ari.
Ay, sir.

Pro.
This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,
And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, was then her servant:
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthly, and abhorr'd 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
Imprison'd, 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 honour'd with
A human shape.

Ari.
Yes: Caliban her son.

Pro.
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 damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not again undo; it was mine art,
When I arriv'd, and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.

Ari.
I thank thee master.

Pro.
If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak,
And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till
Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters more.

Ari.
Pardon, master:
I will be correspondent to command,
And do my spiriting gently.

Pro.
Do so; and after two days
I will discharge thee.

Ari.
That's my noble master!
What shall I do? say, what? what shall I do?

Pro.
Go, with the spirits under thy command,
Let loose the Tempest, as I bade thee: then
Disperse the stranded crew about the isle,
And bring the king's son, Ferdinand, to my cell.—
Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible
To every eyeball else.

Ari.
Master, I shall.
SONG BY ARIEL.

[Exit.
Pro.
Awake; dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well:
Awake!

Mir.
The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

Pro.
Shake it off; come on;
[Miranda rises.
We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.

Mir.
'Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.

Pro.
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 without.
Cal.
There's wood enough within.

Pro.
Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee;
Come forth, thou tortoise! when?
Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself,
Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Enter Caliban, from his Den.
[Exit Miranda.
Cal.
As wicked dew, as e'er my mother brush'd
With raven's feather from unwholesome fen,
Drop on you both! A south west blow on you,
And blister you all o'er!

Pro.
For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
Side stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honey-combs; each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made them.

Cal.
I must eat my dinner.
This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest first,
Thou strok'dst me and mad'st 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 lov'd thee,
And show'd thee all the qualities o' the 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 of the island.

Pro.
Most abhorred slave,
Which any print of goodness wilt not take,
Being capable of all ill, I have us'd thee,
Filth as thou art, with human care:—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 would'st gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd 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 confin'd into this rock,
Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison.

Cal.
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!

Pro.
Hag-seed, hence!
Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou wert 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.

Cal.
No, 'pray thee!
I must obey: his art is of such power,
It would controll my dam's god Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.

Pro.
So, slave; hence!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Foot of a Promontory.
Enter Miranda, meeting Dorinda.
Dor.
O, sister, sister,—what have I beheld!

Mir.
What is it moves you so?

Dor.
From yonder rock,
As I mine eyes cast down upon the sea,
The whistling winds blew rudely in my face,
And the waves roar'd;—at first, I thought the war
Had been between themselves; but straight I spy'd
A strange huge creature,—

Mir.
O, you mean the ship.

Dor.
Is't not a creature then? It seem'd alive.

Mir.
Well,—but, what of it?

Dor.
This floating ram did bear his horns aloft
All ty'd with ribands ruffling in the wind;
Sometimes he nodded down his head awhile,
And then the waves did heave him to the moon.

Mir.
But, sister, I have stranger news to tell you:—
In this great creature there are 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.
Made for him? What, that he should eat us, sister?

Mir.
No, sure; you see my father is a man,
And yet he does us good.

Dor.
Methinks, it would
Be finer, sister, if we had two young fathers.

Mir.
No, sister, no; because, if they were young,
My father said that we must call them—brothers.

Dor.
How comes it, then, that we two are not brothers?
And how came he to be our father too?

Mir.
I believe, he found us, when we both were little,
And grew within the ground.

Dor.
Why did'nt he find more of us? 'Pray, dear sister
Let you and me 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 that are in open air.
The effect of his great art I long to see,
Which will perform as much as magic can.

Dor.
And I, methinks more long to see a man.

[Exeunt.