University of Virginia Library

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.

The Sea.—A Ship in a Tempest.
Ariel firing the Ship.
Spirits of the Winds dancing.
Chorus by Spirits of the Storm.
[Loud Thunder.

[The Ship seems to founder.—Ariel and all the other Spirits disappear.

SCENE II.

The Cave of Hippolyto.
Enter Prospero.
Pro.
'Tis not yet fit, I let my daughters know
That I have rear'd the princely heir of Mantua,
As I have them, from childhood in this isle.
His father, dying, bequeath'd him to my care,
That I should breed him equal to his birth.
O, thou false brother! was it not enough
To usurp my state, but that thou must betray
My pupil's dukedom to the Neapolitan,
And doom him to the fate design'd for me!—
By calculation of his birth, I saw
Death threatening him, if, till some time were pass'd,
He should behold the face of any woman;
And now the danger's nigh.—Hippolyto!—
Approach, young man; come forth:—Hippolyto!—

Enter Hippolyto.
Hip.
Sir, I attend your pleasure.

Pro.
How I have lov'd thee from thy infancy,
Heaven knows, and thou thyself canst bear me witness;
Therefore accuse me not for thy restraint.

Hip.
I murmur not; but I may wonder at it.

Pro.
O, gentle youth, fate waits for thee abroad,
A black star threatens thee, and death unseen
Stands ready to devour thee.

Hip.
Sir, I have often heard you say, no creature
Liv'd in this isle, but those which man was lord of:—
Why then should I fear?

Pro.
But here are creatures which I nam'd not to thee;
Those dangerous enemies of men, call'd women.

Hip.
Women!—I never heard of them before.
What are women like?

Pro.
Imagine something 'tween young men and angels,
Fatally beauteous, and with killing eyes:
Their voices charm beyond the nightingale's;
They are all enchantment; those, who once behold them,
Are made their slaves for ever:—
Therefore, if you should chance to see them,—mark me,—
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 unblemish'd honour which you taught me:
But let them not provoke me; for, I'm sure,
I shall not then forbear them.

Pro.
Go in, and read the book I gave you last.

Hip.
I shall obey you, sir.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Valley in the Island.
Enter Prospero.
Pro.
So, so; I hope this lesson has secur'd him;
For I have been constrain'd to change his lodging
From the rude rock where I have bred him up,
And bring him to the neighbourhood of my cell,
Because the shipwreck happen'd near his mansion.—
How, my daughters!—
I thought I had instructed them enough.—
Enter Miranda and Dorinda.
Children, retire:—Why do you walk this way?

Mir.
It is within our bounds, sir.

Pro.
But both take heed, that path is very dangerous:
Remember what I told you.

Dor.
Is the man that way, sir?

Pro.
All, that you can imagine ill, is there:
The curled lion, and the rugged bear,
Are not so dreadful as that savage man.

Dor.
But I would stroke him, father,
And make him gentle, then he would not hurt me.

Pro.
You must not trust him, child.—But I must in;
For now my operant spells require my presence.—
Be you, Miranda, guardian to your sister.
[Exit Prospero.

Dor.
Come, sister, let us walk the other way,
The man will catch us else; we've but two legs,
And he, perhaps, has four.

Mir.
Well, sister, though he have, yet look about you,
And we shall spy him, ere he come too near us.

Dor.
Come back, come back; that way is tow'rd his den.

Mir.
Let me alone: I'll venture first; for sure
He can devour but one of us at once.—
I will go softly:—if you see him first,
Be sure, you call me to take care of you.
[Exit Miranda.

Dor.
Nay, I confess, I would fain see him too:
I find a longing in my very nature,
Because my father has forbidden me.
[Exit Dorinda.

SCENE IV.

The Cave of Hippolyto.
Enter Hippolyto, reading.
Hip.
Prospero has often said that nature makes
Nothing in vain: why then are women made?
I'll ask that question, when I see him next.

Enter Dorinda and Miranda, from behind.
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.

Mir.
Hark, hark! it talks. Why, sure this is not it
My father meant:—'tis just like one of us.

Dor.
I am not half so much afraid on't as
I was:—see, see, it turns this way.—
Heav'n! what a pretty thing it is!

Mir.
I'll go nearer it.

Dor.
O no; 'tis dangerous, sister: I'll go to it.

Mir.
I would not for the world that you should venture;
My father charg'd me to secure you from it.

Dor.
I warrant you, this is a tame man, sister:
He will not hurt me; I see it by his looks.

Pro.
[Without.]
What ho! what ho!—Miranda, child, where are you?

Mir.
Do you not hear my father call? go in.

Dor.
'Twas you he call'd, not me.—Make haste, make hase:—
You would not let my father wait, I hope.

Pro.
[Without.]
Miranda, child,—

Mir.
Come, sister, come with me.
[Exit Miranda.

Dor.
Though I die for't, I must have t'other peep.

Hip.
[Turns, and sees her.]
What thing is that?
Sure 'tis some favourite infant of the sun.
My sight is dazzled.—I'll go nearer to it.—
May it not be that beauteous murderer, woman,
Whom I was charg'd to shun? Speak, speak,—what art thou,
Shining vision?

Dor.
Alas, I know not; but, I'm told, I am
A woman.—Do not hurt me, 'pray, fair thing.

Hip.
Won't you hurt me, fair thing? for, I was told,
A woman was my enemy.

Dor.
I never knew
What 'twas to be an enemy; nor can
I e'er prove so to that, which looks like you:
Although I fear you are a man, that lion,
That dangerous thing, of which I have been warn'd.
'Pray, tell me what you are.

Hip.
In truth, I was inform'd I am a man;
But, if I fright you, I shall wish I were
Some other creature.

Dor.
No, you do not fright me.

Pro.
[Without.]
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 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;
Yet I no death but in our parting see.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

A naked Part of the Island.
Thunder, Wind, Rain.
Enter Caliban, bearing a Bundle of Wood.
Cal.
All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By inchmeal a disease!
[Throws off his Load.
His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i'the mire,
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid them; but
For every trifle they are set upon me;
Sometime like apes, that mow and chatter at me,
And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I
All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues,
Do hiss me into madness.

[Wind and Rain.
Trinculo.
[Without.]
O, O, O,—

Cal.
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.

[Lies down.
Enter Trinculo.
Trin.

Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off
any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I
hear it sing i'the wind: if it should thunder, as it did
before, I know not where to hide my head: yond'

same cloud cannot chuse but fall by pailfuls,—What
have we here? a man or a fish?—Dead or alive?—
A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient, and fish-like
smell; a kind of, not the newest, poor John.—
A strange fish! Legg'd like a man! and his fins like
arms!—Warm, o'my troth!—I do now let loose my
opinion, hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an
islander, that has lately suffered by a thunderbolt.—
[Wind and Rain.]
—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.

[Lies down behind Caliban.
Enter Stephano, singing; a Keg in his Hand.
Step.

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral:
—Well, here's my comfort.

[Drinks,

This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort.

[Drinks.

Cal.

Do not torment me: O!

Step.

What's the matter? Have we devils here?
Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of
Inde?—Ha! I have not 'scap'd drowning, to be
afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said,

as proper a man as ever went on four legs, cannot make
him give ground: and it shall be said so again, while
Stephano breathes at nostrils.

Cal.

This spirit torments me: O!—

Step.

This is some monster of the isle, with four
legs; who has got, as I take it, an ague. Where the
devil should he learn our language? I will give him
some relief, if it be but for that: if I can recover him,
and keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's
a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather.

Cal.
Do not torment me, 'pr'ythee;
I'll bring my wood home faster.—O, O, O!—

Step.

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.

Cal.
Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt
Anon, I know it by thy trembling:
Now Prosper works upon thee.

Step.
[Raising Caliban.]

Come on your ways;
open your mouth; here is that which will give language
to you, cat; open your mouth:— [Makes Caliban

drink.]
—This will shake your shaking, I can
tell you, and that soundly:— [Takes the Keg from his

Mouth.]
—You cannot tell who's your friend: open
your chaps again.

[Caliban takes the Keg, and drinks.
Trin.

I should know that voice: it should be—
but he is drown'd; and these are devils: O! defend
me!—

Step.

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!—
[Takes the Keg from Caliban, who lies down again.]

—I will pour some in thy other mouth.

Trin.

Stephano,—

Step.

Doth thy other mouth call me! Mercy!
Mercy! This is a devil, and no monster.

Trin.

Stephano!—if thou be'st Stephano, touch
me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo;—be not
afeard,—thy good friend Trinculo.

Step.

If thou be'st Trinculo, come forth; I'll pull
thee by the lesser legs.—Thou art very Trinculo, indeed:
How cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf?
Can he vent Trinculos.

Trin.

I took him to be kill'd with a thunder-stroke.
—And art thou living, Stephano! O Stephano, two
Neapolitans 'scap'd!

[Runs and embraces him, turning him round.
Step.

'Pr'ythee, do not turn me about; my stomach
is not constant.

Cal.

These be fine things, and if they be not sprites.
That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor.

Step.

How did'st thou 'scape? How cam'st thou
hither? Swear by this bottle how thou cam'st hither!
— [Gives Trinculo the Keg,—he drinks.]
—I escaped
upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved over
board.—How escaped'st thou?

Trin.

Swam ashore, man, like a duck.—O, Stephano,
hast any more of this?

[Gives Stephano the Keg.
Step.

The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock
by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now,
moon-calf! How does thine ague?

Cal.

Hast thou not dropped from heaven?

Step.

Out o'the moon, I do assure thee: I was the
man in the moon, when time was.

Cal.

I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee:
My mistress showed me thee, thy dog, and bush.

Step.

Come, swear to that;— [Gives Caliban the

Keg.]
—kiss the book: I will furnish it anon with new
contents: swear.

[Caliban drinks greedily.
Trin.

By this good light, this is a very shallow
monster:—I afeard of him?—a very weak monster
—the man i'the moon!—A most poor, credulous
monster.

Step.

Well drawn, monster, in good sooth.

[Takes the Keg from Caliban.
Cal.
I'll show thee every fertile inch o' the island;
And I'll kiss thy foot: I pr'ythee, be my god.

Trin.

By this light, a most perfidious and drunken
monster; when his god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle.

Cal.
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 wond'rous man.

Trin.

A most ridiculous monster: to make a wonder
of a poor drunkard.—Ah me!

Cal.
I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow:
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;
Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee
To clust'ring filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee
Young sea-mells from the rock: Wilt thou go with me?

Step.

I pr'ythee now, lead the way, without any
more talking.—What, Trinculo,—weeping?—You
spill your wine out of your eyes; you shall drink no
more.

Trin.

This will be a doleful day with my poor girl:
she gave me a gilt nutmeg at parting: that's lost too.
—But, come, sorrow is dry,— [Takes the Keg.]
Here's
to you, Stephano.

[Drinks.
Step.

Beshrew thy heart, for putting me in mind of
my wife: It's a good old jade;—she has but one eye
left, and she will weep out that too, when she

hears that I am drowned.— [Takes the Keg.]
But
here's my comfort.

[Drinks.
Trin.

A man had as good e'en be a fish as a man,
for any comfort is likely to be got in this island:—
We may lie at hull here till the wind blow north and
by south, ere we can cry—“A sail! a sail!”—at
sight of a white apron.

Step.

Trinculo, the king, and all our company, being
drowned, we will inherit here.—Here; bear my bottle,
[Gives the Keg to Caliban, who drinks it empty.]

—and lead the way, monster.—Fellow Trinculo,
we'll fill him by and by again.

Caliban
sings drunkenly.
No more dams I'll make for fish;
Nor fetch in firing,
At requiring,
Nor scrape trench'ring, nor wash dish;
'Ban, 'Ban, Ca—Caliban,
Has a new master;—Get a new man.

Trin. Step. and Cal.
'Ban, 'Ban, Ca—Caliban,
Has a new master;—Get a new man.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

A wild and beautiful Part of the Island, on the Seashore.
Enter Ariel and other Spirits.
Enter Ferdinand, with his Sword drawn.—Ariel and the other Spirits are invisible to him.
Fer.
Where should this music be? I'the air, or the 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 follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me rather:—But 'tis gone—
[Music.
No, it begins again—

SONG—BY ARIEL.
Full fathom five, thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that does fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change,
Into something rich and strange.

Chorus of Spirits.
Sea nymphs hourly ring his knell;
Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong, bell.

Fer.
This ditty does remember my drown'd father:—
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes.

[Ariel waves Ferdinand after him.
Chorus of Spirits.
Sea nymphs hourly ring his knell;
Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong, bell.

[Exeunt.