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The Tempest.
15
Iuno sings her blessings on you.Earths increase, foyzon plentie,Barnes, and Garners, neuer empty.Vines, with clustring bunches growingsPlants, with goedly burthen bowing:Spring come to you at the farthest,In the very end of Haruest.Scarcity and want shall shun you,Ceres blessing so it on you.
Ter.This is a most maiesticke vision, andHarmonious charmingly: may I be boldTo thinke these spirits?
Pro.Spirits, which by mine ArtI haue from their confines call'd to enactMy present fancies.
Fer.Let me liue here euer,So rare a wondred Father, and a wifeMakes this place Paradise.
Pro.Sweet now, silence:Iuno and Ceres whisper seriously,There's something else to doe: hush, and be muteOr else our spell is mar'd.
Iuno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment.
Iris.You Nimphs cald Nayades of ў windring brooks,With your sedg'd crownes, and euer-harmelesse lookes,Leaue your crispe channels, and on this greene-LandAnswere your summons, Iuno do's command.Come temperate Nimphes, and helpe to celebrateA Contract of true Loue: be not too late.Enter Certaine Nimphes.You Sun-burnd Sicklemen of August weary,Come hether from the furrow, and be merry,Make holly day: your Rye-straw hats put on,And these fresh Nimphes encounter euery oneIn Country footing.
Enter certaine Reapers (properly habited:) they ioyne with the Nimphes, in a gracefull dance, towards the end whereof, Prospero starts sodainly and speakes, after which to a strange hollow and confused noyse, they heauily vanish.
Pro.I had forgot that foule conspiracyOf the beast Calliban, and his confederatesAgainst my life: the minute of their plotIs almost come: Well done, auoid: no more.
Fer.This is strange: your fathers in some passionThat workes him strongly.
Mir.Neuer till this daySaw I him touch'd with anger, so distemper'd.
Pro.You doe looke (my son) in a mou'd sort,As if you were dismaid: be cheerefull Sir,Our Reuels now are ended: These our actors,(As I foretold you) were all Spirits, andAre melted into Ayre, into thin Ayre,And like the baselesse fabricke of this visionThe Clowd-capt Towres, the gorgeous Pallaces,The solemne Temples, the great Globe it selfe,Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolue,And like this insubstantiall Pageant fadedLeaue not a racke behinde: we are such stuffeAs dreames are made on; and our little lifeIs rounded with a sleepe: Sir, I am vext,Beare with my weakenesse, my old braine is troubled:Be not disturb'd with my infirmitie,If you be pleas'd, retire into my Cell,And there repose, a turne or two, Ile walkeTo still my beating minde.
Fer.Exit.Mir. We wish your peace.
Pro.Come with a thought; I thank thee Ariell: come.
Enter Ariell.
Ar.Thy thoughts I cleaue to, what's thy pleasure?
Pro.Spirit: We must prepare to meet with Caliban.
Ar.I my Commander, when I presented CeresI thought to haue told thee of it, but I fear'd Least I might anger thee.
Pro.Say again, where didst thou leaue these varlots?
Ar.I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking, So full of valour, that they smote the ayre For breathing in their faces: beate the ground For kissing of their feete; yet alwaies bending Towards their proiect: then I beate my Tabor, At which like vnback't colts they prickt their eares, Aduanc'd their eye-lids, lifted vp their noses As they smelt musicke, so I charm'd their eares That Calfe-like, they my lowing follow'd, through Tooth’d briars, sharpe furzes, pricking gosse, & thorns, Which entred their fraile shins: at last I left them I’th' filthy mantled poole beyond your Cell, There dancing vp to th'chins, that the fowle Lake Ore-stunck their feet.
Pro.This was well done (my bird)Thy shape inuisible retaine thou still:The trumpery in my house, goe bring it hitherFor stale to catch these theeues.
Ar.Exit.I go, I goe.
Pro.A Deuill, a borne-Deuill, on whose natureNurture can neuer sticke: on whom my painesHumanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost,And, as with age, his body ouglier growes,So his minde cankers: I will plague them all,Euen to roaring: Come, hang on them this line.
Enter Ariell, loaden with glistering apparell, &c. EnterCaliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet.
Cal.Pray you tread softly, that the blinde Mole may not heare a foot fall: we now are neere his Cell.
St.Monster, your Fairy, wc you say is a harmles Fairy, Has done little better then plaid the lacke with vs.
Trin.Monster, I do smell all horse-pisse, at which My nose is in great indignation.
Ste.So is mine. Do you heare Monster: If I should Take a displeasure against you: Looke you.
Trin.Thou wert but a lost Monster.
Cal.Good my Lord, giue me thy fauour stil, Be patient, for the prize Ile bring thee too Shall hudwinke this mischance: therefore speake softly, All's husht as midnight yet.
Trin.I, but to loose our bottles in the Poole.
Ste.There is not onely disgrace and dishonor in that Monster, but an infinite losse.
Tr.That's more to me then my wetting: Yet this is your harmlesse Fairy, Monster.
Ste.I will fetch off my bottle,Though I be o're cares for my labour.
Cal.Pre-thee (my King) be quiet. Seest thou heereThis is the mouth o'th Cell: no noise, and enter:Do that good mischeefe, which may make this IslandThine owne for euer, and I thy CalibanFor aye thy foot-licker.
Ste.Giue me thy hand,I do begin to haue bloody thoughts.
Trin.O King Stephano, O Peere: O worthy Stephano,Looke what a wardrobe heere is for thee.
Cal.Let it alone thou foole, it is but trash.
Tri.Oh, ho, Monster: wee know what belongs to a frippery, O King Stephano.
Ste. Put
