Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Tempest/Act 2 Scene 1
Actus Secundus. Scœna Prima.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,Francisco, and others.
Gonz.Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue cause,(So haue we all) of ioy; for our escapeIs much beyond our losse; our hint of woeIs common, euery day, some Saylors wife,The Masters of some Merchant, and the MerchantHaue iust our Theame of woe: But for the miracle,(I meane our preseruation) few in millionsCan speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weighOur sorrow, with our comfort.
Alons.Prethee peace.
Seb.He receiues comfort like cold porredge.
Ant.The Visitor will not giue him ore so.
Seb.Looke, hee's winding vp the watch of his wit,By and by it will strike.
Gon.Sir.
Seb.One: Tell.
Gon.When euery greefe is entertaind,That's offer'd comes to th'entertainer.
Seb.A dollor.
Gon.Dolour comes to him indeed, you haue spokentruer then you purpose'd.
Seb.You haue taken it wiselier then I meant you should.
Gon.Therefore my Lord.
Ant.Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue.
Alon.I pre-thee spare.
Gon.Well, I haue done: But yet
Seb.He will be talking.
Ant.Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager,First begins to crow?
Seb.The old Cocke.
Ant.The Cockrell.
Seb.Done: The wager?
Ant.A Laughter.
Seb.A match.
Adr.Though this Island seeme to be desert.
Seb.Ha, ha, ha.
Ant.So: you'r paid.
Adr.Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible.
Seb.Yet
Adr.Yet
Ant.He could not misse't
Adr.It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.
Ant.Temperance was a delicate wench.
Seb.I, and a subtle, as he most learnedly deliuer'd.
Adr.The ayre breathes vpon vs here most sweetly.
Seb.As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant.Or, as 'twere perfume'd by a Fen.
Gon.Heere is euery thing aduantageous to life.
Ant.True, saue meanes to liue.
Seb.Of that there's none, or little.
Gon.How lush and lusty the grasse lookes?How greene?
Ant.The ground indeed is tawny.
Seb.With an eye of greene in't.
Ant.He misses not much.
Seb.No: he doth but mistake the truth totally.
Gon.But the rariety of it is, which is indeed almostbeyond credit.
Seb.As many voucht rarieties are.
Gon.That our Garments being (as they were) drenchin the Sea, hold notwithstanding their freshnesse andglosses, being rather new dy'de then stain'd with saltewater.
Ant.If but one of his pockets could speake, wouldit not say he lyes?
Seb.I, or very falsely pocket vp his report.
Gon.Me thinkes our garments are now as fresh aswhen we put them on first in Affricke, at the marriageof the kings faire daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis.
Seb.'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well inour returne.
Adri. Tunis was neuer grac'd before with such a Paragonto their Queene.
Gon.Not since widdow Dido's time.
Ant.Widow? A pox o'that: how came that Widdow in?Widdow Dido!
Seb.What if he had said Widdower Æneas too?Good Lord, how you take it?
Adri.Widdow Dido said you? You make me studyof that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis.
Gon.This Tunis Sir was Carthage.
Adri.Carthage?
Gon.I assure you Carthage.
Ant.His word is more then the miraculous Harpe.
Seb.He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.
Ant.What impossible matter wil he make easy next?
Seb.I thinke hee will carry this Island home in hispocket, and giue it his sonne for an Apple.
Ant.And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bringforth more Islands.
Gon.I.
Ant.Why in good time.
Gon.Sir, we were talking, that our garments seemenow as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriageof your daughter, who is now Queene.
Ant.And the rarest that ere came there.
Seb.Bate (I beseech you) widdow Dido.
Ant.O Widdow Dido? I, Widdow Dido.
Gon.Is not Sir my doublet as fresh as the first day Iwore it? I meane in a sort.
Ant.That sort was well fish'd for.
Gon.When I wore it at your daughters marriage.
Alon.You cram these words into mine eares, againstthe stomacke of my sense: would I had neuerMarried my daughter there: For comming thenceMy sonne is lost, and (in my rate) she too,Who is so farre from Italy remoued,I ne're againe shall see her: O thou mine heireOf Naples and of Millaine, what strange fishHath made his meale on thee?
Fran.Sir he may liue,I saw him beate the surges vnder him,And ride vpon their backes; he trod the waterWhose enmity he flung aside: and brestedThe surge most swolne that met him: his bold head'Boue the contentious waues he kept, and oaredHimselfe with his good armes in lusty strokeTo th'shore; that ore his waue-worne basis bowedAs stooping to releeue him: I not doubtHe came aliue to Land.
Alon.No, no, hee's gone.
Seb.Sir you may thank your selfe for this great losse,That would not blesse our Europe with your daughter,But rather loose her to an Affrican,Where she at least, is banish'd from your eye,Who hath cause to wet the greefe on't.
Alon.Pre-thee peace.
Seb.You were kneel'd too, & importun'd otherwiseBy all of vs: and the faire soule her selfeWaigh'd betweene loathnesse, and obedience, atWhich end o'th'beame should bow: we haue lost your son,I feare for euer: Millaine and Naples haueMo widdowes in them of this businesse making,Then we bring men to comfort them:The faults your owne.
Alon.So is the deer'st oth'losse.
Gon.My Lord Sebastian,The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse,And time to speake it in: you rub the sore,When you should bring the plaister.
Seb.Very well.
Ant.And most Chirurgeonly.
Gon.It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir,When you are cloudy.
Seb.Fowle weather?
Ant.Very foule.
Gon.Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord.
Ant.Hee'd sow't with Nettle-seed.
Seb.Or dockes, or Mallowes.
Gon.And were the King on't, what would I do?
Seb.Scape being drunke, for want of Wine.
Gon.I'th'Commonwealth I would (by contraries)Execute all things: For no kinde of TraffickeWould I admit: No name of Magistrate:Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty,And vse of seruice, none: Contract, Succession,Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none:No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle:No occupation, all men idle, all:And Women too, but innocent and pure:No Soueraignty.
Seb.Yet he would be King on't.
Ant.The latter end of his Common-wealth forgetsthe beginning.
Gon.All things in common Nature should produceWithout sweat or endeuour: Treason, fellony,Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any EngineWould I not haue: but Nature should bring forthOf it owne kinde, all foyzon, all abundanceTo feed my innocent people.
Seb.No marrying 'mong his subiects?
Ant.None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues,
Gon.I would with such perfection gouerne Sir:T'Excell the Golden Age.
Seb.'Saue his Maiesty.
Ant.Long liue Gonzalo.
Gon.And do you marke me, Sir?
Alon.Pre-thee no more: thou dost talke nothing to me.
Gon.I do well beleeue your Highnesse, and did itto minister occasion to these Gentlemen, who are ofsuch sensible and nimble Lungs, that they alwayes vseto laugh at nothing.
Ant.'Twas you we laugh'd at.
Gon.Who, in this kind of merry fooling am nothingto you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.
Ant.What a blow was there giuen?
Seb.And it had not falne flat-long.
Gon.You are Gentlemen of braue mettal: you wouldlift the Moone out of her spheare, if she would continuein it fiue weekes without changing.
Enter Ariell playing solemne Musicke.
Seb.We would so, and then go a Bat-fowling.
Ant.Nay good my Lord be not angry.
Gon.No I warrant you, I will not aduenture mydiscretion so weakly: Will you laugh me asleepe, for Iam very heauy.
Ant.Go sleepe, and heare vs.
Alon.What, all so soone asleepe? I wish mine eyesWould (with themselues) shut vp my thoughts,I finde they are inclin'd to do so.
Seb.Please you Sir,Do not omit the heauy offer of it:It sildome visits sorrow, when it doth, it is a Comforter.
Ant.We two my Lord, will guard your person,While you take your rest, and watch your safety.
Alon.Thanke you: Wondrous heauy.
Seb.What a strange drowsines possesses them?
Ant.It is the quality o'th'Clymate.
Seb.WhyDoth it not then our eye-lids sinke? I findeNot my selfe dispos'd to sleep.
Ant.Nor I, my spirits are nimble:They sell together all, as by consentThey dropt, as by a Thunder-stroke: what mightWorthy Sebastian? O, what might? no more:And yet, me thinkes I see it in thy face,What thou should'st be: th'occasion speaks thee, andMy strong imagination see's a CrowneDropping vpon thy head.
Seb.What: art thou waking?
Ant.Do you not heare me speake?
Seb.I do, and surelyIt is a sleepy Language; and thou speak'stOut of thy sleepe: What is it thou didst say?This is a strange repose, to be asleepeWith eyes wide open: standing, speaking, mouing:And yet so fast asleepe.
Ant.Noble Sebastian,Thou let'st thy fortune sleepe: die rather: wink'stWhiles thou art waking.
Seb.Thou do'st snore distinctly,There's meaning in thy snores.
Ant.I am more serious then my custome: youMust be so too, if heed me: which to do,Trebbles thee o're.
Seb.Well: I am standing water.
Ant.Ile teach you how to slow.
Seb.Do so: to ebbeHereditary Sloth instructs me.
Ant.O!If you but knew how you the purpose cherishWhiles thus you mocke it: how in stripping itYou more inuest it: ebbing men, indeed(Most often) do so neere the bottome runBy their owne feare, or sloth.
Seb.Pre-thee say on,The setting of thine eye, and cheeke proclaimeA matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,Which throwes thee much to yeeld.
Ant. Thus Sir:Although this Lord of weake remembrance; thisWho shall be of as little memoryWhen he is earth'd, hath here almost perswaded(For hee's a Spirit of perswasion, onelyProfesses to perswade) the King his sonne's aliue,'Tis as impossible that hee's vndrown'd,As he that sleepes heere, swims.
Seb.I haue no hopeThat hee's vndrown'd.
Ant.O, out of that no hope,What great hope haue you? No hope that way, IsAnother way so high a hope, that euenAmbition cannot pierce a winke beyondBut doubt discouery there. Will you grant with meThat Ferdinand is drown'd.
Seb.He's gone.
Ant.Then tell me, who's the next heire of Naples?
Seb.Claribell.
Ant.She that is Queene of Tunis: she that dwelsTen leagues beyond mans life: she that from NaplesCan haue no note, vnlesse the Sun were post:The Man i'th Moone's too slow, till new-borne chinnesBe rough, and Razor-able: She that from whomWe all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast againe,(And by that destiny) to performe an actWhereof, what's past is Prologue; what to comeIn yours, and my discharge.
Seb.What stuffe is this? How say you?'Tis true my brothers daughter's Queene of Tunis,So is she heyre of Naples, 'twixt which RegionsThere is some space.
Ant.A space, whose eu'ry cubitSeemes to cry out, how shall that ClaribellMeasure vs backe to Naples? keepe in Tunis,And let Sebastian wake. Say, this were deathThat now hath seiz'd them, why they were no worseThen now they are: There be that can rule NaplesAs well as he that sleepes: Lords, that can prateAs amply, and vnnecessarilyAs this Gonzallo: I my selse could makeA Chough of as deepe chat: O, that you boreThe minde that I do; what a sleepe were thisFor your aduancement? Do you vnderstand me?
Seb.Me thinkes I do.
Ant.And how do's your contentTender your owne good fortune?
Seb.I rememberYou did supplant your Brother Prospero.
Ant.True:And looke how well my Garments sit vpon me,Much seater then before: My Brothers seruantsWere then my fellowes, now they are my men.
Seb.But for your conscience.
Ant.I Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe'Twould put me to my slipper: But I seele notThis Deity in my bosome: Twentie consciencesThat stand 'twixt me, and Millaine, candied be they,And melt ere they mollest: Heere lies your Brother,No better then the earth he lies vpon,If he were that which now hee's like (that's dead)Whom I with this obedient steele (three inches of it)Can lay to bed for euer: whiles you doing thus,To the perpetuall winke for aye might putThis ancient morsell: this Sir Prudence, whoShould not vpbraid our course: for all the restThey'l take suggestion, as a Cat laps milke,They'l tell the clocke, to any businesse thatWe say befits the houre.
Seb.Thy case, deere FriendShall be my president: As thou got'st Millaine,I'le come by Naples: Draw thy sword, one strokeShall free thee from the tribute which thou paiest,And I the King shall loue thee.
Ant.Draw together:And when I reare my hand, do you the likeTo fall it on Gonzalo.
Seb.O, but one word.
Enter Ariell with Musicke and Song.
Ariel.My Master through his Art foresees the dangerThat you (his friend) are in, and sends me forth(For else his proiect dies) to keepe them liuing.Sings in Gonzaloes care.While you here do snoaring lie,Open-ey'd Conspiracie His time doth take: If of Life you keepe a care, Shake off slumber and beware. Awake, awake.
Ant. Then let vs both be sodaine.
Gon. Now, good Angels preserue the King.
Alo. Why how now hoa; awake? why are you drawn?Wherefore this ghastly looking?
Gen. What's the matter?
Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,(Euen now) we heard a hollow burst of bellowingLike Buls, or rather Lyons, did't not wake you?It strooke mine eare most terribly.
Alo. I heard nothing.
Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a Monsters eare;To make an earthquake: sure it was the roareOf a whole heard of Lyons.
Alo. Heard you this Gonzalo?
Gon. Vpon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming,(And that a strange one too) which did awake me:I shak'd you Sir, and cride: as mine eyes opend,I saw their weapons drawne; there was a noyse,That's verily: 'tis best we stand vpon our guard;Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.
Alo. Lead off this ground & let's make further searchFor my poore sonne.
Gon. Heauens keepe him from these Beasts:For he is sure i'th Island.
Alo. Lead away.
Ariell.Prospero my Lord, shall know what I haue done.Exeunt.So (King) goe safely on to seeke thy Son.