On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard.
Enter aShip-masterand aBoatswain.
Master.
Boatswain!
Boatswain.
Here, master: what cheer?
Master.
Good, speak to the mariners: fall to’t, yarely, or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. [Exit.
EnterMariners.
Boatswain.
Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master's whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough!
EnterAlonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, Gonzalo, and others.
Alonso.
Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master? 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.
Boastswain.
When the sea is. Hence! What care 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 counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the 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. Cheerly, good hearts! 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.
Re-enterBoatswain.
Boatswain.
Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring her to try with main-course, [A cry within.] A plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather or our office.
Re-enterSebastian, 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 noise-maker! We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.
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.
EnterMarinerswet.
Mariners
All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!
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.
For our case is as theirs.I’m out of patience.
Antonio.
We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:
This wide-chapp’d rascal—would thou mightst lie drowning
The washing of ten tides!
Gonzalo.
The washing of ten tides!He ’ll be hang’d yet,
Though every drop of water swear against it
And gape at widest to glut him. [A confused noise within: “Mercy on us!”—
“We split, we split!”—“Farewell, my wife and children!”—
“Farewell, brother!—“ We split, we split, we split!”]
Antonio.
Let ’s all sink with the king.
Sebastian.
Let ’s take leave of him. [ExeuntAntonioandSebastian.
Gonzalo.
Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of
barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death.[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The island: beforeProspero’s cell. EnterProsperoandMiranda.
Miranda.
If by your art, my dearest father, you havePut the wild waters in this roar, allay them.The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,But that the sea, mounting to the welkin’s cheek,Dashes the fire out. O, I have sufferedWith those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,Dash’d all to pieces. O, the cry did knockAgainst my very heart. Poor souls, they perish’d.Had I been any god of power, I wouldHave sunk the sea within the earth or ereIt should the good ship so have swallow’d andThe fraughting souls within her.
Prospero.
The fraughting souls within her. Be collected:
No more amazement: tell your piteous heartThere ’s no harm done.
Miranda.
There ’s no harm done. O, woe the day!
Prospero.
There ’s no harm done. There ’s no harm done. No harm.
I have done nothing but in care of thee,
Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, whoArt ignorant of what thou art, nought knowingOf whence I am, nor that I am more betterThan Prospero, master of a full poor cell,And thy no greater father.
Miranda.
And thy no greater father.More to knowDid never meddle with my thoughts.
Prospero.
And thy no greater father. More to know ’Tis timeI should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,And pluck my magic garment from me. So:[Lays down his mantle.Lie there, my art. Wipe thou mine eyes; have comfort.The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch’dThe very virtue of compassion in thee,I have with such provision in mine artSo safely ordered that there is no soul—No, not so much perdition as an hairBetid to any creature in the vesselWhich thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st sink. Sit down;For thou must now know farther.
Miranda.
For thou must now know farther. You have oftenBegun to tell me what I am, but stopp’dAnd left me to a bootless inquisition,Concluding “Stay: not yet.”
Prospero.
Concluding “Stay: not yet.” The hour ’s now come;The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
Obey and be attentive. Canst thou rememberA time before we came unto this cell?I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast notOut three years old.
Miranda.
Out three years old. Certainly, sir, I can.
Prospero.
By what? by any other house or person?Of any thing the image tell me thatHath kept with thy remembrance.
Miranda.
Hath kept with thy remembrance. ’Tis far offAnd rather like a dream than an assuranceThat my remembrance warrants. Had I notFour or five women once that tended me?
Prospero.
Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is itThat this lives in thy mind? What seest thou elseIn the dark backward and abysm of time?If thou remember’st aught ere thou camest here,How thou camest here thou mayst.
Miranda.
How thou camest here thou mayst. But that I do not.
Prospero.
Twelve years since, Miranda, twelve years since,Thy father was the Duke of Milan andA prince of power.
Miranda.
A prince of power. Sir, are not you my father?
Prospero.
Thy mother was a piece of virtue, andShe said thou wast my daughter; and thy fatherWas Duke of Milan; and thou his only heirAnd princess no worse issued.
Miranda.
And princess no worse issued. O the heavens!What foul play had we, that we came from thence?Or blessed was ’t we did?
Prospero.
Or blessed was ’t we did? Both, both, my girl:By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heaved thence,But blessedly holp hither.
Miranda.
But blessedly holp hither. O, my heart bleedsTo think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to,Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.
Prospero.
My brother and thy uncle, call’d Antonio—I pray thee, mark me—that a brother shouldBe so perfidious!—he whom next thyselfOf all the world I loved and to him putThe manage of my state; as at that timeThrough all the signories it was the firstAnd Prospero the prime duke, being so reputedIn dignity, and for the liberal artsWithout a parallel: those being all my study,
The government I cast upon my brotherAnd to my state grew stranger, being transportedAnd rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle—Dost thou attend me?
Miranda.
Dost thou attend me? Sir, most heedfully.
Prospero.
Being once perfected how to grant suits,How to deny them, who to advance and whoTo trash for over-topping, new createdThe creatures that were mine, I say, or changed ’em,Or else new form’d ’em; having both the keyOf officer and office, set all hearts i’ the stateTo what tune pleased his ear; that now he wasThe ivy which had hid my princely trunk,And suck’d my verdure out on ’t. Thou attend’st not.
Miranda.
O, good sir, I do.
Prospero.
O, good sir, I do. I pray thee, mark me.I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicatedTo closeness and the bettering of my mindWith that which, but by being so retired,O’er-prized all popular rate, in my false brotherAwaked an evil nature; and my trust,Like a good parent, did beget of himA falsehood in its contrary as greatAs 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 oneWho having into truth, by telling of it,Made such a sinner of his memory,To credit his own lie, he did believeHe was indeed the duke; out o’ the substitution,And executing the outward face of royalty,With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing—Dost thou hear?
Miranda.
Dost thou hear? Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
Prospero.
To have no screen between this part he play’dAnd him he play’d it for, he needs will beAbsolute Milan. Me, poor man, my libraryWas dukedom large enough: of temporal royaltiesHe thinks me now incapable; confederates—So dry he was for sway—wi’ the King of NaplesTo give him annual tribute, do him homage,Subject his coronet to his crown and bendThe dukedom yet unbow’d—alas, poor Milan!—To most ignoble stooping.
Miranda.
To most ignoble stooping. O the heavens!
Prospero.
Mark his condition and the event; then tell meIf this might be a brother.
Miranda.
If this might be a brother. I should sinTo think but nobly of my grandmother:Good wombs have borne bad sons.
Prospero.
Good wombs have borne bad sons. Now the condition.This King of Naples, being an enemyTo me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit;Which was, that he, in lieu o’ the premisesOf homage and I know not how much tribute,Should presently extirpate me and mineOut of the dukedom and confer fair MilanWith all the honours on my brother: whereon,A treacherous army levied, one midnightFated to the purpose did Antonio openThe gates of Milan, and, i’ the dead of darkness,The ministers for the purpose hurried thenceMe and thy crying self.
Miranda.
Me and thy crying self. Alack, for pity!I, not remembering how I cried out then,Will cry it o’er again: it is a hintThat wrings mine eyes to 't.
Prospero.
That wrings mine eyes to 't. Hear a little furtherAnd then I ’ll bring thee to the present businessWhich now ’s upon ’s; without the which this storyWere most impertinent.
Miranda.
If this might be a brother. Wherefore did they notThat hour destroy us?
Prospero.
That hour destroy us? Well demanded, wench:
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,So dear the love my people bore me, nor setA mark so bloody on the business, butWith colours fairer painted their foul ends.In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,Bore us some leagues to sea; where they preparedA rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg’d,Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very ratsInstinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,To cry to the sea that roar’d to us, to sighTo the winds whose pity, sighing back again,Did us but loving wrong.
Miranda.
Did us but loving wrong. Alack, what troubleWas I then to you!
Prospero.
Was I then to you! O, a cherubinThou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile,Infused with a fortitude from heaven,When I have deck’d the sea with drops full salt,Under my burthen groan’d; which raised in meAn undergoing stomach, to bear upAgainst what should ensue.
Miranda.
Against what should ensue. How came we ashore?
Prospero.
By Providence divine.Some food we had and some fresh water thatA noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity, being then appointedMaster of this design, did give us, withRich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,Knowing I loved my books, he furnish’d meFrom mine own library with volumes thatI prize above my dukedom.
Miranda.
I prize above my dukedom. Would I mightBut ever see that man!
Prospero.
But ever see that man! Now I rise:[Resumes his mantle.Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow,Here in this island we arrived; and hereHave I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profitThan other princesses can that have more timeFor 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 reasonFor raising this sea-storm?
Prospero.
For raising this sea-storm? Know thus far forth.By accident most strange, bountiful FortuneNow, my dear lady, hath mine enemiesBrought to this shore; and by my prescienceI find my zenith doth depend uponA most auspicious star, whose influenceIf now I court not but omit, my fortunesWill ever after droop. Here cease more questions:
Thou art inclined to sleep; ’tis a good dulness,And give it way: I know thou canst not choose. [Mirandasleeps.Come away, servant, come. I am ready now.Approach, my Ariel, come.
EnterAriel.
Ariel.
All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I comeTo answer thy best pleasure; be ’t to fly,To swim, to dive into the fire, to rideOn the curl’d clouds, to thy strong bidding taskAriel and all his quality.
Prospero.
Ariel and all his quality. Hast thou, spirit,Perform’d 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 waist, the deck, in every cabin,I flamed amazement: sometime I ’ld divide,And burn in many places; on the topmast,The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,Then meet and join. Jove’s lightnings, the precursorsO’ the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentaryAnd sight-outrunning were not: the fire and cracksOf sulphurous roaring the most mighty NeptuneSeem’d to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,Yea, his dread trident shake.
Prospero.
Yea, his dread trident shake. My brave spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coilWould not infect his reason?
Ariel.
Would not infect his reason? Not a soulBut felt a fever of the mad and play’dSome tricks of desperation. All but marinersPlunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,Then all afire with me: the king’s son, Ferdinand,With hair up-staring,—then like reeds, not hair,—Was the first man that leap’d; cried, “Hell is empty,And all the devils are here.”
Prospero.
And all the devils are here. Why, that ’s my spiritBut was not this nigh shore?
Ariel.
But was not this nigh shore? Close by, my master.
Prospero.
But are they, Ariel, safe?
Ariel.
But are they, Ariel, safe? Not a hair perish’d;On their sustaining garments not a blemish,But fresher than before: and, as thou badest 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 sighsIn an odd angle of the isle and sitting,His arms in this sad knot.
Prospero.
His arms in this sad knot. Of the king’s shipThe mariners say how thou hast disposedAnd all the rest o’ the fleet.
Ariel.
And all the rest o’ the fleet. Safely in harbourIs the king’s ship; in the deep nook, where onceThou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dewFrom the still-vex’d Bermoothes, there she ’s hid:The mariners all under hatches stow’d;Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour,I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleetWhich I dispersed, they all have met againAnd are upon the Mediterranean flote,Bound sadly home for Naples,Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’dAnd his great person perish.
Prospero.
And his great person perish. Ariel, thy chargeExactly is perform’d: but there ’s more work.What is the time o’ the day?
Ariel.
What is the time o’ the day? Past the mid season.
Prospero.
At least two glasses. The time ’twixt six and nowMust 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 perform’d me.
Prospero.
Which is not yet perform’d me. How now? moody?What is ’t thou canst demand?
Ariel.
What is ’t thou canst demand? My liberty.
Prospero.
Before the time be out? no more!
Ariel.
Before the time be out? no more! I prithee,Remember I have done thee worthy service;Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, servedWithout or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promiseTo bate me a full year.
Prospero.
To bate me a full year. Dost thou forgetFrom what a torment I did free thee?
Ariel.
From what a torment I did free thee? No.
Prospero.
Thou dost, and think’st it much to tread the oozeOf the salt deep,To run upon the sharp wind of the north,To do me business in the veins o’ the earthWhen it is baked with frost.
Ariel.
When it is baked with frost. I do not, sir.
Prospero.
Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgotThe foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envyWas grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?
Ariel.
No, sir.
Prospero.
No, sir. Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.
Ariel.
Sir, in Argier.
Prospero.
Sir, in Argier. O, was she so? I mustOnce in a month recount what thou hast been,Which thou forget’st. This damn’d witch Sycorax,For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terribleTo enter human hearing, from Argier,Thou know’st, was banish’d: for one thing she didThey would not take her life. Is not this true?
Ariel.
Ay, sir.
Prospero.
This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with childAnd here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,As thou report’st thyself, wast then her servant;And, for thou wast a spirit too delicateTo act her earthy and abhorr’d commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,By help of her more potent ministersAnd in her most unmitigable rage,Into a cloven pine; within which riftImprison’d thou didst painfully remainA dozen years; within which space she diedAnd left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groansAs 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 withA human shape.
Ariel.
A human shape. Yes, Caliban her son.
Prospero.
Dull thing, I say so; he, that CalibanWhom now I keep in service. Thou best know’stWhat torment I did find thee in; thy groansDid make wolves howl and penetrate the breastsOf ever angry bears: it was a tormentTo lay upon the damn’d, which SycoraxCould not again undo: it was mine art,When I arrived and heard thee, that made gapeThe pine and let thee out.
Ariel.
The pine and let thee out. I thank thee, master.
Prospero.
If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oakAnd peg thee in his knotty entrails tillThou hast howl’d away twelve winters.
Ariel.
Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters. Pardon, master;I will be correspondent to commandAnd do my spiriting gently.
Prospero.
And do my spiriting gently. Do so, and after two daysI will discharge thee.
Ariel.
I will discharge thee. That ’s my noble master!What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?
Prospero.
Go make thyself like a nymph o’ the sea: be subjectTo no sight but thine and mine, invisibleTo every eyeball else. Go take this shapeAnd hither come in ’t: go, hence with diligence![ExitAriel.Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;Awake!
Miranda.
Awake! The strangeness of your story putHeaviness in me.
Prospero.
Heaviness in me. Shake it off. Come on;We ’ll visit Caliban my slave, who neverYields us kind answer.
Miranda.
Yields us kind answer. ’Tis a villain, sir,I do not love to look on.
Prospero.
I do not love to look on. But, as ’tis,We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,Fetch in our wood and serves in officesThat profit us, What, ho! slave! Caliban!Thou earth, thou! speak.
Caliban.
Thou earth, thou! spea[Within] There ’s wood enough within.
Prospero.
Come forth, I say! there ’s other business for thee:Come, thou tortoise! when?Re-enterAriellike a water-nymph.Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,Hark in thine ear.
Ariel.
Hark in thine ear, My lord, it shall be done.[Exit.
Prospero.
Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himselfUpon thy wicked dam, come forth!EnterCaliban.
Caliban.
As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’dWith raven’s feather from unwholesome fenDrop on you both! a south-west blow on yeAnd blister you all o’er!
Prospero.
For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchinsShall, for that vast of night that they may work,All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch’dAs thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stingingThan bees that made ’em.
Caliban.
Than bees that made ’em.I must eat my dinner.This island ’s mine, by Sycorax my mother,Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give meWater with berries in ’t, and teach me howTo name the bigger light, and how the less,That burn by day and night: and then I loved theeAnd 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 charmsOf 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 meTn this hard rock, whiles you do keep from meThe rest o’ the island.
Prospero.
The rest o’ the island. Thou most lying slave,Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged theeIn mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violateThe honour of my child.
Caliban.
O ho, O ho! would ’t had been done!Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled elseThis isle with Calibans.
Prospero.
This isle with Calibans. 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 hourOne thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble likeA thing most brutish, I endow’d thy purposesWith words that made them known. But thy vile race,Though thou didst learn, had that in ’t which good naturesCould not abide to be with; therefore wast thouDeservedly confined into this rock,Who hadst deserved more than a prison.
Caliban.
You taught me language; and my profit on ’tIs, I know how to curse. The red plague rid youFor learning me your language!
Prospero.
For learning me your language! 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 unwillinglyWhat I command, I ’Il rack thee with old cramps,Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roarThat beasts shall tremble at thy din.
Caliban.
That beasts shall tremble at thy din. No, pray thee.[Aside.] I must obey: his art is of such power,It would control my dam’s god, Setebos,And made a vassal of him.
Prospero.
And made a vassal of him. So, slave; hence![ExitCaliban.
Re-enterAriel, invisible, playing and singing;Ferdinandfollowing.
Ariel’s song. Come unto these yellow sands,And then take hands:Courtsied when you have and kiss’dThe wild waves whist,Foot it featly here and there;And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
Ariel.Hark, hark ! I hearThe strain of strutting chanticleerCry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.
Ferdinand.
Where should this music be? i’ the air or the earth?It sounds no more: and, sure, it waits uponSome god o’ the 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 passionWith its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it,Or it hath drawn me rather. But ’tis gone.No, it begins again.
Full fathom five thy father lies;Of his bones are coral made;Those are pearls that were his eyes:Nothing of him that doth fadeBut doth suffer a sea-changeInto something rich and strange,Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Burthen.
Ding-dong.
Ariel.
Hark! now I hear them,—Ding-dong, bell.
Ferdinand.
The ditty does remember my drown’d father.This is no mortal business, nor no soundThat the earth owes. I hear it now above me.
Prospero.
The fringed curtains of thine eye advanceAnd say what thou seest yond.
Miranda.
And say what thou seest yond. 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 sensesAs we have, such. This gallant which thou seestWas in the wreck; and, but he’s something stain’d
With grief that ’s beauty’s canker, thou mightst call himA goodly person: he hath lost his fellowsAnd strays about to find ’em.
Miranda.
And strays about to find ’em. I might call himA thing divine, for nothing naturalI ever saw so noble.
Prospero.
I ever saw so noble. [Aside.] It goes on, I see,As my soul prompts it, Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free theeWithin two days for this.
Ferdinand.
Within two days for this. Most sure, the goddessOn whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayerMay know if you remain upon this island;And that you will some good instruction giveHow I may bear me here: my prime request,Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!If you be maid or no?
Miranda.
If you be maid or no? No wonder, sir;But certainly a maid.
Ferdinand.
But certainly a maid. My language! heavens!I am the best of them that speak this speech,Were I but where ’tis spoken.
Prospero.
Were I but where ’tis spoken. How? the best?What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?
Ferdinand.
A single thing, as I am now, that wondersTo 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, beheldThe king my father wreck’d.
Miranda.
The king my father wreck’d. Alack, for mercy!
Ferdinand.
Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan.And his brave son being twain.
Prospero.
And his brave son being twain. [Aside] The Duke of MilanAnd his more braver daughter could control thee,If now ’twere fit to do ’t. At the first sightThey have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,I ’ll set thee free for this. [ToFerdinand] A word, good sir;I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Miranda.
Why speaks my father so ungently? ThisIs the third man that e’er I saw, the firstThat e’er I sigh’d for: pity move my fatherTo be inclined my way!
Ferdinand.
To be inclined my way! O, if a virgin,And your affection not gone forth, I ’ll make youThe queen of Naples.
Prospero.
The queen of Naples. Soft, sir! one word more.[Aside.] They are both in either’s powers; but this swift businessI must uneasy make, lest too light winningMake the prize light. [ToFerdinand] One word more; I charge theeThat thou attend me: thou dost here usurpThe name thou owest not; and hast put thyselfUpon this island as a spy, to win itFrom me, the lord on ’t.
Ferdinand.
From me, the lord on ’t. 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.
Good things will strive to dwell with ’t. Follow me.Speak not you for him; he’s a traitor. Come;I ’ll manacle thy neck and feet together:Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall beThe fresh-brook muscles, wither’d roots and husksWherein the acorn cradled. Follow.
Ferdinand.
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. No;I will resist such entertainment tillMine enemy has more power.[Draws, and is charmed from moving.
Miranda.
Mine enemy has more power. O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, forHe ’s gentle and not fearful.
Prospero.
He ’s gentle and not fearful. What? I say,My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscienceIs so possess’d with guilt: come from thy ward,For I can here disarm thee with this stickAnd make thy weapon drop.
Miranda.
And make thy weapon drop. Beseech you, father.
Prospero.
Hence! hang not on my garments.
Miranda.
Hence! hang not on my garments. Sir, have pity;I'll be his surety.
Prospero.
I'll be his surety. Silence! one word moreShall 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,Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!Yo the most of men this is a CalibanAnd they to him are angels.
Miranda.
And they to him are angels. My affectionsAre then most humble; I have no ambitionTo see a goodlier man.
Prospero.
To see a goodlier man. Come on; obey:Thy nerves are in their infancy againAnd have no vigour in them.
Ferdinand.
And have no vigour in them. So they are;My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.My father’s loss, the weakness which I feel,The wreck of all my friends, nor this man’s threats,To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,Might I but through my prison once a dayBehold this maid; all corners else o’ the earthLet liberty make use of; space enoughHave I in such a prison.
Prospero.
Have I in such a prison. [Aside]. It works. [ToFerdinand] Come on.Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [ToFerdinand] Follow me.[ToAriel] Hark what thou else shalt do me.
Miranda.
[To Ariel] Hark what thou else shalt do me. Be of comfort:My father ’s of a better nature, sir,Than he appears by speech: this is unwontedWhich now came from him.
Prospero.
Which now came from him. Thou shalt be as freeAs mountain winds: but then exactly doAll points of my command.
