Complete Plays, The (50 page)

Caliban

No, pray thee.

Aside

I must obey: his art is of such power,
It would control my dam’s god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.

Prospero

So, slave; hence!

Exit Caliban

Re-enter Ariel, invisible, playing and singing; Ferdinand following

Ariel’s song.
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:
Courtsied when you have and kiss’d
The wild waves whist,
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
Hark, hark!

Burthen (dispersedly, within)

The watch-dogs bark!

Burthen Bow-wow

Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

Ferdinand

Where should this music be? i’ the air or the earth?
It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon
Some 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 passion
With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it,
Or it hath drawn me rather. But ’tis gone.
No, it begins again.

Ariel sings

Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell

Burthen Ding-dong

Hark! now I hear them,— Ding-dong, bell.

Ferdinand

The ditty does remember my drown’d father.
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.

Prospero

The fringed curtains of thine eye advance
And say what thou seest yond.

Miranda

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 senses
As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest
Was in the wreck; and, but he’s something stain’d
With grief that’s beauty’s canker, thou mightst call him
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows
And strays about to find ’em.

Miranda

I might call him
A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

Prospero

[Aside]
 
It goes on, I see,
As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I’ll free thee
Within two days for this.

Ferdinand

Most sure, the goddess
On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer
May know if you remain upon this island;
And that you will some good instruction give
How I may bear me here: my prime request,
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
If you be maid or no?

Miranda

No wonder, sir;
But certainly a maid.

Ferdinand

My language! heavens!
I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where ’tis spoken.

Prospero

How? the best?
What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?

Ferdinand

A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
To 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, beheld
The king my father wreck’d.

Miranda

Alack, for mercy!

Ferdinand

Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan
And his brave son being twain.

Prospero

[Aside]
 
The Duke of Milan
And his more braver daughter could control thee,
If now ’twere fit to do’t. At the first sight
They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,
I’ll set thee free for this.

To Ferdinand

A word, good sir;
I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.

Miranda

Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that e’er I saw, the first
That e’er I sigh’d for: pity move my father
To be inclined my way!

Ferdinand

O, if a virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, I’ll make you
The queen of Naples.

Prospero

Soft, sir! one word more.

Aside

They are both in either’s powers; but this swift business
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
Make the prize light.

To Ferdinand

One word more; I charge thee
That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself
Upon this island as a spy, to win it
From me, the lord on’t.

Ferdinand

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

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 be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither’d roots and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

Ferdinand

No;
I will resist such entertainment till
Mine enemy has more power.

Draws, and is charmed from moving

Miranda

O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He’s gentle and not fearful.

Prospero

What? I say,
My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience
Is so possess’d with guilt: come from thy ward,
For I can here disarm thee with this stick
And make thy weapon drop.

Miranda

Beseech you, father.

Prospero

Hence! hang not on my garments.

Miranda

Sir, have pity;
I’ll be his surety.

Prospero

Silence! one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an imposter! hush!
Thou think’st there is no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban
And they to him are angels.

Miranda

My affections
Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

Prospero

Come on; obey:
Thy nerves are in their infancy again
And have no vigour in them.

Ferdinand

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 day
Behold this maid: all corners else o’ the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

Prospero

[Aside]
 
It works.

To Ferdinand

Come on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!

To Ferdinand

Follow me.

To Ariel

Hark what thou else shalt do me.

Miranda

Be of comfort;
My father’s of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
Which now came from him.

Prospero

Thou shalt be free
As mountain winds: but then exactly do
All points of my command.

Ariel

To the syllable.

Prospero

Come, follow. Speak not for him.

Exeunt

A
CT
II

S
CENE
I. A
NOTHER
PART
OF
THE
ISLAND
.

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others

Gonzalo

Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,
So have we all, of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe
Is common; every day some sailor’s wife,
The masters of some merchant and the merchant
Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.

Alonso

Prithee, peace.

Sebastian

He receives comfort like cold porridge.

Antonio

The visitor will not give him o’er so.

Sebastian

Look he’s winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.

Gonzalo

Sir,—

Sebastian

One: tell.

Gonzalo

When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d,
Comes to the entertainer —

Sebastian

A dollar.

Gonzalo

Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed.

Sebastian

You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

Gonzalo

Therefore, my lord,—

Antonio

Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

Alonso

I prithee, spare.

Gonzalo

Well, I have done: but yet,—

Sebastian

He will be talking.

Antonio

Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?

Sebastian

The old cock.

Antonio

The cockerel.

Sebastian

Done. The wager?

Antonio

A laughter.

Sebastian

A match!

Adrian

Though this island seem to be desert,—

Sebastian

Ha, ha, ha! So, you’re paid.

Adrian

Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,—

Sebastian

Yet,—

Adrian

Yet,—

Antonio

He could not miss’t.

Adrian

It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate temperance.

Antonio

Temperance was a delicate wench.

Sebastian

Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

Adrian

The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

Sebastian

As if it had lungs and rotten ones.

Antonio

Or as ’twere perfumed by a fen.

Gonzalo

Here is everything advantageous to life.

Antonio

True; save means to live.

Sebastian

Of that there’s none, or little.

Gonzalo

How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

Antonio

The ground indeed is tawny.

Sebastian

With an eye of green in’t.

Antonio

He misses not much.

Sebastian

No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.

Gonzalo

But the rarity of it is,— which is indeed almost beyond credit,—

Sebastian

As many vouched rarities are.

Gonzalo

That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water.

Antonio

If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies?

Sebastian

Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report

Gonzalo

Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king’s fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.

Sebastian

’Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Adrian

Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gonzalo

Not since widow Dido’s time.

Antonio

Widow! a pox o’ that! How came that widow in? widow Dido!

Sebastian

What if he had said ‘widower Aeneas’ too? Good Lord, how you take it!

Adrian

‘Widow Dido’ said you? you make me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

Gonzalo

This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Adrian

Carthage?

Gonzalo

I assure you, Carthage.

Sebastian

His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath raised the wall and houses too.

Antonio

What impossible matter will he make easy next?

Sebastian

I think he will carry this island home in his pocket and give it his son for an apple.

Antonio

And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.

Gonzalo

Ay.

Antonio

Why, in good time.

Gonzalo

Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen.

Antonio

And the rarest that e’er came there.

Sebastian

Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

Antonio

O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.

Gonzalo

Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Antonio

That sort was well fished for.

Gonzalo

When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage?

Alonso

You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy removed
I ne’er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?

Francisco

Sir, he may live:
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head
’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar’d
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bow’d,
As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt
He came alive to land.