| ACT I SCENE II | The island. Before PROSPERO'S cell. | |
| | Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA | |
| MIRANDA | If by your art, my dearest father, you have | |
| | Put 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, | 5 |
| | Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered | |
| | With 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 knock | |
| | Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd. | 10 |
| | Had I been any god of power, I would | |
| | Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere | |
| | It should the good ship so have swallow'd and | |
| | The fraughting souls within her. | |
| PROSPERO | Be collected: | 15 |
| | No more amazement: tell your piteous heart | |
| | There's no harm done. | |
| MIRANDA | O, woe the day! | |
| PROSPERO | No harm. | |
| | I have done nothing but in care of thee, | 20 |
| | Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who | |
| | Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing | |
| | Of whence I am, nor that I am more better | |
| | Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, | |
| | And thy no greater father. | 25 |
| MIRANDA | More to know | |
| | Did never meddle with my thoughts. | |
| PROSPERO | 'Tis time | |
| | I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, | |
| | And pluck my magic garment from me. So: | 30 |
| | Lays down his mantle | |
| | Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. | |
| | The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd | |
| | The very virtue of compassion in thee, | |
| | I have with such provision in mine art | |
| | So safely ordered that there is no soul-- | 35 |
| | No, not so much perdition as an hair | |
| | Betid to any creature in the vessel | |
| | Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down; | |
| | For thou must now know farther. | |
| MIRANDA | You have often | 40 |
| | Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd | |
| | And left me to a bootless inquisition, | |
| | Concluding 'Stay: not yet.' | |
| PROSPERO | The hour's now come; | |
| | The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; | 45 |
| | Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember | |
| | A time before we came unto this cell? | |
| | I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not | |
| | Out three years old. | |
| MIRANDA | Certainly, sir, I can. | 50 |
| PROSPERO | By what? by any other house or person? | |
| | Of any thing the image tell me that | |
| | Hath kept with thy remembrance. | |
| MIRANDA | 'Tis far off | |
| | And rather like a dream than an assurance | 55 |
| | That my remembrance warrants. Had I not | |
| | Four or five women once that tended me? | |
| PROSPERO | Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it | |
| | That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else | |
| | In the dark backward and abysm of time? | 60 |
| | If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here, | |
| | How thou camest here thou mayst. | |
| MIRANDA | But that I do not. | |
| PROSPERO | Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, | |
| | Thy father was the Duke of Milan and | 65 |
| | A prince of power. | |
| MIRANDA | Sir, are not you my father? | |
| PROSPERO | Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and | |
| | She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father | |
| | Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir | 70 |
| | And princess no worse issued. | |
| MIRANDA | O the heavens! | |
| | What foul play had we, that we came from thence? | |
| | Or blessed was't we did? | |
| PROSPERO | Both, both, my girl: | 75 |
| | By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence, | |
| | But blessedly holp hither. | |
| MIRANDA | O, my heart bleeds | |
| | To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to, | |
| | Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther. | 80 |
| PROSPERO | My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio-- | |
| | I pray thee, mark me--that a brother should | |
| | Be so perfidious!--he whom next thyself | |
| | Of all the world I loved and to him put | |
| | The manage of my state; as at that time | 85 |
| | Through all the signories it was the first | |
| | And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed | |
| | In dignity, and for the liberal arts | |
| | Without a parallel; those being all my study, | |
| | The government I cast upon my brother | 90 |
| | And to my state grew stranger, being transported | |
| | And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle-- | |
| | Dost thou attend me? | |
| MIRANDA | Sir, most heedfully. | |
| PROSPERO | Being once perfected how to grant suits, | 95 |
| | How to deny them, who to advance and who | |
| | To trash for over-topping, new created | |
| | The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em, | |
| | Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key | |
| | Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state | 100 |
| | To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was | |
| | The 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 | I pray thee, mark me. | 105 |
| | I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated | |
| | To closeness and the bettering of my mind | |
| | With that which, but by being so retired, | |
| | O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother | |
| | Awaked an evil nature; and my trust, | 110 |
| | Like a good parent, did beget of him | |
| | A falsehood in its contrary as great | |
| | As my trust was; which had indeed no limit, | |
| | A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded, | |
| | Not only with what my revenue yielded, | 115 |
| | But what my power might else exact, like one | |
| | Who having into truth, by telling of it, | |
| | Made such a sinner of his memory, | |
| | To credit his own lie, he did believe | |
| | He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution | 120 |
| | And executing the outward face of royalty, | |
| | With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing-- | |
| | Dost thou hear? | |
| MIRANDA | Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. | |
| PROSPERO | To have no screen between this part he play'd | 125 |
| | And him he play'd it for, he needs will be | |
| | Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library | |
| | Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties | |
| | He thinks me now incapable; confederates-- | |
| | So dry he was for sway--wi' the King of Naples | 130 |
| | To give him annual tribute, do him homage, | |
| | Subject his coronet to his crown and bend | |
| | The dukedom yet unbow'd--alas, poor Milan!-- | |
| | To most ignoble stooping. | |
| MIRANDA | O the heavens! | 135 |
| PROSPERO | Mark his condition and the event; then tell me | |
| | If this might be a brother. | |
| MIRANDA | I should sin | |
| | To think but nobly of my grandmother: | |
| | Good wombs have borne bad sons. | 140 |
| PROSPERO | Now the condition. | |
| | The King of Naples, being an enemy | |
| | To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; | |
| | Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises | |
| | Of homage and I know not how much tribute, | 145 |
| | Should presently extirpate me and mine | |
| | Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan | |
| | With all the honours on my brother: whereon, | |
| | A treacherous army levied, one midnight | |
| | Fated to the purpose did Antonio open | 150 |
| | The gates of Milan, and, i' the dead of darkness, | |
| | The ministers for the purpose hurried thence | |
| | Me and thy crying self. | |
| MIRANDA | Alack, for pity! | |
| | I, not remembering how I cried out then, | 155 |
| | Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint | |
| | That wrings mine eyes to't. | |
| PROSPERO | Hear a little further | |
| | And then I'll bring thee to the present business | |
| | Which now's upon's; without the which this story | 160 |
| | Were most impertinent. | |
| MIRANDA | Wherefore did they not | |
| | That hour destroy us? | |
| PROSPERO | Well demanded, wench: | |
| | My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, | 165 |
| | So dear the love my people bore me, nor set | |
| | A mark so bloody on the business, but | |
| | With colours fairer painted their foul ends. | |
| | In few, they hurried us aboard a bark, | |
| | Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared | 170 |
| | A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, | |
| | Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats | |
| | Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us, | |
| | To cry to the sea that roar'd to us, to sigh | |
| | To the winds whose pity, sighing back again, | 175 |
| | Did us but loving wrong. | |
| MIRANDA | Alack, what trouble | |
| | Was I then to you! | |
| PROSPERO | O, a cherubim | |
| | Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile. | 180 |
| | 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 me | |
| | An undergoing stomach, to bear up | |
| | Against what should ensue. | 185 |
| MIRANDA | How came we ashore? | |
| PROSPERO | By Providence divine. | |
| | Some food we had and some fresh water that | |
| | A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, | |
| | Out of his charity, being then appointed | 190 |
| | Master of this design, did give us, with | |
| | Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries, | |
| | Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness, | |
| | Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me | |
| | From mine own library with volumes that | 195 |
| | I prize above my dukedom. | |
| MIRANDA | Would I might | |
| | But ever see that man! | |
| PROSPERO | Now I arise: | |
| | Resumes his mantle | |
| | Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. | 200 |
| | Here in this island we arrived; and here | |
| | Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit | |
| | Than other princesses can that have more time | |
| | For vainer hours and tutors not so careful. | |
| MIRANDA | Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir, | 205 |
| | For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason | |
| | For raising this sea-storm? | |
| PROSPERO | Know thus far forth. | |
| | By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, | |
| | Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies | 210 |
| | Brought to this shore; and by my prescience | |
| | I find my zenith doth depend upon | |
| | A most auspicious star, whose influence | |
| | If now I court not but omit, my fortunes | |
| | Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions: | 215 |
| | Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness, | |
| | And give it way: I know thou canst not choose. | |
| | MIRANDA sleeps | |
| | Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. | |
| | Approach, my Ariel, come. | |
| | Enter ARIEL | |
| ARIEL | All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come | 220 |
| | To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, | |
| | To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride | |
| | On the curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task | |
| | Ariel and all his quality. | |
| PROSPERO | Hast thou, spirit, | 225 |
| | 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, | 230 |
| | And burn in many places; on the topmast, | |
| | The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, | |
| | Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors | |
| | O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary | |
| | And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks | 235 |
| | Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune | |
| | Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble, | |
| | Yea, his dread trident shake. | |
| PROSPERO | My brave spirit! | |
| | Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil | 240 |
| | Would not infect his reason? | |
| ARIEL | Not a soul | |
| | But felt a fever of the mad and play'd | |
| | Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners | |
| | Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, | 245 |
| | 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 | Why that's my spirit! | 250 |
| | But was not this nigh shore? | |
| ARIEL | Close by, my master. | |
| PROSPERO | But are they, Ariel, safe? | |
| ARIEL | Not a hair perish'd; | |
| | On their sustaining garments not a blemish, | 255 |
| | 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 sighs | |
| | In an odd angle of the isle and sitting, | 260 |
| | His arms in this sad knot. | |
| PROSPERO | Of the king's ship | |
| | The mariners say how thou hast disposed | |
| | And all the rest o' the fleet. | |
| ARIEL | Safely in harbour | 265 |
| | Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once | |
| | Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew | |
| | From 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, | 270 |
| | I have left asleep; and for the rest o' the fleet | |
| | Which I dispersed, they all have met again | |
| | And are upon the Mediterranean flote, | |
| | Bound sadly home for Naples, | |
| | Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd | 275 |
| | And his great person perish. | |
| PROSPERO | Ariel, thy charge | |
| | Exactly is perform'd: but there's more work. | |
| | What is the time o' the day? | |
| ARIEL | Past the mid season. | 280 |
| PROSPERO | At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now | |
| | Must 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. | 285 |
| PROSPERO | How now? moody? | |
| | What is't thou canst demand? | |
| ARIEL | My liberty. | |
| PROSPERO | Before the time be out? no more! | |
| ARIEL | I prithee, | 290 |
| | Remember I have done thee worthy service; | |
| | Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served | |
| | Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise | |
| | To bate me a full year. | |
| PROSPERO | Dost thou forget | 295 |
| | From what a torment I did free thee? | |
| ARIEL | No. | |
| PROSPERO | Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the ooze | |
| | Of the salt deep, | |
| | To run upon the sharp wind of the north, | 300 |
| | To do me business in the veins o' the earth | |
| | When it is baked with frost. | |
| ARIEL | I do not, sir. | |
| PROSPERO | Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot | |
| | The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy | 305 |
| | Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her? | |
| ARIEL | No, sir. | |
| PROSPERO | Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me. | |
| ARIEL | Sir, in Argier. | |
| PROSPERO | O, was she so? I must | 310 |
| | Once in a month recount what thou hast been, | |
| | Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax, | |
| | For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible | |
| | To enter human hearing, from Argier, | |
| | Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did | 315 |
| | They would not take her life. Is not this true? | |
| ARIEL | Ay, sir. | |
| PROSPERO | This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child | |
| | And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, | |
| | As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant; | 320 |
| | And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate | |
| | To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, | |
| | Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, | |
| | By help of her more potent ministers | |
| | And in her most unmitigable rage, | 325 |
| | Into a cloven pine; within which rift | |
| | Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain | |
| | A dozen years; within which space she died | |
| | And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans | |
| | As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island-- | 330 |
| | Save for the son that she did litter here, | |
| | A freckled whelp hag-born--not honour'd with | |
| | A human shape. | |
| ARIEL | Yes, Caliban her son. | |
| PROSPERO | Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban | 335 |
| | Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st | |
| | What torment I did find thee in; thy groans | |
| | Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts | |
| | Of ever angry bears: it was a torment | |
| | To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax | 340 |
| | Could not again undo: it was mine art, | |
| | When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape | |
| | The pine and let thee out. | |
| ARIEL | I thank thee, master. | |
| PROSPERO | If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak | 345 |
| | And peg thee in his knotty entrails till | |
| | Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. | |
| ARIEL | Pardon, master; | |
| | I will be correspondent to command | |
| | And do my spiriting gently. | 350 |
| PROSPERO | Do so, and after two days | |
| | I will discharge thee. | |
| ARIEL | 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 subject | 355 |
| | To no sight but thine and mine, invisible | |
| | To every eyeball else. Go take this shape | |
| | And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence! | |
| | Exit ARIEL | |
| | Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake! | |
| MIRANDA | The strangeness of your story put | 360 |
| | Heaviness in me. | |
| PROSPERO | Shake it off. Come on; | |
| | We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never | |
| | Yields us kind answer. | |
| MIRANDA | 'Tis a villain, sir, | 365 |
| | I do not love to look on. | |
| PROSPERO | But, as 'tis, | |
| | We cannot miss him: he does make our fire, | |
| | Fetch in our wood and serves in offices | |
| | That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban! | 370 |
| | Thou earth, thou! speak. | |
| CALIBAN | Within | |
| PROSPERO | Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee: | |
| | Come, thou tortoise! when? | |
| | Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph | |
| | Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, | |
| | Hark in thine ear. | 375 |
| ARIEL | My lord it shall be done. | |
| | Exit | |
| PROSPERO | Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself | |
| | Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! | |
| | Enter CALIBAN | |
| CALIBAN | As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd | |
| | With raven's feather from unwholesome fen | 380 |
| | Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye | |
| | And blister you all o'er! | |
| PROSPERO | For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, | |
| | Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins | |
| | Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, | 385 |
| | All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd | |
| | As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging | |
| | Than bees that made 'em. | |
| CALIBAN | I must eat my dinner. | |
| | This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, | 390 |
| | Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first, | |
| | Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me | |
| | Water with berries in't, and teach me how | |
| | To name the bigger light, and how the less, | |
| | That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee | 395 |
| | And 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 charms | |
| | Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! | |
| | For I am all the subjects that you have, | 400 |
| | Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me | |
| | In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me | |
| | The rest o' the island. | |
| PROSPERO | Thou most lying slave, | |
| | Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee, | 405 |
| | Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee | |
| | In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate | |
| | The honour of my child. | |
| CALIBAN | O ho, O ho! would't had been done! | |
| | Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else | 410 |
| | This isle with Calibans. | |
| PROSPERO | 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 hour | 415 |
| | One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, | |
| | Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like | |
| | A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes | |
| | With words that made them known. But thy vile race, | |
| | Though thou didst learn, had that in't which | 420 |
| | good natures | |
| | Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou | |
| | Deservedly confined into this rock, | |
| | Who hadst deserved more than a prison. | |
| CALIBAN | You taught me language; and my profit on't | 425 |
| | Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you | |
| | For learning me your language! | |
| PROSPERO | Hag-seed, hence! | |
| | Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best, | |
| | To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice? | 430 |
| | If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly | |
| | What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps, | |
| | Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar | |
| | That beasts shall tremble at thy din. | |
| CALIBAN | No, pray thee. | 435 |
| | 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. | 440 |
| | 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; | 445 |
| | 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 | 450 |
| | 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, | 455 |
| | 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. | 460 |
| | 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 | 465 |
| | 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 | 470 |
| | 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, | 475 |
| | 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 | 480 |
| | 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. | 485 |
| PROSPERO | Aside | |
| | 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; | 490 |
| | 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; | 495 |
| | 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? | 500 |
| | 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 | 505 |
| | 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 | |
| | And his more braver daughter could control thee, | 510 |
| | 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. | 515 |
| 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, | 520 |
| | 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 | 525 |
| | 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 | 530 |
| | 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. | 535 |
| 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 | 540 |
| | 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, | 545 |
| | 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 | 550 |
| | 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. | 555 |
| 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! | 560 |
| | 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 | 565 |
| | 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. | 570 |
| 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, | 575 |
| | 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 | |
| | To FERDINAND | |
| | Come on. | 580 |
| | 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, | 585 |
| | 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. | 590 |
| ARIEL | To the syllable. | |
| PROSPERO | Come, follow. Speak not for him. | |
| | Exeunt | |