ANTONIO
O,
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
Most often do so near the bottom run
By their own fear or sloth.

SEBASTIAN
Prithee, say on:
The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim
A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
Which throes thee much to yield.

ANTONIO
Thus, sir:
Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earth’d, hath here almost persuade, —
For he’s a spirit of persuasion, only
Professes to persuade, the king his son’s alive,
’Tis as impossible that he’s undrown’d
And he that sleeps here swims.

SEBASTIAN
I have no hope
That he’s undrown’d.

ANTONIO
O, out of that ‘no hope’
What great hope have you! no hope that way is
Another way so high a hope that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me
That Ferdinand is drown’d?

SEBASTIAN
He’s gone.

ANTONIO
Then, tell me,
Who’s the next heir of Naples?

SEBASTIAN
Claribel.

ANTONIO
She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells
Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post, —
The man i’ the moon’s too slow, — till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable; she that from whom?
We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again,
And by that destiny, to perform an act
Whereof what’s past is prologue; what to come,
In yours and my discharge.

SEBASTIAN
What stuff is this! how say you?
’Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s queen of Tunis;
So is she heir of Naples; ’twixt which regions
There is some space.

ANTONIO
A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, “How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake.” Say, this were death
That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse
Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate
As amply and unnecessarily
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?

SEBASTIAN
Methinks I do.

ANTONIO
And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?

SEBASTIAN
I remember
You did supplant your brother Prospero.

ANTONIO
True:
And look how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before: my brother’s servants
Were then my fellows; now they are my men.

SEBASTIAN
But for your conscience.

ANTONIO
Ay, sir; where lies that? if ’twere a kibe,
’Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not
This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
That stand ’twixt me and Milan, candied be they,
And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon,
If he were that which now he’s like, that’s dead;
Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They’ll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;
They’ll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.

SEBASTIAN
Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent; as thou got’st Milan,
I’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;
And I the king shall love thee.

ANTONIO
Draw together;
And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.

SEBASTIAN
O, but one word.

They talk apart.

Re-enter Ariel invisible.

ARIEL
My master through his art foresees the danger
That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth, —
For else his project dies, — to keep them living.

Sings in Gonzalo’s ear.

While you here do snoring lie,
Open-eyed conspiracy
His time doth take.
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake, awake!

ANTONIO
Then let us both be sudden.

GONZALO
Now, good angels
Preserve the king.

They wake.

ALONSO
Why, how now? ho, awake! — Why are you drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking?

GONZALO
What’s the matter?

SEBASTIAN
Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions: did’t not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.

ALONSO
I heard nothing.

ANTONIO
O, ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear,
To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar
Of a whole herd of lions.

ALONSO
Heard you this, Gonzalo?

GONZALO
Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open’d,
I saw their weapons drawn: — there was a noise,
That’s verily. ’Tis best we stand upon our guard,
Or that we quit this place: let’s draw our weapons.

ALONSO
Lead off this ground; and let’s make further search
For my poor son.

GONZALO
Heavens keep him from these beasts!
For he is, sure, i’ th’ island.

ALONSO
Lead away.

ARIEL
Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.

Exeunt

Scene II. Another Part of the Island

Enter Caliban with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard.

CALIBAN
All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin — shows, pitch me i’ the mire,
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid ’em: but
For every trifle are they set upon me;
Sometime like apes, that mow and chatter at me,
And after bite me; then like hedgehogs which
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount
Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I
All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness.

Enter Trinculo.

Lo, now, lo!
Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly. I’ll fall flat;
Perchance he will not mind me.

TRINCULO
Here’s neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and
another storm brewing; I hear it sing i’ the wind: yond same black
cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his
liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide
my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What
have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a
fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of not of the newest
Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and
had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a
piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange
beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a
lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a
man! and his fins like arms! Warm o’ my troth! I do now let loose my
opinion; hold it no longer: this is no fish, but an islander, that hath
lately suffered by a thunderbolt. [Thunder.] Alas, the storm is come
again! my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other
shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I
will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.

Enter Stephano, singing: a bottle in his hand.

STEPHANO
I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die a-shore, —

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral: well, here’s my
comfort.

Drinks.

Sings.
The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
The gunner, and his mate,
Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
But none of us cared for Kate;
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!
She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch;
Yet a tailor might scratch her where’er she did itch.
Then, to sea, boys, and let her go hang!

This is a scurvy tune too: but here’s my comfort.

Drinks.

CALIBAN
Do not torment me: — O!

STEPHANO
What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon
’s with savages and men of Ind, ha? I have not scaped drowning, to
be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a
man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground; and it
shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at’s nostrils.

CALIBAN
The spirit torments me: — O!

STEPHANO
This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who hath got, as I
take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will
give him some relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him, and
keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he’s a present for any
emperor that ever trod on neat’s-leather.

CALIBAN
Do not torment me, prithee; I’ll bring my wood home faster.

STEPHANO
He’s in his fit now, and does not talk after the wisest. He shall
taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near
to remove his fit. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not
take too much for him; he shall pay for him that hath him, and that
soundly.

CALIBAN
Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy
trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.

STEPHANO
Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that which will
give language to you, cat: open your mouth; this will shake your
shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who’s your
friend: open your chaps again.

TRINCULO
I should know that voice: it should be — but he is drowned; and
these are devils: — O defend me!

STEPHANO
Four legs and two voices, — a most delicate monster! His forward
voice, now, is to speak well of his friend; his backward voice is to
utter foul speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will
recover him, I will help his ague. Come: — Amen! I will pour some in
thy other mouth.

TRINCULO
Stephano!

STEPHANO
Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is a devil, and
no monster: I will leave him; I have no long spoon.

TRINCULO
Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me;
for I am Trinculo, — be not afeard, — thy good friend Trinculo.

STEPHANO
If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I’ll pull thee by the lesser
legs: if any be Trinculo’s legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo
indeed! How earnest thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? can he
vent Trinculos?

TRINCULO
I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke. But art thou not
drowned, Stephano? I hope, now, thou art not drowned. Is the storm
overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf’s gaberdine for fear
of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two
Neapolitans scaped!

STEPHANO
Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.

CALIBAN
[aside] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites.
That’s a brave god, and bears celestial liquor:
I will kneel to him.

STEPHANO
How didst thou ’scape? How camest thou hither? swear, by this
bottle, how thou camest hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack, which
the sailors heaved o’erboard, by this bottle! which I made of the bark
of a tree with mine own hands, since I was cast ashore.

CALIBAN
I’ll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy true subject; for the liquor
is not earthly.

STEPHANO
Here; swear, then, how thou escapedst.

TRINCULO
Swum ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim like a duck, I’ll be
sworn.

STEPHANO
Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou
art made like a goose.

TRINCULO
O Stephano, hast any more of this?

STEPHANO
The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the sea-side,
where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! how does thine ague?

CALIBAN
Hast thou not dropp’d from heaven?

STEPHANO
Out o’ the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i’ the moon
when time was.

CALIBAN
I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee: My mistress show’d
me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush.

STEPHANO
Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish it anon with
new contents: swear.

TRINCULO
By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! I afeard of
him! A very weak monster! The man i’ the moon! A most poor
credulous monster! Well drawn, monster, in good sooth!

CALIBAN
I’ll show thee every fertile inch o’ th’ island;
And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god.

TRINCULO
By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster! when’s
god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle.

CALIBAN
I’ll kiss thy foot; I’ll swear myself thy subject.

STEPHANO
Come on, then; down, and swear.

TRINCULO
I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster.
A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him, —

STEPHANO
Come, kiss.

TRINCULO
But that the poor monster’s in drink: an abominable monster!

CALIBAN
I’ll show thee the best springs; I’ll pluck thee berries;
I’ll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
I’ll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wondrous man.

TRINCULO
A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor
drunkard!

CALIBAN
I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;
Show thee a jay’s nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmoset; I’ll bring thee
To clustering filberts, and sometimes I’ll get thee
Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

STEPHANO
I prithee now, lead the way, without any more talking. Trinculo,
the king and all our company else being drowned, we will inherit
here: here; bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we’ll fill him by and by
again.

CALIBAN
[Sings drunkenly.] Farewell, master; farewell, farewell!

TRINCULO
A howling monster; a drunken monster!

CALIBAN
No more dams I’ll make for fish;
Nor fetch in firing
At requiring;
Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish:
‘Ban, ‘Ban, Cacaliban
Has a new master: — get a new man.

Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-day, freedom!

STEPHANO
O brave monster! Lead the way.

Exeunt

Act III

Scene I. Before Prospero’s Cell

Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log.

FERDINAND
There be some sports are painful, and their labour
Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters
Point to rich ends. This my mean task
Would be as heavy to me as odious, but
The mistress which I serve quickens what’s dead,
And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is
Ten times more gentle than her father’s crabbed.
And he’s composed of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,
Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness
Had never like executor. I forget:
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,
Most busy lest, when I do it.

Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a distance, unseen.

MIRANDA
Alas, now, pray you,
Work not so hard: I would the lightning had
Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin’d to pile!
Pray, set it down, and rest you: when this burns,
’Twill weep for having wearied you. My father
Is hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself;
He’s safe for these three hours.

FERDINAND
O most dear mistress,
The sun will set before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.

MIRANDA
If you’ll sit down,
I’ll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that;
I’ll carry it to the pile.

FERDINAND
No, precious creature;
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.

MIRANDA
It would become me
As well as it does you: and I should do it
With much more ease; for my good will is to it,
And yours it is against.

PROSPERO
Poor worm, thou art infected!
This visitation shows it.

MIRANDA
You look wearily.

FERDINAND
No, noble mistress; ’tis fresh morning with me
When you are by at night. I do beseech you, —
Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers, —
What is your name?

MIRANDA
Miranda. — O my father,
I have broke your hest to say so!

FERDINAND
Admired Miranda!
Indeed the top of admiration! worth
What’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have eyed with best regard, and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues
Have I liked several women; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed,
And put it to the foil: but you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature’s best!

MIRANDA
I do not know
One of my sex; no woman’s face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen
More that I may call men than you, good friend,
And my dear father: how features are abroad,
I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you;
Nor can imagination form a shape,
Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle
Something too wildly, and my father’s precepts
I therein do forget.

FERDINAND
I am, in my condition,
A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;
I would, not so! — and would no more endure
This wooden slavery than to suffer
The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak:
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service; there resides,
To make me slave to it; and for your sake
Am I this patient log-man.

MIRANDA
Do you love me?

FERDINAND
O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound,
And crown what I profess with kind event,
If I speak true! if hollowly, invert
What best is boded me to mischief! I,
Beyond all limit of what else i’ the world,
Do love, prize, honour you.