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 :

[Burden, ding-dong.

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

Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd faThis is no mortal buisness, nor no sound [ther :That the earth owes :-I hear it now above me. Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say, what thou seest yond'. Mira. What is 't? a spirit ? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form :-But 't is a spirit. [senses Pro. No, wench; it eats, and sleeps, and hath such As we have, such: This gallant, which thou seest, Was in the wrack; and but he's something stain'd With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou might'st A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, [call him And strays about to find them.

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

My language! heavens !I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 't is spoken.

How! the best?

Pro. What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee? Fer. 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 wrack'd.

Alack, for mercy!

Mira. Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of And his brave son, being twain. [Milan, Pro. The duke of Milan, And his more braver daughter, could control thee, If now 't were fit to do 't :-At the first sight [Aside. They have chang'd eyes :-Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this !-A word, good sir; I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word. Mira. 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 inclin'd my way! Fer. Ó, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples.

Pro.

Soft, sir; one word more.— They are both in either's powers; but this swift

business

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Aside.
Make the prize light.-One word more; I charge
That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp [thee
The name thou ow'st not; and hast put thyself
Upon this island, as a spy, to win it
From me, the lord on 't

Fer.
No, as I am a man.
Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a
If the ill spirit have so fair house, [temple :
Good things will strive to dwell with 't.

Pro.

Follow me.

[To Ferd.
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. Fer. No;

I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy has more power.

[He draws, and is charmed from moving.
Mira.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful. Pro. What, I say,
My foot my tutor! Put thy sword up, traitor; [science
Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy con-
Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward;
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.

Mira.

Beseech you, father!
Pro. Hence; hang not on my garments.
Mira.
Sir, have pity;
I'll be his surety. Pro. Silence! one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an impostor! hush!

Thou think'st there are 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.

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

Pro.

Come on; obey: [To Ferd. Thy nerves are in their infancy again, And have no vigour in them. Fer. So they are :

Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or, as 't were perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.

Seb. With an eye of green in 't.

Ant. He misses not much.

Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is indeed almost beyond credit)—

Seb. As many vouched rarities are.

Gon. 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.

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

Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.

Gon. 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.

Seb. 'T was a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

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

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time.

Ant. Widow? a pox o' that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido!

Seb. What if he had said, widower Æneas too? good lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that She was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.. Adr. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too. Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?

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

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

Gon. Ay?

Ant. Why, in good time.

Gon. 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.

Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido. Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?
Alon. 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 remov'd,

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!

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. Alon. No, no, he's gone.
Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,
That would not bless our Europe with your daugh-
But rather lose her to an African;
[ter,
Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.
Alon.
Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd other-
By all of us; and the fair soul herself [wise
Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at
Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost
I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have [your son,
More widows in them of this business' making,
Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault's
Your own.
Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.

Prithee, peace.

Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. Seb. Foul weather?

Ant.

Very foul. Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,— Ant. He'd sow 't with nettle-seed. Seb. Or docks, or mallows. Gon. And were the king of it, What would I do? Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine. Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would I admit ; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known: riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none : No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil: No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too; but innocent and pure : No sovereignty

Seb. Yet he would be king on 't. Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.

Gon. All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foizon, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects? Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age.

Seb.

Ant. Long live Gonzalo ! Gon.

'Save his majesty !

And, do you mark me, sir?———— Alon. Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing

to me.

Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.

Ant. 'T was you we laugh'd at.

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

Ant. What a blow was there given !

Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.

Gon. Your are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.

Enter Ariel invisible, playing solemn music. 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 adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

[All sleep but Alon., Seb., and Ant. Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I They are inclin❜d to do so.. [find

Seb.

Please you, sir,

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,

Will guard your person while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
Alon

Thank you : wondrous heavy.
[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel.
Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Ant. It is the quality of the climate. Seb. Why
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.
Ant..
Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian ?--O, what might ?—No more :-
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face, [and
What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee;
My strong imagination sees a crown.
Dropping upon thy head.
Seb.

What, art thou waking? Ant. Do you not hear me speak? Seb..

I do; and, surely, It is a sleepy language; and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep: What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep.

Ant. Noble Sebastian, Thou lett'st thy fortune sleep, die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking.

Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores.

Ant. I am more serious than my custom : you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o'er.

Be rough and razorable; she that from whom
We were all 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.
Seb.

What stuff is this?-How say you?
'T is true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis:
So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions
There is some space.
Ant.
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 seiz'd them; why, they were no

You did supplant your brother Prospero. Ant.

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.
Seb. But, for your conscience-

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if 't were a kybe,
'T would 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 cause. 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.

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

20

Ant.

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

Seb. O, but one word. [They converse apart. Music. Re-enter Ariel, invisible. Ari. 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!

Ant. Then let us both be sudden.
Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king!

[They awake.

Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are Wherefore this ghastly looking? [you drawn?

What's the matter?

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

Alon. I heard nothing. Ant. O, 't was a din to fright a monster's ear; To make an earthquake! sure it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions. Alon.

Heard you this, Gonzalo ? Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me: I shak'd you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn :-there was a noise, That's verity: 'Tis best we stand upon our guard; Or that we quit this place : let's draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make For my poor son.

[further search

Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! Alon. Lead away. For he is, sure, i' the island. Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done : [Aside. [Exeunt.

So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.

SCENE II.-Another part of the Island.
Enter Caliban, with a burthen of wood.
A noise of thunder heard.

Cal. 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 them; but
For every trifle are they set upon me :
Sometimes like apes, that moe 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 :-Lo! now! lo!
Enter Trinculo.

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.

Trin. Here's neither brush 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 bumbard 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 thunder-bolt. [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 bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.

Enter Stephano, singing; a bottle in his hand.
Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die ashore ;-

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral :
Well, here's my comfort.
[Drinks.
The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
The gunner, and his mate,

Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
But none of us car'd for Kate:

For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, 'Go hang :'
She lov'd 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.

Cal. Do not torment me: O! Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages and men of Inde? 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 nostrils.

Cal. The spirit torments me: O!

Ste. 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.

Cal. Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood home faster.

Ste. 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.

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

Ste. 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.