Mira. [Waking.\ The strangeness of your story put

Heaviness in me.

Pro. Shake it off. Come on;

We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.

Mira. 'Tis a villain, sir,

1 do not love to look on.

Pro. 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 I Caliban 1
Thou earth, thou! speak.
Cal. [IVUhin.] There's wood enough within.
Pro. Come forth, I say; there's other business for
Come, thou tortoise! when? fthee:

Re-enter Ariel, like a water-nymph.
Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
Hark in thine ear.
Art. My lord, it shall be done. [Exit.

Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Enter Caliban.

Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen. Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye. And blister you all o'er! [cramps. Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shall have Si ;Ie-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work. All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pincli'd As thick as honey-comb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made them.

Cal. I must eat my dinner.

This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother.
Which thou tak'st from ine. When thou earnest first,
Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st
Water with berries in't; and teach mc how (give me
To name the bigger light, and how the less.
That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee.
And show'd thee all the qualities o'th'isle.
The fresh springs, brine-ptts, barren place, and fer-
Cursed be I that did so!—All the charms [tile:

Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you I
For I am all the subjects that you have.
Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest o' th' island.

Pro. Thou most lying slave, fthee.

Whom stripes may move, not kindness: I have us'd
Filth as thou art. with human care; and lodg'd thee
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
The honour of my child.

Cal. O ho, O ho!—would it had been done!

Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.

Pro. • Abhorred slave,

Which any print of goodness will not take,
Being capable of allilM I pitied thee, [hour
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each
One thing or other: when thou didst not. savage.
Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known: hut thy vile race.
Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good na-
Couldnot abide to be with ; therefore wast thou [tures
Deservedly confin'd into this rock,
Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison.

Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse: the red plague nd you. For learning me your language!

Pro. Hag-seed, hence I

Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou wert best,
To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice t
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.
Cal. No, pray thee I—

iAside.] I must obey: his art is of such power,
t would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.
Pro. So, slave ; hence 1 [Exit Caliban.

Re-enter Ariel invisible, playing and singing;
Ferdinand following him.
ARIEL'S SONG.
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:

Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,

(The wild waves whis'.]
Foot itfeatly here and th-jre;
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

Hark, hark!
Burden. Bowgh, wowph. [Dispersedly.

The watch-dogs bark;
Burden. Bowgh. wowgh. \Dispersedly.

Hark, hark .' I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer.
Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo.
Fer. Where should this music be T i' th' air, or th'
It sounds no more ;—and sure, it waits upon [earth!
Some god o' th' 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 ine rather:—but 'lib gone.
No, it begins again.

Ariel sings.
Fullfathom 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 hts knell:
Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong, bell.

[JJurden : ding-dong,
Fer. 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.

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

Mira. What is t T a spirit f

Lord, how it looks about! Believe mc, sir.
It carries a brave form:—but 'tis a spirit. [senses
Pro. No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath such
As we have, such; this gallant, which thou sce'st.
Was in the wreck; and, l>ut he's something stain'd
With grief, that's heauty's canker, thou tnight'st call
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, [hiin
And strays about to find them.

Mira. I might call him

A thing divine ; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

Pro. I Aside.] It goes on. I see.

As my soul prompts it.—Spirit, fine spirit! IH free thee Within two days for this.

Fer. 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 I—
If you be maid, or not

Mira. No wonder, sir;

But certainly a maid.

Fer. My language! heavens 1—

I am the best of them that speak this speech.
Were I but where 'tis spoken.

Pro. How! the best?

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, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The king, my father, wreck'd.

Mira. Alack, for mercy!

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

Pro. [Aside.) The duke of Milan,

And his more braver daughter, could control thee.
If now 'twere fit to do't.—At the first sight [Aside.
They have chang'd eyes:—delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this!—[ To Fer.] 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 sighed for: pity move my father
To l>e inclin'd my way 1

Fer. O! if a virgin.

And your affection not gone forth, 111 make you
The queen of Naples.

Pro. Soft, sir: one word more

ls side.] They are both in eithers powers; but this swift b- ~

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

Make the prize light.—[To Fer.J One word more:!

charge thee,
That thou attend me. Thou dost here usurp
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 temple
If the ill spirit have so fair a house.
Good things will strive to dwell with't.

Pro. (1o Fer.J Follow me.—| To Mira.] Speak not you for him; he's a traitor.—[To Fer. I'll manacle thy neck and feet together: [Come Sea-water shaft thou drink ; thy food bhall be The fresh-brook muscles, withered roots, and husks Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

Fer, No;

I wiH resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy has more power. {He draws,

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;
Whomak'stashow, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience
Is Mi possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward.
For 1 can here disarm thee with this stick.
And make thy weapon drop.
Mira. Beseech you, father!

Pro. Hence 1 hang not on my garments.
Mira. Sir, have pity

111 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.
Having1 seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench I
To the most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him arc angels.

Mira. My affections

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

Pro. \ To FerA Come on; obey:

Thy nerves are in their infancy again.
And have no vigour in them.

Fer. 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, or this man's t hreats,
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* th' earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

Pro. [Aside.] It works.—[7V Fer.] Come on.— Thou hast done well, fine Ariel \-~\To Fer.] Follow [To Ariel.] Hark, what thou else shaft do me. [me.—

Mira. Be of comfort;

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

Pro. Thou shalt be as free

As mountain winds; but then, exactly do
All points of my command.

Ari. To the syllable.

Pro. [To Fer.] Come, follow.—Speak not for him.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. Another Part oftke Island. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco*, and others.

Gon. 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.

A.'on. Pr'ythee, peace.

Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.

Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.

Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by
Gon. Sir,— [and by it will strike.

Seb. One:—tell.

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's offer'd. Comes to the entertainer— Seb. A dollar.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken
truer than you purposed.
Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you
Gon. Therefore, my lord,— [should.
Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
A ton. I pr'ythee, spare.
Oon. Well, 1 have done: but yet—
Seb. He will be talking. [first begins to crow?

Ant. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager,
Seb. The old cock.
Ant. The cockrel.
Seb, Done. Thewagert
Ant. A laughter.
Seb. A match.

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,—
Ant. Ha, ha, hal
Seb. So you're paid.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,
Seb. Yet—
Adr. Yet—

Ant. He could not miss it. [licate temperance.
Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and de-
Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench, [livered.
Seb. Ay. and a subtle; as he most learnedly de-
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb. As ifit had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is everything advantageous to lift.
Ant. True; save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none, or little. [green I

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass loot.si how 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 a' beyond credit,)— Seb. As many vouch'd 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 stain'd with salt water. [not say. He lies?

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it 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. Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. [paragon to their queen.

Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. Ant. Widow? a pox o'that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido 1

Seb, What if he had said, widower ^Eneas 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 worn is more than the miraculous harp. 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

Who is so far from Italy remov'd,
I ne'er again shall sou her. (J thou, mine he!
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?

Fran. 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.

A ion. No, no; he's gone.

Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss. That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an African; Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye, . Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.

A ion. Pr'ythee, peace.

Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise By all of us, and the fair soul herself Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost your I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have (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. - Gon. My lord Sebastian,

The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in; you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.

Seb. Very well

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.

Goit. 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-sced.

Seb. Or docks, or mallows.

Gon. And were the king on't, what would I do t

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 foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'inong his subjects?

Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.

Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir. To excel the golden age.

Seb. 'Save his majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo I

Gon. And,—do you mark me, sir?

Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to mc.

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

Ant. 'Twos you we laugh d at. J at nothing.

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

Ant. What a blow was there given I [stilt

Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.

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

Fnter Ariel, invisible, playing solemn music.

Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.

Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

Con, No, I warrant you; Iwillnotadventuremydis-,

eretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. jam very neavyl

[All steep but Alon., Seb., and Ant.

Alon. What, all so soon asleep ! 1 wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclin'd to do so.

Seb. Please you, sir.

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

Ant. We two. my lord.

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

Alon. Thank you. Wondrous heavy.

f Alonso sleeps. Exit AneL

Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

Ant. It is the quafity o' the climate.

Seb. Why Doth it not, then, our eye-lids sink? I find not Myself dispos'd to sleep.

Ant. Nor I: my spirits are nimble.

They fell together alt, as by consent;
They dropp'd as by a thunder-stroke. What might.
Worthy Sebastian r O! what might?—No more :—
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face.
What thou snould'st be. Th' occasion speaks thee; and
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 ; an

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 let'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.

Seb. Well; I am standing water.

Ant. Ill teach you how to flow.

Seb. Do so: to ebb.

Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Ant. 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.

Seb. Pr'ythee, say on:

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

Ant. Thus, sir:

Although this lord of weak remembrance, this
Who shall be of as little memory.
When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuaded
(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,
As he that sleeps here, swims.

Seb. 1 have no hope

That he's undrown'd.

Ant. O, out of that no hope.

What great hope have you! no hope, that way, ti
Another way so high a nope, that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond.
But doubts discovery there. Will you grant with me,
That Ferdinand is drown'd?

Seb. He's gone.

Ant. Then, tell me.

Who's the next heir of Naples?

Seb. Claribel.

Ant. 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 razomble: 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.

Stt>, What stuff is this I—How say yout •Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis; So is she heu- of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is some space.

Ant. A space whose every cubit

Eceius to cry out. How shall that Claribel
pleasure us back to Naples 1—Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake !—Say. this were death
That now hath seU'd theui; why, they were no worse
Than now they arc. There be, that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate
As amply, and unnecessarily.
As this Gonzalo; 1 myself could make
A chough of as deep chat. O, that yon bore
The mind that I do! wliata sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?

Seb. Methinks, I do.

Ant. And how does yonr content

Te*der your own good fortune T

Seb. I remember,

Tbu did supplant your brother Prospero.

Ani. True:

And took how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater thau before; niy brother s servants
Were then my fellows; now they are my men.
Seb. But. for your conscience,—
Ant. Ay. sir; where lies that ( if it were a kibe,
Twould put nie to iny slipper; but I feel not
This deity hi my bosom: twenty consciences.
That st.nut 'iwixt me and Milan, candied be they.
And melt, ere they molest 1 Here lies your brother.
No better than the earth he lies upon.
If he were that winch 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 raiglM put
This ancient morset, 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 clocic w> any business that
Wc say befits the hour.
Seb. Thy case, dear friend

;ot'st Milan, word: one stroke i thou payst. And I the king shall love trier.

A nt. Draw together.

And when I rear my hand, do you the like.
To fall it on Gonzalo.
Seb. 0, but one word, f They converse apart.

Music. He-enter iiriel. 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 thee living.

JSings in Gonzalos ear.
a snoring lie.
Open-ey'd conspiracy

His time doth take
1/ of life you keep a care.
Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake! AwakeI
Ant. Then let us both be sudden.
Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king!

[ They -wake.

A ton. Why. how now! ho, awake 1 Why are you Wherefore this ghastly looking? (drawn?

Gon. What's the matter?

Seb. 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!

struck mine ear most terribly.

A Ion. I heard nothing.

A nt. 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.

A ion. Heard you this, <k>nzalo?

Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, 1 heard a humming. And that a strange one too. which did awake me. I shak'd you, sir. and cry'd ; as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn:—there was a noise. That's verily. 'Tis best we stand u)x>n our guard. Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.

A Ion. Lead off this ground, and let's make farther For iny \ mor son. [search

Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts!

For he is, sure, i" the island.

Aloft. Lead away. {Exit -with the others,

A ri Prospero, my lord, shall know what I hare done: So, king, go safely on to seek, thy son. \JExU,

SCENE II. Another Part*f the Island.

Enter Caliban, -with a burden of wood. A noise of Thunder heard. Col. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, hats, on Prosper fall, and make hiss By inch-meal a disease S His spirits hear me. And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch. Fright me with urchin shows, pitch ine i' the mire. Nor lead rae, like a fire-brand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em ; but For every trine are they set upon me; Sometime like apes, that moe and chatter at n And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, \' Lie tumbling m my bare-foot way, and mount Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I All wound with adders, who with do* Do hiss me into madness.—

Enter Triitculo.

Lol now! lol ..ere comes a spirit of his. and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly: I'll fall aat; Perchance, he will not mind me. .

Tritt. 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 bumbard that would shed has 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 paittuls.—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 sec a dead Indian. Legg'd like a man l and his fins like arms! Warm, o' my troth I 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. [TJutuder.) Alas I 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, tit! the dregs of the storm be past.

Enter Stephano. singing; a bottle in his h
Ste. / shall no wore to sea, to sea.

Here shall I die a-shore:—
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a r
WclL here's iny comfort. \ Drinks.

The master, the sivabber, the boatswain, and I,

The gttnner, and hts mate,
Lov'd Mail, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,

But none of uscar'dfor Kate;

For she had a tongue with s tang,

Would cry to a sailor, Go hang I Sh£ Ififd not the savour of tar nor ofpitch. 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: 01

Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you pnt tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not scaped drowning, to-beafeared now of your four legs; for it hath been said. As, proper a man as evef-went on four legs cannot make him give ground : and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes ats nostrils,

Cat. Tile spirit torments me: OI

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'sleather, [home faster.

Cal. Donottormentme, pr'ythee: I'll bring my wood

Ste. He's in his fit nc*w. and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of.niif bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore, it will ghou*»r to remove his fit. Iff. can recover him, and k«Mi£&?„n tame, I will not take too much for hiin; j*f, shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly*

Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, 1 know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon

Sfe, Come on your ways: open year mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat; open your mouth: this will shake your shaking, 1 can tell you, and that soundly : you cannot tell who's your friend; open your chaps again.

Trtn. I should know that voice: h should l>e—but he is drowned, and these are devils. O! defend me!

Ste. 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

Trin. Stephanol (some in thy other mouth.

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

Trin. Stepnano.—if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo:—be not afeard,—thy good friend Trinculo.

Ste. If thou heest Trinculo. comeforth. IHpuIIthee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trincnlo, indeed 1 How cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? Can he vent Trine ulos?

Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke. But art thou not drowned, Stephano? 1 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 I [not constant.

Ste. Pr ythee, do not turn me about: my stomach is Cat. [Aside.) These be fine things, an if they be not

That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor: ] will kneel to him.

Ste. How didst thou 'scape? How cam'st thou hither? swear by this bottle, how thou cam'st hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved over-board, by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast ashore.

Cal. IH swear, upon that bottle, to be thy true Subject; for the liquor is not earthly.

Ste. Here: swear, then, how thou escapeVlst.

Trin. Swam ashore, man, like a duck: I can swfan like a duck. 111 be sworn.

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

Trin. O Stephanol hast any more of this?

Ste. The whole butt, man : my cellar is in a rock by the seaside, where my wine is hid. How now, mooncalf! how does thine ague?

Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven?

ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man in the moon, when time was.

Cal. I have seen thee in her. and I do adore thee; my mistress showed me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush.

Ste. Come, swear to that; kissthe book ; I will furnish It anon with new contents; swear.

Trin. By this good light, this is a very shallow monster.—I afeard of him ?—a very wtatt monster.— The man i'themoon? a mostpoor credulous monster! —Well drawn, monster, in good sooth.

Cat. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' the island; And I will kiss thy foot. I pr'ythee. be my god.

Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster: when his god's asleep, hell rob his bottle.

Cal. Ill kiss thy foot: 111 swear myself thy subject.

Ste. Come on then: down, and swear.

Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppyheaded monster. A most scuny monster I I could find in my heart to beat him,— Ste. Come, kiss.

Trin. —But that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable monster I

Cal. I'll shew thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee 111 fish for thee, and get thee wood enough, [berries; A ptague upon the tyrant that I serve! I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee. Thou wondrous man. "«

Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkarr£n Q'£

■ Cal. I pr'ythee, let thee where crabs grow;

And I with my long nails will 4& thee pig-nuts;
Show thee a jay's-nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmozct; 111 bring thee
To clust'ring filberts, and sometimes 111 get thee
Young scaroels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me ?,

Ste. I prVtheenow. lead the way. without any more

talking.—Trinculo. the king and all our company else l>eing drowned, we will inherit here.—Here; bear my bottle.—Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill htm by and by again. Cal. farewell, master ; farewell, farewell.

[Sings dmnkenly. Trin. A howling monster, a drunken monster. Cal. No more dams I'll make for fish; Nor fetch in firing At requiring, Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish f 'Ban, 'Ban, Ca—Caliban, Mas a new master—Get a new man. Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom 1 freedom! heyday, freedom I Ste. O brave monster! lead the way. [Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.—Before Prospero's Celt. Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log. Fer. There be some sports are painful, and their labour

Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness

Are nohly 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 1 serve, quickens what's dead.

And makes my labours pleasures: O I 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. 1 forget:

But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours;

Most busy lest, when I do it.

Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a dista nee.

Mira. Alas! now, pray you.

Work not so hard: I would the lightnine had
Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'n to pile!
Pray, set it down, and re*t you: when this h
Twill weep for having wearied you. My fa
Is hard at study ; pray now, rest yourself:
He's safe for these three hours.

Fer. O most dear n

The sun will set, before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.

Mira. If you'll sit down.

Ill bear your logs the while. Pray, give me that;
III carry it to the pile.

Fer. No, precious creature:

I had rather crack my sinews, break my back.
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.,

Mira. 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.

Pro. [Aside. | Poor worm I thou art Infected;

This visitation shows it.

Mira. You look wearily.

Fer. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me. When you are by at night. 1 do beseech you.— Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers,— What is your name?

Mira. Miranda.—O my father!

I have broke your hest to say so.

Fer. Admir'd Miranda!

Indeed, the top of admiration; worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have ey'd with best regard : and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent car: for several virtues
Have 1 lik'd several women ; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd,
And put it to the foil: but you, O youI
So perfect, and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best.

Mira. 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 skill-less of; but, by my modesty.
The jewel in my dower.) I would not wish