Prosperothe former duke of Milan, now a magician on
a Mediterranean island [male]
MirandaProspero’s daughter [female]
Ariela spirit, servant to Prospero [male]
Calibanan inhabitant of the island, servant to Prospero [male]
Ferdinandprince of Naples [male]
Alonsoking of Naples [male]
Antonioduke of Milan and Prospero’s brother [male]
SebastianAlonso’s brother [male]
Gonzalocouncillor to Alonso and friend to Prospero [male]
Courtiers in attendance on Alonso
Trinculoservant to Alonso [male]
StephanoAlonso’s butler [male]
Players who, as spirits, take the roles of Iris, Ceres,
Juno, Nymphs, and Reapers in Prospero’s masque, and who,
in other scenes, take the roles of “islanders” and of
From the Director
It is hard to imagine a world without Shakespeare. Since their composition four hundred
years ago, Shakespeare’s plays and poems have traveled the globe, inviting those who
see and read his works to make them their own.
Readers of the New Folger Editions are part of this ongoing process of “taking up
Shakespeare,” finding our own thoughts and feelings in language that strikes us as
old or unusual and, for that very reason, new. We still struggle to keep up with a
writer who could think a mile a minute, whose words paint pictures that shift like
clouds. These expertly edited texts are presented to the public as a resource for
study, artistic adaptation, and enjoyment. By making the classic texts of the New
Folger Editions available in electronic form as Folger Digital Texts, we place a trusted
resource in the hands of anyone who wants them.
The New Folger Editions of Shakespeare’s plays, which are the basis for the texts
realized here in digital form, are special because of their origin. The Folger Shakespeare
Library in Washington, DC, is the single greatest documentary source of Shakespeare’s
works. An unparalleled collection of early modern books, manuscripts, and artwork
connected to Shakespeare, the Folger’s holdings have been consulted extensively in
the preparation of these texts. The Editions also reflect the expertise gained through
the regular performance of Shakespeare’s works in the Folger’s Elizabethan Theater.
I want to express my deep thanks to editors Barbara Mowat and Paul Werstine for creating
these indispensable editions of Shakespeare’s works, which incorporate the best of
textual scholarship with a richness of commentary that is both inspired and engaging.
Readers who want to know more about Shakespeare and his plays can follow the paths
these distinguished scholars have tread by visiting the Folger either in-person or
online, where a range of physical and digital resources exists to supplement the material
in these texts. I commend to you these words, and hope that they inspire.
Director, Folger Shakespeare Library
Until now, with the release of the Folger Digital Texts, readers in search of a free
online text of Shakespeare’s plays had to be content primarily with using the Moby™
Text, which reproduces a late-nineteenth century version of the plays. What is the
difference? Many ordinary readers assume that there is a single text for the plays:
what Shakespeare wrote. But Shakespeare’s plays were not published the way modern
novels or plays are published today: as a single, authoritative text. In some cases,
the plays have come down to us in multiple published versions, represented by various
Quartos (Qq) and by the great collection put together by his colleagues in 1623, called
the First Folio (F). There are, for example, three very different versions of Hamlet, two of King Lear, Henry V, Romeo and Juliet, and others. Editors choose which version to use as their base text, and then amend
that text with words, lines or speech prefixes from the other versions that, in their
judgment, make for a better or more accurate text.
Other editorial decisions involve choices about whether an unfamiliar word could be
understood in light of other writings of the period or whether it should be changed;
decisions about words that made it into Shakespeare’s text by accident through four
hundred years of printings and misprinting; and even decisions based on cultural preference
and taste. When the Moby™ Text was created, for example, it was deemed “improper”
and “indecent” for Miranda to chastise Caliban for having attempted to rape her. (See
The Tempest, 1.2: “Abhorred slave,/Which any print of goodness wilt not take,/Being capable of
all ill! I pitied thee…”). All Shakespeare editors at the time took the speech away
from her and gave it to her father, Prospero.
The editors of the Moby™ Shakespeare produced their text long before scholars fully
understood the proper grounds on which to make the thousands of decisions that Shakespeare
editors face. The Folger Library Shakespeare Editions, on which the Folger Digital
Texts depend, make this editorial process as nearly transparent as is possible, in
contrast to older texts, like the Moby™, which hide editorial interventions. The reader
of the Folger Shakespeare knows where the text has been altered because editorial
interventions are signaled by square brackets (for example, from Othello: “square bracketIf she in chains of magic were not bound,square bracket”), half-square brackets (for example, from Henry V: “With half-square bracketbloodhalf-square bracket and sword and fire to win your right,”), or angle brackets (for example, from Hamlet: “O farewell, honest angle bracketsoldier.angle bracket Who hath relieved/you?”). At any point in the text, you can hover your cursor over
a bracket for more information.
Because the Folger Digital Texts are edited in accord with twenty-first century knowledge
about Shakespeare’s texts, the Folger here provides them to readers, scholars, teachers,
actors, directors, and students, free of charge, confident of their quality as texts
of the plays and pleased to be able to make this contribution to the study and enjoyment
A story of shipwreck and magic, The Tempest begins on a ship caught in a violent storm with Alonso, the king of Naples, on board.
On a nearby island, the exiled Duke of Milan, Prospero, tells his daughter, Miranda,
that he has caused the storm with his magical powers. Prospero had been banished twelve
years earlier when Prospero’s brother, Antonio—also on the doomed ship—conspired with
Alonso to become the duke instead. Prospero and Miranda are served by a spirit named
Ariel and by Caliban, son of the island’s previous inhabitant, the witch Sycorax.
On the island, castaways from the wreck begin to appear. First is Alonso’s son Ferdinand,
who immediately falls in love with Miranda. Prospero secretly approves of their love,
but tests the pair by enslaving Ferdinand. After secretly watching Miranda and Ferdinand
exchange vows, Prospero releases Ferdinand and consents to their marriage.
Other castaways who appear are Trinculo and Stephano, Alonso’s jester and butler,
who join forces with Caliban to kill Prospero and take over the island. The nobles
from the ship search for Ferdinand and are confronted with a spectacle including a
Harpy, who convinces Alonso that Ferdinand’s death is retribution for Prospero’s exile.
Having all his enemies under his control, Prospero decides to forgive them. Alonso,
joyously reunited with his son, restores Prospero to the dukedom of Milan and welcomes
Miranda as Ferdinand’s wife. As all except Caliban and Ariel prepare to leave the
island, Prospero, who has given up his magic, bids farewell to the island and the
sig: 7ACT 1
A tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard.
Enter a Shipmaster and a Boatswain.
Here, master. What cheer?
Good, speak to th’ mariners. Fall to ’t yarely,
or we run ourselves aground. Bestir, bestir!
Heigh, my hearts! Cheerly, cheerly, my
hearts! Yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to th’
Master’s whistle.—Blow till thou burst thy wind, if
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, Gonzalo,
Good boatswain, have care. Where’s the Master?
Play the men.
I pray now, keep below.
Where is the Master, boatswain?
Do you not hear him? You mar our labor.
Keep your cabins. You do assist the storm.
Nay, good, be patient.
When the sea is. Hence! What cares these
ACT 1. SC. 1roarers for the name of king? To cabin! Silence!
Trouble us not.
Good, yet remember whom thou hast
None that I more love than myself. You are
a councillor; if you can command these elements
to silence, and work the peace of the present, we
will not hand a rope more. Use your authority. If
you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and
make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance
of the hour, if it so hap.—Cheerly, good
hearts!—Out of our way, I say!
I have great comfort from this fellow. Methinks
he hath no drowning mark upon him. His
complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good
Fate, to his hanging. Make the rope of his destiny
our cable, for our own doth little advantage. If he be
not born to be hanged, our case is miserable.
He exits with Alonso, Sebastian,
and the other courtiers.
Down with the topmast! Yare! Lower, lower!
Bring her to try wi’ th’ main course.
A plague upon this howling! They are
louder than the weather or our office.
Enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo.
Yet again? What do you here? Shall we give o’er and
drown? Have you a mind to sink?
A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,
Work you, then.
Hang, cur, hang, you whoreson, insolent
noisemaker! We are less afraid to be drowned than
ACT 1. SC. 1GONZALO
I’ll warrant him for drowning, though the
ship were no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky
as an unstanched wench.
Lay her ahold, ahold! Set her two courses.
Off to sea again! Lay her off!
Enter more Mariners, wet.
All lost! To prayers, to prayers! All lost!
What, must our mouths be cold?
The King and Prince at prayers. Let’s assist
them, for our case is as theirs.
I am out of patience.
We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards.
This wide-chopped rascal—would thou
mightst lie drowning the washing of ten tides!
He’ll be hanged yet, though every drop of
water swear against it and gape at wid’st to glut him.
A confused noise within:
Mercy on us!
We split, we
Farewell, my wife and children!
We split, we split, we
Let’s all sink wi’ th’ King.
Let’s take leave of him.
He exits with Antonio.
Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea
for an acre of barren ground: long heath, brown
furze, anything. The wills above be done, but I
would fain die a dry death.
ACT 1. SC. 2Scene 2
Enter Prospero and 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 th’ welkin’s cheek,
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,
Dashed all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perished.
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 swallowed, and
The fraughting souls within her.
No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart
There’s no harm done.
O, woe the day!
I have done nothing but in care of thee,
Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who
Art ignorant of what thou art, naught knowing
Of whence I am, nor that I am more better
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
And thy no greater father.
More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.
I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand
And pluck my magic garment from me.
Putting aside his cloak.
Lie there, my art.—Wipe thou thine eyes. Have
ACT 1. SC. 2The direful spectacle of the wrack, which touched
The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely ordered that there is no soul—
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
For thou must now know farther.
You have often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopped
And left me to a bootless inquisition,
Stay. Not yet.
The hour’s now come.
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear.
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.
Certainly, sir, I can.
By what? By any other house or person?
Of anything the image tell me that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.
’Tis far off
And rather like a dream than an assurance
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
Four or five women once that tended me?
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?
If thou rememb’rest aught ere thou cam’st here,
How thou cam’st here thou mayst.
But that I do not.
ACT 1. SC. 2PROSPERO
Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
Thy father was the Duke of Milan and
A prince of power.
Sir, are not you my father?
Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
She said thou wast my daughter. And thy father
Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir
And princess no worse issued.
O, the heavens!
What foul play had we that we came from thence?
Or blessèd was ’t we did?
Both, both, my girl.
By foul play, as thou sayst, were we heaved thence,
But blessedly holp hither.
O, my heart bleeds
To think o’ th’ teen that I have turned you to,
Which is from my remembrance. Please you,
My brother and thy uncle, called 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
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
And to my state grew stranger, being transported
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle—
Dost thou attend me?
Sir, most heedfully.
ACT 1. SC. 2PROSPERO
Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them, who t’ advance, and who
To trash for overtopping, new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed ’em,
Or else new formed ’em, having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts i’ th’ state
To what tune pleased his ear, that now he was
The ivy which had hid my princely trunk
And sucked my verdure out on ’t. Thou attend’st not.
O, good sir, I do.
I pray thee, mark me.
I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To closeness and the bettering of my mind
With that which, but by being so retired,
O’erprized all popular rate, in my false brother
Awaked an evil nature, and my trust,
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
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’ th’ substitution
And executing th’ outward face of royalty
With all prerogative. Hence, his ambition growing—
Dost thou hear?
Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
To have no screen between this part he played
And him he played it for, he needs will be
ACT 1. SC. 2Absolute 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’ th’ King of Naples
To give him annual tribute, do him homage,
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend
The dukedom, yet unbowed—alas, poor Milan!—
To most ignoble stooping.
O, the heavens!
Mark his condition and th’ event. Then tell me
If this might be a brother.
I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother.
Good wombs have borne bad sons.
Now the condition.
This King of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit,
Which was that he, in lieu o’ th’ premises
Of homage and I know not how much tribute,
Should presently extirpate me and mine
Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan,
With all the honors, on my brother; whereon,
A treacherous army levied, one midnight
Fated to th’ purpose did Antonio open
The gates of Milan, and i’ th’ dead of darkness
The ministers for th’ purpose hurried thence
Me and thy crying self.
Alack, for pity!
I, not rememb’ring how I cried out then,
Will cry it o’er again. It is a hint
That wrings mine eyes to ’t.
Hear a little further,
And then I’ll bring thee to the present business
Which now ’s upon ’s, without the which this story
Were most impertinent.
ACT 1. SC. 2MIRANDA
Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?
Well demanded, wench.
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,
So dear the love my people bore me, nor set
A mark so bloody on the business, but
With colors fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,
Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared
A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigged,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us
To cry to th’ sea that roared to us, to sigh
To th’ winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.
Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you!
O, a cherubin
Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile,
Infusèd with a fortitude from heaven,
When I have decked the sea with drops full salt,
Under my burden groaned, which raised in me
An undergoing stomach to bear up
Against what should ensue.
How came we ashore?
By providence divine.
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity, who being then appointed
Master of this design, did give us, with
Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,
Which since have steaded much. So, of his
Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me
From mine own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.
ACT 1. SC. 2MIRANDA
Would I might
But ever see that man.
Now I arise.
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this island we arrived, and here
Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princes can, that have more time
For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.
Heavens thank you for ’t. And now I pray you, sir—
For still ’tis beating in my mind—your reason
For raising this sea storm?
Know thus far forth:
By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
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.
Thou art inclined to sleep. ’Tis a good dullness,
And give it way. I know thou canst not choose.
Miranda falls asleep.
Prospero puts on his cloak.
Come away, servant, come. I am ready now.
Approach, my Ariel. Come.
All hail, great master! Grave sir, hail! I come
To answer thy best pleasure. Be ’t to fly,
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curled clouds, to thy strong bidding task
Ariel and all his quality.
Hast thou, spirit,
Performed to point the tempest that I bade thee?
ACT 1. SC. 2ARIEL
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. Sometimes I’d divide
And burn in many places. On the topmast,
The yards, and bowsprit would I flame distinctly,
Then meet and join. Jove’s lightning, the precursors
O’ th’ dreadful thunderclaps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not. The fire and cracks
Of sulfurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,
Yea, his dread trident shake.
My brave spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
Would not infect his reason?
Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and played
Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners
Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,
Then all afire with me. The King’s son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring—then like reeds, not hair—
Was the first man that leaped; cried
Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.
Why, that’s my spirit!
But was not this nigh shore?
Close by, my master.
But are they, Ariel, safe?
Not a hair perished.
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before; and, as thou bad’st 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,
His arms in this sad knot.
He folds his arms.
ACT 1. SC. 2PROSPERO
Of the King’s ship,
The mariners say how thou hast disposed,
And all the rest o’ th’ fleet.
Safely in harbor
Is the King’s ship. In the deep nook, where once
Thou called’st me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vexed Bermoothes, there she’s hid;
The mariners all under hatches stowed,
Who, with a charm joined to their suffered labor,
I have left asleep. And for the rest o’ th’ fleet,
Which I dispersed, they all have met again
And are upon the Mediterranean float,
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the King’s ship wracked
And his great person perish.
Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is performed. But there’s more work.
What is the time o’ th’ day?
Past the mid season.
At least two glasses. The time ’twixt six and now
Must by us both be spent most preciously.
Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,
Which is not yet performed me.
How now? Moody?
What is ’t thou canst demand?
Before the time be out? No more.
Remember I have done thee worthy service,
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, served
Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou did promise
To bate me a full year.
ACT 1. SC. 2PROSPERO
Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?
Thou dost, and think’st it much to tread the ooze
Of the salt deep,
To run upon the sharp wind of the North
To do me business in the veins o’ th’ Earth
When it is baked with frost.
I do not, sir.
Thou liest, malignant thing. Hast thou forgot
The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy
Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her?
Thou hast. Where was she born? Speak. Tell me.
Sir, in Argier.
O, was she so? I must
Once in a month recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forget’st. This damned witch Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know’st, was banished. For one thing she did
They would not take her life. Is not this true?
This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child
And here was left by th’ sailors. Thou, my slave,
As thou report’st thyself, was then her servant,
And for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorred commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers
And in her most unmitigable rage,
ACT 1. SC. 2Into a cloven pine, within which rift
Imprisoned 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
(Save for the son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp, hag-born) not honored with
A human shape.
Yes, Caliban, her son.
Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban
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 damned, which Sycorax
Could not again undo. It was mine art,
When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape
The pine and let thee out.
I thank thee, master.
If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oak
And peg thee in his knotty entrails till
Thou hast howled away twelve winters.
I will be correspondent to command
And do my spriting gently.
Do so, and after two days
I will discharge thee.
That’s my noble master.
What shall I do? Say, what? What shall I do?
Go make thyself like a nymph o’ th’ sea. Be subject
To no sight but thine and mine, invisible
To every eyeball else. Go, take this shape,
ACT 1. SC. 2And hither come in ’t. Go, hence with diligence!
Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well.
The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.
Shake it off. Come on,
We’ll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.
’Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.
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!
Thou earth, thou, speak!
There’s wood enough within.
Come forth, I say. There’s other business for thee.
Come, thou tortoise. When?
Enter Ariel like a water nymph.
Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
Hark in thine ear.
He whispers to Ariel.
My lord, it shall be done.
, to Caliban
Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself
Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!
As wicked dew as e’er my mother brushed
With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen
Drop on you both. A southwest blow on you
And blister you all o’er.
ACT 1. SC. 2PROSPERO
For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps,
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. Urchins
Shall forth at vast of night that they may work
All exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinched
As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made ’em.
I must eat my dinner.
This island’s mine by Sycorax, my mother,
Which thou tak’st from me. When thou cam’st first,
Thou strok’st me and made much of me, wouldst
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,
And showed thee all the qualities o’ th’ isle,
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and
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,
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.
Thou most lying slave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness, I have used
Filth as thou art, with humane care, and lodged
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
The honor of my child.
O ho, O ho! Would ’t had been done!
Thou didst prevent me. I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.
ACT 1. SC. 2MIRANDA
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
One thing or other.When thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes
With words that made them known. But thy vile
Though thou didst learn, had that in ’t which good
Could not abide to be with. Therefore wast thou
Deservedly confined into this rock,
Who hadst deserved more than a prison.
You taught me language, and my profit on ’t
Is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you
For learning me your language!
Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou ’rt best,
To answer other business. Shrugg’st thou, malice?
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.
No, pray thee.
I must obey. His art is of such power
It would control my dam’s god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.
So, slave, hence.
Enter Ferdinand; and Ariel, invisible,
playing and singing
ACT 1. SC. 2Song.
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands.
Curtsied when you have, and kissed
The wild waves whist.
Foot it featly here and there,
And sweet sprites bear
The burden. Hark, hark!
Burden dispersedly, within:
The watchdogs bark.
Burden dispersedly, within:
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Where should this music be? I’ th’ air, or th’ earth?
It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon
Some god o’ th’ island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the King my father’s wrack,
This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion
With its sweet air. Thence I have followed it,
Or it hath drawn me rather. But ’tis gone.
No, it begins again.
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.
Hark, now I hear them: ding dong bell.
ACT 1. SC. 2FERDINAND
The ditty does remember my drowned father.
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the Earth
earth owes. I hear it now above me.
, to Miranda
The fringèd curtains of thine eye advance
And say what thou seest yond.
What is ’t? A spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form. But ’tis a spirit.
No, wench, it eats and sleeps and hath such senses
As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest
Was in the wrack; and, but he’s something stained
With grief—that’s beauty’s canker—thou might’st
A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows
And strays about to find ’em.
I might call him
A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.
It goes on, I see,
As my soul prompts it.
Spirit, fine spirit,
I’ll free thee
Within two days for this.
, seeing Miranda
Most sure, the goddess
On whom these airs attend!—Vouchsafe my prayer
May know if you remain upon this island,
And that you will some good instruction give
How I may bear me here. My prime request,
Which I do last pronounce, is—O you wonder!—
If you be maid or no.
No wonder, sir,
But certainly a maid.
My language! Heavens!
ACT 1. SC. 2I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where ’tis spoken.
How? The best?
What wert thou if the King of Naples heard thee?
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 wracked.
Alack, for mercy!
Yes, faith, and all his lords, the Duke of Milan
And his brave son being twain.
The Duke of Milan
And his more braver daughter could control thee,
If now ’twere fit to do ’t. At the first sight
They have changed eyes.—Delicate Ariel,
I’ll set thee free for this.
I fear you have done yourself some wrong. A word.
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 be inclined my way.
O, if a virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, I’ll make you
The Queen of Naples.
Soft, sir, one word more.
They are both in either’s powers. But this
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
Make the prize light.
more. I charge thee
That thou attend me. Thou dost here usurp
ACT 1. SC. 2The name thou ow’st not, and hast put thyself
Upon this island as a spy, to win it
From me, the lord on ’t.
No, as I am a man!
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.
, to Ferdinand
Speak not you for him. He’s a traitor.
I’ll manacle thy neck and feet together.
Sea water shalt thou drink. Thy food shall be
The fresh-brook mussels, withered roots, and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.
I will resist such entertainment till
Mine enemy has more power.
He draws, and is charmed from moving.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He’s gentle and not fearful.
What, I say,
My foot my tutor?—Put thy sword up, traitor,
Who mak’st a show, but dar’st not strike, thy
Is so possessed with guilt. Come from thy ward,
For I can here disarm thee with this stick
And make thy weapon drop.
Beseech you, father—
Hence! Hang not on my garments.
Sir, have pity.
I’ll be his surety.
Silence! One word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What,
ACT 1. SC. 2An advocate for an impostor? Hush.
Thou think’st there is no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban. Foolish wench,
To th’ most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels.
Are then most humble. I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.
, to Ferdinand
Come on, obey.
Thy nerves are in their infancy again
And have no vigor in them.
So they are.
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father’s loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wrack of all my friends, nor this man’s threats
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid. All corners else o’ th’ Earth
Let liberty make use of. Space enough
Have I in such a prison.
It works.—Come on.—
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel.—Follow me.
Hark what thou else shalt do me.
, to Ferdinand
My father’s of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech. This is unwonted
Which now came from him.
, to Ariel
Thou shalt be as free
As mountain winds; but then exactly do
All points of my command.
To th’ syllable.
, to Ferdinand
Speak not for him.
sig: 53ACT 2
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,
Francisco, and others.
, to Alonso
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.
, aside to Antonio
He receives comfort like
The visitor will not give him o’er so.
Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit.
By and by it will strike.
, to Alonso
When every grief is entertained that’s offered,
comes to th’ entertainer—
Dolor comes to him indeed. You have spoken
truer than you purposed.
ACT 2. SC. 1SEBASTIAN
You have taken it wiselier than I meant you
, to Alonso
Therefore, my lord—
Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue.
, to Gonzalo
I prithee, spare.
Well, I have done. But yet—
, aside to Antonio
He will be talking.
, aside to Sebastian
Which, of he or Adrian,
for a good wager, first begins to crow?
The old cock.
Done. The wager?
Though this island seem to be desert—
Ha, ha, ha.
So. You’re paid.
Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible—
He could not miss ’t.
It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate
Temperance was a delicate wench.
Ay, and a subtle, as he most learnedly
The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Or as ’twere perfumed by a fen.
Here is everything advantageous to life.
True, save means to live.
Of that there’s none, or little.
How lush and lusty the grass looks! How
The ground indeed is tawny.
With an eye of green in ’t.
ACT 2. SC. 1ANTONIO
He misses not much.
No, he doth but mistake the truth totally.
But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost
As many vouched rarities are.
That our garments, being, as they were,
drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their
freshness and gloss, being rather new-dyed than
stained with salt water.
If but one of his pockets could speak, would
it not say he lies?
Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.
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
’Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper
well in our return.
Tunis was never graced before with such a
paragon to their queen.
Not since widow Dido’s time.
Widow? A pox o’ that! How came that
in? Widow Dido!
What if he had said
Good Lord, how you take it!
, to Gonzalo
said you? You
make me study of that. She was of Carthage, not of
This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.
I assure you, Carthage.
His word is more than the miraculous harp.
He hath raised the wall, and houses too.
What impossible matter will he make easy
ACT 2. SC. 1SEBASTIAN
I think he will carry this island home in his
pocket and give it his son for an apple.
And sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring
forth more islands.
Why, in good time.
, to Alonso
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
And the rarest that e’er came there.
Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
O, widow Dido? Ay, widow Dido.
, to Alonso
Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as
the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.
was well fished for.
, to Alonso
When I wore it at your daughter’s
You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
Married my daughter there, for coming thence
My son is lost, and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy removed
I ne’er again shall see her.—O, thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?
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 swoll’n that met him. His bold head
’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To th’ shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bowed,
ACT 2. SC. 1As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt
He came alive to land.
No, no, he’s gone.
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 banished from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on ’t.
You were kneeled to and importuned otherwise
By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weighed between loathness and obedience at
Which end o’ th’ beam should bow. We have lost
I fear, forever. Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business’ making
Than we bring men to comfort them.
The fault’s your own.
So is the dear’st o’ th’ loss.
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.
And most chirurgeonly.
, to Alonso
It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.
Had I plantation of this isle, my lord—
He’d sow ’t with nettle seed.
ACT 2. SC. 1SEBASTIAN
Or docks, or mallows.
And were the king
King on ’t, what would I do?
Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
I’ th’ 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;
Yet he would be king on ’t.
The latter end of his commonwealth forgets
All things in common nature should produce
Without sweat or endeavor; 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.
No marrying ’mong his subjects?
None, man, all idle: whores and knaves.
I would with such perfection govern, sir,
T’ excel the Golden Age.
’Save his Majesty!
Long live Gonzalo!
And do you mark me, sir?
Prithee, no more. Thou dost talk nothing to me.
ACT 2. SC. 1GONZALO
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.
’Twas you we laughed at.
Who in this kind of merry fooling am
nothing to you. So you may continue, and laugh at
What a blow was there given!
An it had not fallen flatlong.
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.
Enter Ariel invisible,
playing solemn music
We would so, and then go a-batfowling.
, to Gonzalo
Nay, good my lord, be not angry.
No, I warrant you, I will not adventure my
discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep?
For I am very heavy.
Go sleep, and hear us.
All sink down asleep except Alonso,
Antonio, and Sebastian.
What, all so soon asleep? I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts. I find
They are inclined to do so.
Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it.
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.
We two, my lord,
Will guard your person while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
Thank you. Wondrous heavy.
ACT 2. SC. 1SEBASTIAN
What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
It is the quality o’ th’ climate.
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find
Not myself disposed to sleep.
Nor I. My spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent.
They dropped as by a thunderstroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian, O, what might—? No more.
And yet methinks I see it in thy face
What thou shouldst be. Th’ occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
What, art thou waking?
Do you not hear me speak?
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.
Thou let’st thy fortune sleep, die rather, wink’st
Whiles thou art waking.
Thou dost snore distinctly.
There’s meaning in thy snores.
I am more serious than my custom. You
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do
Trebles thee o’er.
Well, I am standing water.
I’ll teach you how to flow.
ACT 2. SC. 1SEBASTIAN
Do so. To ebb
Hereditary sloth instructs me.
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.
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.
Although this lord of weak remembrance—this,
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earthed—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 undrowned
As he that sleeps here swims.
I have no hope
That he’s undrowned.
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 drowned?
Then tell me,
Who’s the next heir of Naples?
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—
ACT 2. SC. 1The man i’ th’ moon’s too slow—till newborn chins
Be rough and razorable; she that from whom
We all were sea-swallowed, 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.
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.
A space whose ev’ry 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?
Methinks I do.
And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?
You did supplant your brother Prospero.
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.
But, for your conscience?
Ay, sir, where lies that? If ’twere a kibe,
’Twould put me to my slipper, but I feel not
ACT 2. SC. 1This 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 forever; 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.
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.
And when I rear my hand, do you the like
To fall it on Gonzalo.
They draw their swords.
O, but one word.
They talk apart.
Enter Ariel, invisible,
with music and song
, to the sleeping Gonzalo
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,
His time doth take.
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber and beware.
ACT 2. SC. 1ANTONIO
, to Sebastian
Then let us both be sudden.
Now, good angels preserve the
He wakes Alonso.
, to Sebastian
Why, how now, ho! Awake? Why are you drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking?
, to Sebastian
What’s the matter?
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.
I heard nothing.
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.
Heard you this, Gonzalo?
Upon mine honor, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me.
I shaked you, sir, and cried. As mine eyes opened,
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.
Lead off this ground, and let’s make further search
For my poor son.
Heavens keep him from these beasts,
For he is, sure, i’ th’ island.
Prospero my lord shall know what I have done.
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.
ACT 2. SC. 2Scene 2
Enter Caliban with a burden of wood.
A noise of
All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him
By inchmeal 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’ th’ 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,
Sometimes 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. 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.
He lies down and covers himself with a cloak.
Here’s neither bush nor shrub to bear off
any weather at all. And another storm brewing; I
hear it sing i’ th’ 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 fishlike smell, a kind of not-of-the-newest poor-John.
A strange fish. Were I in England now, as once
ACT 2. SC. 2I 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.
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.
He crawls under Caliban’s cloak.
Enter Stephano singing.
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.
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
She loved not the savor 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.
Do not torment me! O!
ACT 2. SC. 2STEPHANO
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
and it shall be said so again while
Stephano breathes at’ nostrils.
The spirit torments me. O!
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
Do not torment me, prithee. I’ll bring my
wood home faster.
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.
Thou dost me yet but little hurt. Thou wilt
anon; I know it by thy trembling. Now Prosper
works upon thee.
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.
cannot tell who’s your friend. Open your chaps
I should know that voice. It should be—but
he is drowned, and these are devils. O, defend me!
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
ACT 2. SC. 2speeches 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
Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy,
this is a devil, and no monster! I will leave him; I
have no long spoon.
Stephano! If thou be’st Stephano, touch me
and speak to me, for I am Trinculo—be not
afeard—thy good friend Trinculo.
If thou be’st Trinculo, come forth. I’ll pull
thee by the lesser legs. If any be Trinculo’s legs,
these are they.
He pulls him out from under Caliban’s
Thou art very Trinculo indeed. How
cam’st thou to be the siege of this mooncalf? Can
he vent Trinculos?
I took him to be killed with a thunderstroke.
But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I
hope now thou art not drowned. Is the storm
overblown? I hid me under the dead mooncalf’s
gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living,
Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans scaped!
Prithee, do not turn me about. My stomach
is not constant.
These be fine things, an if they be not
sprites. That’s a brave god and bears celestial liquor.
I will kneel to him.
He crawls out from under the cloak.
, to Trinculo
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 o’erboard—by this bottle, which
I made of the bark of a tree with mine own hands,
since I was cast ashore.
ACT 2. SC. 2CALIBAN
I’ll swear upon that bottle to be thy true
subject, for the liquor is not earthly.
, to Trinculo
Here. Swear then how thou
Swum ashore, man, like a duck. I can swim
like a duck, I’ll be sworn.
Here, kiss the book.
Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made
like a goose.
O Stephano, hast any more of this?
The whole butt, man. My cellar is in a rock
by th’ seaside, where my wine is hid.—How now,
mooncalf, how does thine ague?
Hast thou not dropped from heaven?
Out o’ th’ moon, I do assure thee. I was the
man i’ th’ moon when time was.
I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee.
My mistress showed me thee, and thy dog, and thy
Come, swear to that. Kiss the book. I will
furnish it anon with new contents. Swear.
By this good light, this is a very shallow
monster. I afeard of him? A very weak monster. The
man i’ th’ moon? A most poor, credulous monster!
—Well drawn, monster, in good sooth!
I’ll show thee every fertile inch o’ th’ island,
and I will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god.
By this light, a most perfidious and drunken
monster. When ’s god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle.
I’ll kiss thy foot. I’ll swear myself thy subject.
Come on, then. Down, and swear.
I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed
monster. A most scurvy monster. I could
find in my heart to beat him—
ACT 2. SC. 2STEPHANO
But that the poor monster’s in drink. An
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.
A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder
of a poor drunkard.
I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow,
And I with my long nails will dig thee pignuts,
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?
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.
Farewell, master, farewell, farewell.
A howling monster, a drunken monster.
No more dams I’ll make for fish,
Nor fetch in firing
Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish.
’Ban, ’ban, Ca-caliban
Has a new master. Get a new man.
Freedom, high-day! High-day, freedom! Freedom,
O brave monster! Lead the way.
sig: 91ACT 3
Enter Ferdinand bearing a log.
There be some sports are painful, and their labor
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 labors 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
Had never like executor. I forget;
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labors,
Most busiest when I do it.
Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a distance, unobserved.
Alas now, pray you,
Work not so hard. I would the lightning had
Burnt up those logs that you are enjoined to pile.
Pray, set it down and rest you. When this burns
ACT 3. SC. 1’Twill weep for having wearied you. My father
Is hard at study. Pray now, rest yourself.
He’s safe for these three hours.
O most dear mistress,
The sun will set before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.
If you’ll sit down,
I’ll bear your logs the while. Pray, give me that.
I’ll carry it to the pile.
No, precious creature,
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonor undergo
While I sit lazy by.
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.
Poor worm, thou art infected.
This visitation shows it.
You look wearily.
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.—O my father,
I have broke your hest to say so!
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
Th’ 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,
ACT 3. SC. 1And put it to the foil. But you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature’s best.
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.
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.
Do you love me?
O heaven, O Earth
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’ th’ world,
Do love, prize, honor you.
I am a fool
To weep at what I am glad of.
ACT 3. SC. 1Of two most rare affections. Heavens rain grace
On that which breeds between ’em!
At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer
What I desire to give, and much less take
What I shall die to want. But this is trifling,
And all the more it seeks to hide itself,
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning,
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence.
I am your wife if you will marry me.
If not, I’ll die your maid. To be your fellow
You may deny me, but I’ll be your servant
Whether you will or no.
My mistress, dearest, and I thus humble ever.
My husband, then?
Ay, with a heart as willing
As bondage e’er of freedom. Here’s my hand.
, clasping his hand
And mine, with my heart in ’t. And now farewell
Till half an hour hence.
A thousand thousand.
So glad of this as they I cannot be,
Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing
At nothing can be more. I’ll to my book,
For yet ere suppertime must I perform
Much business appertaining.
ACT 3. SC. 2Scene 2
Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo.
, to Trinculo
Tell not me. When the butt is
out, we will drink water; not a drop before. Therefore
bear up and board ’em.—Servant monster,
drink to me.
Servant monster? The folly of this island!
They say there’s but five upon this isle; we are three
of them. If th’ other two be brained like us, the state
Drink, servant monster, when I bid thee.
Thy eyes are almost set in thy head.
Where should they be set else? He were a
brave monster indeed if they were set in his tail.
My man-monster hath drowned his tongue
in sack. For my part, the sea cannot drown me. I
swam, ere I could recover the shore, five-and-thirty
leagues off and on, by this light.—Thou shalt be my
lieutenant, monster, or my standard.
Your lieutenant, if you list. He’s no
We’ll not run, Monsieur Monster.
Nor go neither. But you’ll lie like dogs, and
yet say nothing neither.
Mooncalf, speak once in thy life, if thou
be’st a good mooncalf.
How does thy Honor? Let me lick thy shoe. I’ll
not serve him; he is not valiant.
Thou liest, most ignorant monster. I am in
case to justle a constable. Why, thou debauched
fish, thou! Was there ever man a coward that hath
drunk so much sack as I today? Wilt thou tell a
monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a
ACT 3. SC. 2CALIBAN
Lo, how he mocks me! Wilt thou let him, my
quoth he? That a monster should be
such a natural!
Lo, lo again! Bite him to death, I prithee.
Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head.
If you prove a mutineer, the next tree. The poor
monster’s my subject, and he shall not suffer
I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased
to harken once again to the suit I made to thee?
Marry, will I. Kneel and repeat it. I will
stand, and so shall Trinculo.
Enter Ariel, invisible.
As I told thee before, I am subject
to a tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath
cheated me of the island.
, in Trinculo’s voice
, to Trinculo
Thou liest, thou jesting monkey,
I would my valiant master would
destroy thee. I do not lie.
Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in ’s
tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your
Why, I said nothing.
Mum then, and no more.
I say by sorcery he got this isle;
From me he got it. If thy Greatness will,
Revenge it on him, for I know thou dar’st,
But this thing dare not.
That’s most certain.
Thou shalt be lord of it, and I’ll serve thee.
ACT 3. SC. 2STEPHANO
How now shall this be compassed? Canst
thou bring me to the party?
Yea, yea, my lord. I’ll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.
, in Trinculo’s voice
Thou liest. Thou canst not.
What a pied ninny’s this!—Thou scurvy patch!—
I do beseech thy Greatness, give him blows
And take his bottle from him. When that’s gone,
He shall drink naught but brine, for I’ll not show him
Where the quick freshes are.
Trinculo, run into no further danger. Interrupt
the monster one word further, and by this
hand, I’ll turn my mercy out o’ doors and make a
stockfish of thee.
Why, what did I? I did nothing. I’ll go
Didst thou not say he lied?
, in Trinculo’s voice
Do I so? Take thou that.
He beats Trinculo.
As you like this, give me the lie another time.
I did not give the lie! Out o’ your wits and
hearing too? A pox o’ your bottle! This can sack and
drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the
devil take your fingers!
Ha, ha, ha!
Now forward with your tale.
Prithee, stand further off.
Beat him enough. After a little time
I’ll beat him too.
Trinculo moves farther
Why, as I told thee, ’tis a custom with him
ACT 3. SC. 2I’ th’ afternoon to sleep. There thou mayst brain him,
Having first seized his books, or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his weasand with thy knife. Remember
First to possess his books, for without them
He’s but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command. They all do hate him
As rootedly as I. Burn but his books.
He has brave utensils—for so he calls them—
Which, when he has a house, he’ll deck withal.
And that most deeply to consider is
The beauty of his daughter. He himself
Calls her a nonpareil. I never saw a woman
But only Sycorax my dam and she;
But she as far surpasseth Sycorax
As great’st does least.
Is it so brave a lass?
Ay, lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant,
And bring thee forth brave brood.
Monster, I will kill this man. His daughter
and I will be king and queen—save our Graces!—
and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys.—Dost
thou like the plot, Trinculo?
Give me thy hand. I am sorry I beat thee.
But while thou liv’st, keep a good tongue in thy
Within this half hour will he be asleep.
Wilt thou destroy him then?
Ay, on mine honor.
This will I tell my master.
Thou mak’st me merry. I am full of pleasure.
ACT 3. SC. 2Let us be jocund. Will you troll the catch
You taught me but whilere?
At thy request, monster, I will do reason,
any reason.—Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.
Flout ’em and cout ’em
And scout ’em and flout ’em!
Thought is free.
That’s not the tune.
Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe.
What is this same?
This is the tune of our catch played by the
picture of Nobody.
, to the invisible musician
If thou be’st a
man, show thyself in thy likeness. If thou be’st a
devil, take ’t as thou list.
O, forgive me my sins!
He that dies pays all debts.—I defy thee!—
Mercy upon us!
Art thou afeard?
No, monster, not I.
Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked
I cried to dream again.
This will prove a brave kingdom to me,
where I shall have my music for nothing.
When Prospero is destroyed.
That shall be by and by. I remember the
ACT 3. SC. 3TRINCULO
The sound is going away. Let’s follow it, and
after do our work.
Lead, monster. We’ll follow.—I would I
could see this taborer. He lays it on. Wilt come?
I’ll follow, Stephano.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,
By ’r lakin, I can go no further, sir.
My old bones aches. Here’s a maze trod indeed
Through forthrights and meanders. By your
I needs must rest me.
Old lord, I cannot blame thee.
Who am myself attached with weariness
To th’ dulling of my spirits. Sit down and rest.
Even here I will put off my hope and keep it
No longer for my flatterer. He is drowned
Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.
, aside to Sebastian
I am right glad that he’s so out of hope.
Do not, for one repulse, forgo the purpose
That you resolved t’ effect.
, aside to Antonio
The next advantage
Will we take throughly.
, aside to Sebastian
Let it be tonight;
For now they are oppressed with travel, they
Will not nor cannot use such vigilance
As when they are fresh.
, aside to Antonio
I say tonight. No more.
ACT 3. SC. 3Solemn and strange music
, and enter Prospero on the
What harmony is this? My good friends, hark.
Marvelous sweet music!
Enter several strange shapes, bringing in a banquet, and
dance about it with gentle actions of salutations.
Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?
A living drollery! Now I will believe
That there are unicorns, that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phoenix’ throne, one phoenix
At this hour reigning there.
I’ll believe both;
And what does else want credit, come to me
And I’ll be sworn ’tis true. Travelers ne’er did lie,
Though fools at home condemn ’em.
If in Naples
I should report this now, would they believe me?
If I should say I saw such islanders—
For, certes, these are people of the island—
Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet note
Their manners are more gentle, kind, than of
Our human generation you shall find
Many, nay, almost any.
Thou hast said well, for some of you there present
Are worse than devils.
I cannot too much muse
Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound,
Although they want the use of tongue—a kind
Of excellent dumb discourse.
ACT 3. SC. 3PROSPERO
Praise in departing.
Inviting the King, etc., to eat, the shapes depart.
They vanished strangely.
No matter, since
They have left their viands behind, for we have
Will ’t please you taste of what is here?
Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,
Who would believe that there were mountaineers
Dewlapped like bulls, whose throats had hanging at
Wallets of flesh? Or that there were such men
Whose heads stood in their breasts? Which now we
Each putter-out of five for one will bring us
Good warrant of.
I will stand to and feed.
Although my last, no matter, since I feel
The best is past. Brother, my lord the Duke,
Stand to, and do as we.
Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio
move toward the table.
and lightning. Enter Ariel, like a Harpy, claps
his wings upon the table,
with a quaint device the
You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,
That hath to instrument this lower world
And what is in ’t, the never-surfeited sea
Hath caused to belch up you, and on this island,
Where man doth not inhabit, you ’mongst men
Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad;
And even with such-like valor, men hang and drown
ACT 3. SC. 3Their proper selves.
Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio draw their swords.
You fools, I and my fellows
Are ministers of Fate. The elements
Of whom your swords are tempered may as well
Wound the loud winds or with bemocked-at stabs
Kill the still-closing waters as diminish
One dowl that’s in my plume. My fellow ministers
Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,
Your swords are now too massy for your strengths
And will not be uplifted. But remember—
For that’s my business to you—that you three
From Milan did supplant good Prospero,
Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it,
Him and his innocent child, for which foul deed,
The powers—delaying, not forgetting—have
Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures
Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,
They have bereft; and do pronounce by me
Ling’ring perdition, worse than any death
Can be at once, shall step by step attend
You and your ways, whose wraths to guard you
Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls
Upon your heads—is nothing but heart’s sorrow
And a clear life ensuing.
to soft music
, enter the shapes again, and dance,
with mocks and mows, and carrying out the table.
Bravely the figure of this Harpy hast thou
Performed, my Ariel. A grace it had, devouring.
Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated
In what thou hadst to say. So, with good life
And observation strange, my meaner ministers
ACT 3. SC. 3Their several kinds have done. My high charms
And these mine enemies are all knit up
In their distractions. They now are in my power;
And in these fits I leave them while I visit
Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drowned,
And his and mine loved darling.
He exits, above.
, to Alonso
I’ th’ name of something holy, sir, why stand you
In this strange stare?
O, it is monstrous, monstrous!
Methought the billows spoke and told me of it;
The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ pipe, pronounced
The name of Prosper. It did bass my trespass.
Therefor my son i’ th’ ooze is bedded, and
I’ll seek him deeper than e’er plummet sounded,
And with him there lie mudded.
But one fiend at a time,
I’ll fight their legions o’er.
I’ll be thy second.
All three of them are desperate. Their great guilt,
Like poison given to work a great time after,
Now ’gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you
That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly
And hinder them from what this ecstasy
May now provoke them to.
Follow, I pray you.
They all exit.
sig: 121ACT 4
Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.
, to Ferdinand
If I have too austerely punished you,
Your compensation makes amends, for I
Have given you here a third of mine own life,
Or that for which I live; who once again
I tender to thy hand. All thy vexations
Were but my trials of thy love, and thou
Hast strangely stood the test. Here afore heaven
I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,
Do not smile at me that I boast of her,
For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise
And make it halt behind her.
I do believe it
Against an oracle.
Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition
Worthily purchased, take my daughter. But
If thou dost break her virgin-knot before
All sanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy rite be ministered,
No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall
To make this contract grow; but barren hate,
Sour-eyed disdain, and discord shall bestrew
ACT 4. SC. 1The union of your bed with weeds so loathly
That you shall hate it both. Therefore take heed,
As Hymen’s lamps shall light you.
As I hope
For quiet days, fair issue, and long life,
With such love as ’tis now, the murkiest den,
The most opportune place, the strong’st suggestion
Our worser genius can shall never melt
Mine honor into lust to take away
The edge of that day’s celebration
When I shall think or Phoebus’ steeds are foundered
Or night kept chained below.
Sit then and talk with her. She is thine own.
Ferdinand and Miranda move aside.
What, Ariel, my industrious servant, Ariel!
What would my potent master? Here I am.
Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service
Did worthily perform, and I must use you
In such another trick. Go bring the rabble,
O’er whom I give thee power, here to this place.
Incite them to quick motion, for I must
Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple
Some vanity of mine art. It is my promise,
And they expect it from me.
Ay, with a twink.
Before you can say
And breathe twice, and cry
Each one, tripping on his toe,
Will be here with mop and mow.
Do you love me, master? No?
ACT 4. SC. 1PROSPERO
Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach
Till thou dost hear me call.
Well; I conceive.
, to Ferdinand
Look thou be true; do not give dalliance
Too much the rein. The strongest oaths are straw
To th’ fire i’ th’ blood. Be more abstemious,
Or else goodnight your vow.
I warrant you, sir,
The white cold virgin snow upon my heart
Abates the ardor of my liver.
Now come, my Ariel. Bring a corollary
Rather than want a spirit. Appear, and pertly.
No tongue. All eyes. Be silent.
Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and peas;
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
And flat meads thatched with stover, them to keep;
Thy banks with pionèd and twillèd brims,
Which spongy April at thy hest betrims
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy
Whose shadow the dismissèd bachelor loves,
Being lass-lorn; thy poll-clipped vineyard,
And thy sea marge, sterile and rocky hard,
Where thou thyself dost air—the Queen o’ th’ sky,
Whose wat’ry arch and messenger am I,
Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace,
Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,
ACT 4. SC. 1To come and sport. Her peacocks fly amain.
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.
Hail, many-colored messenger, that ne’er
Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;
Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers
Diffusest honey drops, refreshing showers;
And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown
My bosky acres and my unshrubbed down,
Rich scarf to my proud Earth
earth. Why hath thy queen
Summoned me hither to this short-grassed green?
A contract of true love to celebrate,
And some donation freely to estate
On the blest lovers.
Tell me, heavenly bow,
If Venus or her son, as thou dost know,
Do now attend the Queen? Since they did plot
The means that dusky Dis my daughter got,
Her and her blind boy’s scandaled company
I have forsworn.
Of her society
Be not afraid. I met her deity
Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son
Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have
Some wanton charm upon this man and maid,
Whose vows are that no bed-right shall be paid
Till Hymen’s torch be lighted—but in vain.
Mars’s hot minion is returned again;
Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,
Swears he will shoot no more, but play with
And be a boy right out.
ACT 4. SC. 1Juno descends.
Highest queen of state,
comes. I know her by her gait.
How does my bounteous sister? Go with me
To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be
And honored in their issue.
Honor, riches, marriage-blessing,
, and increasing,
Hourly joys be still upon you.
Juno sings her blessings on you.
Earth’s increase, foison plenty,
Barns and garners never empty,
Vines with clust’ring bunches growing,
Plants with goodly burden bowing;
Spring come to you at the farthest
In the very end of harvest.
Scarcity and want shall shun you.
Ceres’ blessing so is on you.
This is a most majestic vision, and
Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold
To think these spirits?
Spirits, which by mine art
I have from their confines called to enact
My present fancies.
Let me live here ever.
So rare a wondered father and a wise
Makes this place paradise.
Juno and Ceres whisper,
and send Iris on employment.
Sweet now, silence.
ACT 4. SC. 1Juno and Ceres whisper seriously.
There’s something else to do. Hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marred.
You nymphs, called naiads of the windring brooks,
With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks,
Leave your crisp channels and on this green land
Answer your summons, Juno does command.
Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
A contract of true love. Be not too late.
Enter certain Nymphs.
You sunburned sicklemen, of August weary,
Come hither from the furrow and be merry.
Make holiday: your rye-straw hats put on,
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
In country footing.
Enter certain Reapers, properly habited.
They join with
the Nymphs in a graceful dance,
towards the end
whereof Prospero starts suddenly and speaks.
I had forgot that foul conspiracy
Of the beast Caliban and his confederates
Against my life. The minute of their plot
Is almost come.—Well done. Avoid. No more.
To a strange, hollow, and confused noise,
the spirits heavily vanish.
, to Miranda
This is strange. Your father’s in some passion
That works him strongly.
Never till this day
Saw I him touched with anger, so distempered.
, to Ferdinand
You do look, my son, in a moved sort,
As if you were dismayed. Be cheerful, sir.
ACT 4. SC. 1Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vexed.
Bear with my weakness. My old brain is troubled.
Be not disturbed with my infirmity.
If you be pleased, retire into my cell
And there repose. A turn or two I’ll walk
To still my beating mind.
We wish your peace.
Come with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel. Come.
Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?
We must prepare to meet with Caliban.
Ay, my commander. When I presented Ceres,
I thought to have told thee of it, but I feared
Lest I might anger thee.
Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?
I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking,
So full of valor that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces, beat the ground
ACT 4. SC. 1For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor,
At which, like unbacked colts, they pricked their
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses
As they smelt music. So I charmed their ears
That, calf-like, they my lowing followed through
Toothed briers, sharp furzes, pricking gorse, and
Which entered their frail shins. At last I left them
I’ th’ filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,
There dancing up to th’ chins, that the foul lake
O’erstunk their feet.
This was well done, my bird.
Thy shape invisible retain thou still.
The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither
For stale to catch these thieves.
I go, I go.
A devil, a born devil, on whose nature
Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;
And as with age his body uglier grows,
So his mind cankers. I will plague them all
Even to roaring.
Enter Ariel, loaden with glistering apparel, etc.
Come, hang them on this line.
Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet,
Prospero and Ariel look on.
Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole
may not hear a footfall. We now are near his cell.
Monster, your fairy, which you say is a
harmless fairy, has done little better than played the
jack with us.
ACT 4. SC. 1TRINCULO
Monster, I do smell all horse piss, at which
my nose is in great indignation.
So is mine.—Do you hear, monster. If I
should take a displeasure against you, look you—
Thou wert but a lost monster.
Good my lord, give me thy favor still.
Be patient, for the prize I’ll bring thee to
Shall hoodwink this mischance. Therefore speak
All’s hushed as midnight yet.
Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool!
There is not only disgrace and dishonor in
that, monster, but an infinite loss.
That’s more to me than my wetting. Yet this
is your harmless fairy, monster!
I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er
ears for my labor.
Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here,
This is the mouth o’ th’ cell. No noise, and enter.
Do that good mischief which may make this island
Thine own forever, and I, thy Caliban,
For aye thy foot-licker.
Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody
, seeing the apparel
O King Stephano, O
peer, O worthy Stephano, look what a wardrobe
here is for thee!
Let it alone, thou fool. It is but trash.
Oho, monster, we know what belongs to a
He puts on one of the gowns.
Put off that gown, Trinculo. By this hand,
I’ll have that gown.
ACT 4. SC. 1TRINCULO
Thy Grace shall have it.
The dropsy drown this fool! What do you mean
To dote thus on such luggage? Let ’t alone,
And do the murder first. If he awake,
From toe to crown he’ll fill our skins with pinches,
Make us strange stuff.
Be you quiet, monster.—Mistress Line, is
not this my jerkin?
He takes a jacket from the tree.
Now is the jerkin under the line.—Now, jerkin, you
are like to lose your hair and prove a bald jerkin.
Do, do. We steal by line and level, an ’t like
I thank thee for that jest. Here’s a garment
for ’t. Wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king
of this country.
Steal by line and level
is an excellent
pass of pate. There’s another garment for ’t.
Monster, come, put some lime upon your
fingers, and away with the rest.
I will have none on ’t. We shall lose our time
And all be turned to barnacles or to apes
With foreheads villainous low.
Monster, lay to your fingers. Help to bear
this away where my hogshead of wine is, or I’ll turn
you out of my kingdom. Go to, carry this.
Ay, and this.
A noise of hunters heard.
Enter divers spirits in shape of dogs and hounds,
hunting them about,
Prospero and Ariel setting them on.
Hey, Mountain, hey!
Silver! There it goes, Silver!
Fury, Fury! There, Tyrant, there! Hark, hark!
Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo are driven off.
ACT 4. SC. 1Go, charge my goblins that they grind their joints
With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews
With agèd cramps, and more pinch-spotted make
Than pard or cat o’ mountain.
Hark, they roar.
Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour
Lies at my mercy all mine enemies.
Shortly shall all my labors end, and thou
Shalt have the air at freedom. For a little
Follow and do me service.
sig: 145ACT 5
Enter Prospero in his magic robes, and Ariel.
Now does my project gather to a head.
My charms crack not, my spirits obey, and time
Goes upright with his carriage.—How’s the day?
On the sixth hour, at which time, my lord,
You said our work should cease.
I did say so
When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,
How fares the King and ’s followers?
In the same fashion as you gave in charge,
Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,
In the line grove which weather-fends your cell.
They cannot budge till your release. The King,
His brother, and yours abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly
Him that you termed, sir, the good old Lord
His tears runs down his beard like winter’s drops
From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works
ACT 5. SC. 1That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.
Dost thou think so, spirit?
Mine would, sir, were I human.
And mine shall.
Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply
Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art?
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th’
Yet with my nobler reason ’gainst my fury
Do I take part. The rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance. They being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frown further. Go, release them, Ariel.
My charms I’ll break, their senses I’ll restore,
And they shall be themselves.
I’ll fetch them, sir.
Prospero draws a large circle on the stage with his staff.
You elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves,
And you that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
When he comes back; you demi-puppets that
By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrumps, that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,
Weak masters though you be, I have bedimmed
The noontide sun, called forth the mutinous winds,
And ’twixt the green sea and the azured vault
ACT 5. SC. 1Set roaring war; to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak
With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory
Have I made shake, and by the spurs plucked up
The pine and cedar; graves at my command
Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let ’em forth
By my so potent art. But this rough magic
I here abjure, and when I have required
Some heavenly music, which even now I do,
Prospero gestures with his staff.
To work mine end upon their senses that
This airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I’ll drown my book.
Here enters Ariel before; then Alonso with a frantic
gesture, attended by Gonzalo; Sebastian and Antonio in
like manner attended by Adrian and Francisco.
enter the circle which Prospero had made, and there
which Prospero observing, speaks.
A solemn air, and the best comforter
To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains,
Now useless, boiled within thy skull. There stand,
For you are spell-stopped.—
Holy Gonzalo, honorable man,
Mine eyes, e’en sociable to the show of thine,
Fall fellowly drops.—The charm dissolves apace,
And as the morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason.—O good Gonzalo,
My true preserver and a loyal sir
To him thou follow’st, I will pay thy graces
Home, both in word and deed.—Most cruelly
ACT 5. SC. 1Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter.
Thy brother was a furtherer in the act.—
Thou art pinched for ’t now, Sebastian.—Flesh and
You, brother mine, that entertained ambition,
Expelled remorse and nature, whom, with Sebastian,
Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,
Would here have killed your king, I do forgive thee,
Unnatural though thou art.—Their understanding
Begins to swell, and the approaching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shore
That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them
That yet looks on me
, or would know me.—Ariel,
Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell.
Ariel exits and at once returns
with Prospero’s ducal robes.
I will discase me and myself present
As I was sometime Milan.—Quickly, spirit,
Thou shalt ere long be free.
sings, and helps to attire him.
Where the bee sucks, there suck I.
In a cowslip’s bell I lie.
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat’s back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bow.
Why, that’s my dainty Ariel. I shall miss
Thee, but yet thou shalt have freedom. So, so, so.
To the King’s ship, invisible as thou art.
There shalt thou find the mariners asleep
Under the hatches. The master and the boatswain
Being awake, enforce them to this place,
And presently, I prithee.
ACT 5. SC. 1ARIEL
I drink the air before me, and return
Or ere your pulse twice beat.
All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement
Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us
Out of this fearful country!
, to Alonso
Behold, sir king,
The wrongèd Duke of Milan, Prospero.
For more assurance that a living prince
Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body,
He embraces Alonso.
And to thee and thy company I bid
A hearty welcome.
Whe’er thou be’st he or no,
Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me
(As late I have been) I not know. Thy pulse
Beats as of flesh and blood; and since I saw thee,
Th’ affliction of my mind amends, with which
I fear a madness held me. This must crave,
An if this be at all, a most strange story.
Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreat
Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should
Be living and be here?
, to Gonzalo
First, noble friend,
Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot
Be measured or confined.
Whether this be
Or be not, I’ll not swear.
You do yet taste
Some subtleties o’ th’ isle, that will not let you
Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all.
Aside to Sebastian and Antonio.
But you, my brace
of lords, were I so minded,
ACT 5. SC. 1I here could pluck his Highness’ frown upon you
And justify you traitors. At this time
I will tell no tales.
The devil speaks in him.
, aside to Sebastian
For you, most wicked sir, whom to
Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive
Thy rankest fault, all of them, and require
My dukedom of thee, which perforce I know
Thou must restore.
If thou be’st Prospero,
Give us particulars of thy preservation,
How thou hast met us here, whom three hours since
Were wracked upon this shore, where I have lost—
How sharp the point of this remembrance is!—
My dear son Ferdinand.
I am woe for ’t, sir.
Irreparable is the loss, and patience
Says it is past her cure.
I rather think
You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace,
For the like loss, I have her sovereign aid
And rest myself content.
You the like loss?
As great to me as late, and supportable
To make the dear loss have I means much weaker
Than you may call to comfort you, for I
Have lost my daughter.
O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,
The King and Queen there! That they were, I wish
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed
ACT 5. SC. 1Where my son lies!—When did you lose your
In this last tempest. I perceive these lords
At this encounter do so much admire
That they devour their reason, and scarce think
Their eyes do offices of truth, their words
Are natural breath.—But howsoe’er you have
Been justled from your senses, know for certain
That I am Prospero and that very duke
Which was thrust forth of Milan, who most
Upon this shore, where you were wracked, was
To be the lord on ’t. No more yet of this.
For ’tis a chronicle of day by day,
Not a relation for a breakfast, nor
Befitting this first meeting.
This cell’s my court. Here have I few attendants,
And subjects none abroad. Pray you, look in.
My dukedom since you have given me again,
I will requite you with as good a thing,
At least bring forth a wonder to content you
As much as me my dukedom.
Here Prospero discovers
Ferdinand and Miranda,
playing at chess.
, to Ferdinand
Sweet lord, you play me false.
No, my dearest love,
I would not for the world.
Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,
And I would call it fair play.
If this prove
A vision of the island, one dear son
Shall I twice lose.
ACT 5. SC. 1SEBASTIAN
A most high miracle!
, seeing Alonso and coming forward
Though the seas threaten, they are merciful.
I have cursed them without cause.
Now, all the
Of a glad father compass thee about!
Arise, and say how thou cam’st here.
, rising and coming forward
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O, brave new world
That has such people in ’t!
’Tis new to thee.
, to Ferdinand
What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?
Your eld’st acquaintance cannot be three hours.
Is she the goddess that hath severed us
And brought us thus together?
Sir, she is mortal,
But by immortal providence she’s mine.
I chose her when I could not ask my father
For his advice, nor thought I had one. She
Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan,
Of whom so often I have heard renown,
But never saw before, of whom I have
Received a second life; and second father
This lady makes him to me.
I am hers.
But, O, how oddly will it sound that I
Must ask my child forgiveness!
There, sir, stop.
Let us not burden our remembrances with
A heaviness that’s gone.
I have inly wept
ACT 5. SC. 1Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you
And on this couple drop a blessèd crown,
For it is you that have chalked forth the way
Which brought us hither.
Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue
Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice
Beyond a common joy, and set it down
With gold on lasting pillars: in one voyage
Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis,
And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife
Where he himself was lost; Prospero his dukedom
In a poor isle; and all of us ourselves
When no man was his own.
, to Ferdinand and Miranda
Give me your
Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart
That doth not wish you joy!
Be it so. Amen.
Enter Ariel, with the Master and Boatswain
O, look, sir, look, sir, here is more of us.
I prophesied if a gallows were on land,
This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy,
That swear’st grace o’erboard, not an oath on
Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?
The best news is that we have safely found
Our king and company. The next: our ship,
Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split,
Is tight and yare and bravely rigged as when
We first put out to sea.
ACT 5. SC. 1ARIEL
, aside to Prospero
Sir, all this service
Have I done since I went.
, aside to Ariel
My tricksy spirit!
These are not natural events. They strengthen
From strange to stranger.—Say, how came you
If I did think, sir, I were well awake,
I’d strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep
And—how, we know not—all clapped under
Where, but even now, with strange and several
Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains,
And more diversity of sounds, all horrible,
We were awaked, straightway at liberty,
Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld
Our royal, good, and gallant ship, our master
Cap’ring to eye her. On a trice, so please you,
Even in a dream were we divided from them
And were brought moping hither.
, aside to Prospero
Was’t well done?
, aside to Ariel
Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free.
This is as strange a maze as e’er men trod,
And there is in this business more than nature
Was ever conduct of. Some oracle
Must rectify our knowledge.
Sir, my liege,
Do not infest your mind with beating on
The strangeness of this business. At picked leisure,
Which shall be shortly, single I’ll resolve you,
Which to you shall seem probable, of every
These happened accidents; till when, be cheerful
ACT 5. SC. 1And think of each thing well.
Aside to Ariel.
Come hither, spirit;
Set Caliban and his companions free.
Untie the spell.
How fares my gracious
There are yet missing of your company
Some few odd lads that you remember not.
Enter Ariel, driving in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo
in their stolen apparel.
Every man shift for all the rest, and let no
man take care for himself, for all is but fortune.
Coraggio, bully monster, coraggio.
If these be true spies which I wear in my
head, here’s a goodly sight.
O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed! How
fine my master is! I am afraid he will chastise me.
What things are these, my Lord Antonio?
Will money buy ’em?
Very like. One of them
Is a plain fish and no doubt marketable.
Mark but the badges of these men, my lords,
Then say if they be true. This misshapen knave,
His mother was a witch, and one so strong
That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,
And deal in her command without her power.
These three have robbed me, and this demi-devil,
For he’s a bastard one, had plotted with them
To take my life. Two of these fellows you
Must know and own. This thing of darkness I
I shall be pinched to death.
Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?
ACT 5. SC. 1SEBASTIAN
He is drunk now. Where had he wine?
And Trinculo is reeling ripe. Where should they
Find this grand liquor that hath gilded ’em?
How cam’st thou in this pickle?
I have been in such a pickle since I saw you
last that I fear me will never out of my bones. I
shall not fear flyblowing.
Why, how now, Stephano?
O, touch me not! I am not Stephano, but a
You’d be king o’ the isle, sirrah?
I should have been a sore one, then.
, indicating Caliban
This is as strange a thing as e’er I looked on.
He is as disproportioned in his manners
As in his shape.
Go, sirrah, to my cell.
Take with you your companions. As you look
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.
Ay, that I will, and I’ll be wise hereafter
And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass
Was I to take this drunkard for a god,
And worship this dull fool!
Go to, away!
, to Stephano and Trinculo
Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.
Or stole it, rather.
Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo exit.
Sir, I invite your Highness and your train
To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest
For this one night, which part of it I’ll waste
With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it
Go quick away: the story of my life
ACT 5. SC. 1And the particular accidents gone by
Since I came to this isle. And in the morn
I’ll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
Where I have hope to see the nuptial
Of these our dear-belovèd solemnized,
And thence retire me to my Milan, where
Every third thought shall be my grave.
To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely.
I’ll deliver all,
And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,
And sail so expeditious that shall catch
Your royal fleet far off.
Aside to Ariel.
That is thy charge. Then to the elements
Be free, and fare thou well.—Please you, draw near.
They all exit.
spoken by Prospero.
Now my charms are all o’erthrown,
And what strength I have ’s mine own,
Which is most faint. Now ’tis true
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got
And pardoned the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell,
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands.
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
EPILOGUEAnd my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardoned be,
Let your indulgence set me free.
- I must eat…o’ th’ island.: At this period in time, it was commonly thought that witches were real. Much like
in The Tempest, these creatures were feared. In the news article, “Great News from the West of England,” written anonymously in 1689, the author described a common run-in with a witch.
Two teenagers become bewitched by a woman known to be a witch in their town. The witch
casts the same spell on these teenagers that cause them to throw up pins, needles,
handles of spoon, iron, and lead. The author describes the agony that the teenagers
endured and the trials that followed. These trials were witnessed by hundreds of townspeople
and were taken very seriously. It is important to note that during this time in England,
the Glorious Revolution was still happening, and people thought a witch-hunt was just
as important as the Revolution, if not more. This shows the misogyny that goes hand-in-hand
with witchunting. This misogynistic tone is also present in The Tempest when Sycorax had to bear a child, Caliban, in order to not be killed for being a
- The foul witch…into a hoop?: As outcasts of society, witches were portrayed as being old, ugly, and deformed. In
an anonymous report titled A Most Certain, Strange, and true Discovery of a Witch printed by John Hammond in 1643, the witch is portrayed in a woodcut on the title
page as a misshapen old woman with a hunched back, large hooked nose, and hands twice
the size of her feet. In the 17th century, witches were seen as a real threat and
many believed that all witches should be found out and put to death. This fear of
witches led to the imprisonment and murder of many innocent women. The imagery in
this woodcut shows how important the physical characteristics of a witch were to her
- His mother was…without her power: With the use of dark magic, Sycorax, in Shakespeare’s The Tempest, was able to utilize
witchcraft to her advantage, as a form of power. Similar to the witches of Essex presented
in the 1645 document, A True Relation of the Arraignment of Thirty Witches, written by anonymous; the witches manipulate their magic in order to harm innocuous
men, women, and children. In contrast to Sycorax, who isn’t physically present in
Shakespeare’s The Tempest, the witches are able to confess their wrongdoings through
several trials and tribulations.
- I pitied thee,…thing or other.: Even though Rudyard Kipling would not be born for another two-hundred years, the notion
of the “white man’s burden” was certainly evident in the 17th century, both as part
of The Tempest and in England. As the English were spreading throughout the world
and colonizing everything they could, they encountered native populations who they
considered uncivilized. England believed that it was their duty to civilize the native
populations by spreading the English language and Christianity. Miranda embodies this
notion whenever he encounters Caliban. She believes Caliban to be a brute and that
she is doing her duty. For an example of what Kipling was referring to, see “An Epistle to the Christian Indians”, a letter written by Cotton Mather, an English minister. This document, which was
published in 1700 in Boston, was addressed to a group of Native Americans explaining
the virtues of Christianity.
- You taught me…me your language!: The colonial ideology of Shakespeare’s time promoted the ‘civilization’ of supposedly
barbaric native peoples. However, natives often had little to truly gain from this
treatment. Here we see that Caliban is treated in much the same vein, only to his
own resentment. One example of this ideology in action is King Charles I, who in 1630
wrote a proclamation prohibiting English colonizers in New England from trading with the ‘savage’ natives.
- When thou didst…than a prison.: This idea that language was the defining aspect of civilization can be seen in other
writing from the time. “The school-masters auxiliaries, to remove the barbarians siege from Athens” was published
in 1659 as a guide to help teach writing and grammar to the “barbarians” (the Ottoman Empire) in Athens. The divide between the Christian England, who in
the text discuss God as “the Author of Wisdom,” and the Muslim Ottoman Empire who
are referred to as “barbarians” demonstrates this idea that language and religion
define who is seen as civilized.
- And my ending…frees all faults.: The Faust legend has been around since the early 1500s, but it was first popularized
in the English language by playwright Christopher Marlowe in 1592. Modern readers
who have only been exposed to Elizabethan era depictions of magic through Shakespeare
might mistakenly draw the conclusion that its use was a forgivable offense. Reading
The Tragical Life of Doctor Faustus should be enough to disabuse anyone of that notion. For Prospero, magic is the mark
of an educated man and the path to his happily ever after. For Faustus, acquiring
magic through a deal with the devil is his original sin and the cause of his downfall.
Both characters ask for forgiveness at the end of their own play. For Faustus, this
forgiveness is not granted.
- Of thee, my…what thou art,: In the 17th century ignorance was seen as a desirable trait for a woman. A person
writing under the pseudonym I.H. Gentleman explores this and other ethical and moral
expectations of women in their 1642 writing A strange wonder or a wonder in a woman where they analyze the morality of things such as drinking and lying in a satirical
fashion. This piece can be used as context for the morality and expectation of women
and men in the 17th century to better inform your reading of gender roles within The
- Mine would, sir, were I human.: In Act 5 Scene 1, Ariel conveys forgiveness should be in human nature by firmly believing
he would become tender if he were a human. This raises the question whether it’s human
nature to seek vengeance or forgiveness which relates to the ethical theme of line
170 in the text. Line 170 is stated in a manner that implies unethical actions should
be confessed to presumably god and face the consequences. Ultimately, both texts bring the notion that it’s more human to be forgiving than vengeance and enforces
good morality to those wrong doers.
- Worthily purchased, take…discord shall bestrew: This scene is especially good as it clearly establishes this text, The Virgins ABC, connection to the play. Even in the “New” world of the island, Miranda is still
expected to exists within the conflicts of patriarchy. The other interesting point
this scene establishes is the idea that the patriarchy that Miranda does or does not
engage with is not of her own choice or violation but instead the unique interpretation
of patriarchy created by her father. Prospero’s Interaction with Miranda display some
of the trademarks of traditional patriarchy such as the correlation between purity
and a woman’s value. In addition, expressing the deep importance of abstinence before
marriage for a women and it’s low importance for men.
- No, precious creature,…sit lazy by.: This scene shows a place where Miranda’s action could be construed as bucking Patriarchy.
She offers to carry logs for Ferdinand which is a very physical labor which women
who are wealthy enough to avoid it should. Ferdinand quickly rebukes her offer as
allowing her help would violate his concept of patriarchy while also threatening his
masculine ability to take care of a lover or spouse and provide for them in a way
that prevents them from having to participate in physical labor.
- Abhorrèd slave, Which…wilt not take,: This scene shows a more violent and angry side of Miranda. The document, The Virgins ABC, written in 1638 by anonymous, suggests that women should speak in a kind and non-offensive
manor. This speech is overly aggressive for a women of the time even in a case where
the woman is speaking to someone below her as opposed to someone above her.
- Hence, bashful cunning,…and holy innocence.: Miranda speaks to Ferdinand of her all-encompassing love for him, and he subsequently
promises to marry her. She swears off cunning and wishes for innocence in order to
be a better wife. Innocence was a highly prized quality in a wife at the time, and
cunning was considered to be a negative quality. In the document The Married Man’s Lesson: or, A ddisswasion from Iealousie by author M. P., husbands are warned to appreciate good wives when they find them
because they are rare to find and easy to lose. Ferdinand professes his deep love
for Miranda, and promises to look after her and provide for her as was encouraged
at the time.
- O, if a virgin,: A woman’s virginity was of utmost importance in the 15th century (and arguably still
is today) in determining a woman’s value. The poem “A Lamentable Ballad of the Ladies Fall”, published anonymously in 1688, depicts the tragedy of a young couple who have premarital
intercourse, and the extreme shame that comes with the “tarnishing of one’s purity”,
especially for the woman who falls pregnant who often times must take on the blame.
In the Tempest, Ferdinand only wants to take Miranda as his wife if she is a virgin.
In A Lamentable Ballad of the Ladies Fall, a young couple suffer dire consequences
for their actions of breaking a societal norm. Both this poem and the attention on
Miranda’s own virginity in The Tempest show the symbolism of a woman’s virginity in
relation to her own worth in society.
- Thou dost, and…baked with frost.: From the 16th to 18th century, Kings often times paid for their detested reputation
with their heads. As Prospero tries, but fails, to exemplify in The Tempest, rulers
need to know how to be a fair and just leader to his subjects. Published anonymously
in 1642, "Examples for Kings" outlines how a commander should act, as well as providing much needed guidance.
The characters who have power in The Tempest — whether it be in the form of magic
or status — let it turn them conceited, and as a result, their subjects detest them.
The 1642 document is an exemplar of how rulers should be, and the benefits that come
from being a good monarch.
- Then, as my…thine own acquisition: This document is an example of the type of contract Prospero is attempting to create
between Miranda and Ferdinand. It is titled “A True Relation of the Treaty and Ratification of the Marriage...” and the author is unknown. It was printed in 1642 although the marriage occurred
in 1625. The document details a list of stipulations to King Charles of Britain’s
Marriage with Henrietta Maria of France. It is stated on the first page of the document
that the purpose of the marriage was to strengthen the bond between the two monarchies.
As seen in the play here, Prospero is using Miranda to create a blood relationship
between himself and the King of Naples, Alonso, as to escape his exile and be restored
to his Dukedom.
- All lost! To…prayers! All lost! and The wills above…a dry death: During the Post Elizabethan Age, there was concern about the authority of England.
Many people were starting to question the leadership of the royalty and became more
interested in a democracy. However, the Divine Right of Kings explains that Kings
are on the same level as Gods. This ended a lot of the questioning of authority because
the extremely religious English people did not question the Authority of God. John
Gauden’s letter, “The Religious and Loyal Protestation of John Gauden Dr. in divinity”, to Lord Fairfax from 1648 exemplifies the zeitgeist of the Post Elizabethan Age.
John Gauden suggests that Lord Fairfax should know his place and understand that God
is the ultimate authority. Although Gauden does not have authority to give commands
to Lord Fairfax, God does; and Gauden suggests that God would command Lord Fairfax
to change the way he has been ruling. In times when authority is leading poorly and
all hope is lost, God must take control and be the ultimate authority. Both the aristocrats
and the lowly Mariners admit that fate is up to God. They both recognize that they’re
nothing compared to the power of God. In this document, John Gauden has recognized
that God is the highest power, and is calling upon Lord Fairfax to recognize God as
the highest power just as the Mariners and Gonzalo did in Shakespeare’s The Tempest.