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flr it bath drawn me rather:—But 'tis gone. Kb, it begins again.

Ariel sings.
Full fathom five thy father lies:

Of his bones are coral made \
Those are pearls that mere his eyes;
Kothing of him thai doth fade,

But doth suffer a sea-change
Into somethint; rich and at ran 3

if ring his knell:

i strange,
ig his knell
Hark! How I hear them,—ding-dong, bell.

[Burden, ding-dong
Per. The ditty does remember my drown'd father;
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes :—I hear it now above me.

Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say, what thou Eeest yond'.

Kira. What is't? a spirit?

I-ord, bow it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form;—But 'tis a spirit, [senses
Pro. No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath such
As we have, such: This gallant, which thou seest,
Was in the wreck; and but he's something atain'd
With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou might'st
call him

A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,
And strays about to find them.

Mira. I might call him

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

Pro. It goes on, [Aside.

As my soul prompts it:—Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free Within two days for this. [thee

Per. 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,
Bow I may bear me here: My prime request,
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
If you be made, or no? t

tfira. No wonder, sir;

But, certainly a maid.

Per. My language! heavens I—

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

Pro. How! the best?

What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee?

Fer. A single thing, as 1 am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples : He does hear me And, that he docs, I weep: myself am Naples; Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The king my father wreck'd.

Mira. Alack, for mercy!

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

Pro. The duke of Milan,

And his more braver daughter, could control thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't:—At the first sight [Aside.
They have t hang'd eyes :—Delicate Ariel,
III set thee free for this!—A word, good sir;
1 fear, yon have done yourself some wrong: a word.

Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently ? This
Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first
That e'er I algh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!

Fer. O, If a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The qneen of Naples.

Pn. Soft, sir: one word more—

They are both in elther's powers: but this swift business

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

Per. No, as I am a man.

Mira. There's nothing ill can-dwell In such a temple:

If the ill spirit have so fair an house, flood things will strive to dwell with't.

Pro. Follow me [To Ftrd.

Speak not you for him j he's a traitor.—Come,
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:
Sea-water shalt thou drink, thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled: Follow.

Fer. No;
I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy has more power. [He draws.

Mira. O dear father.

Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful.

Pro. What, I say,

My foot my tutor!—Put thy sword up, traitor; Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience

Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward;
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.
Mira. Beseech you, father!

Pro. Hence; hang not on my garments.
Mita. Sir, have pity;

I'll be his surety.

Pro. Silence : one word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an impostor? hush!
Thou think'st there are no more such shapes as be,
Having seen but him and Caliban: Foolish wench!
To the most of men this Is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels.

Mira. My affections

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

Pro. Come on; obey: [To Ftrd.

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

Fer. So they are:

My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, or this man's 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'the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have 1 in such a prison.

Pro. It works:—Come on

Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!—Follow me.—

[To Ferdinand and Miranda. Hark, what thou else shalt do me. [To Ariel.

ira. Be of comfort;

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

Pro. Thou shalt be as free

.As mountain winds: but then exactly do
All points of my command.
Art. To the syllable.

Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt.

SCENE L Another Part of the Island. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Honzalo, Adrian, Francisco, mid others. Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry, you have cause (So have we all) of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss: Our hint of woe Is common : every day, some sailor's wife, The masters of some merchant, and the merchant, Have just our theme of woe: but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort. Aion. Pr'ythee, peace.

Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so. Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; By and by it will strike.

Gen. Sir,

Seb, One: .Tell

Gon. When every grief ii entcrtaln'd, that's Comes to the entertainer— [offer'd, Seb. A dollar.

Gon. Dolour conies to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than von purposed.

Seb. You haTe taken it wUelier than I meant you should.

Gon. Therefore, my lord,—

Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

Alon. I pr*ythee spare.

Gon. Well, 1 have done; But vet—

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant, Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

Ant. The cockrel.

Seb. Done i the wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match.

Aitr, Though this Island seem to be desert,—
Seb. Ha, ha, ha!
Ant. So, you're pay'd.

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

Ant. He could not miss it.

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.

Seb. Aye, and a subtle; as he most learnedly deli rered.

Adr. The air breathes upon u* here most sweetly.
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or, its 'twere perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.
Seb. Of that there's none, or little.
Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks ? how
green?

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb. With an eye of green ln't.
Ant. He misses not much.

Srb. No ; he doth but mistake the truth totally.

Gon. But the rarity of It is (which is indeed almost beyond credit)—

Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are.

Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness, and glosses; being rather new dy'd, than stain'd with salt water.

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

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

Gon. Methlnks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Africk, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis.

Seb. "J"was a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Adr. Tunis was never grae'd before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time.

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

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

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

Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Adr. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp.

Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.

Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?

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

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

Gon. Ay.

Ant. Why, in good time.

Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments teem

now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis at the

maniage of your daughter, who is now queen.

Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.

Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.

Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.

Gun. When 1 wore it at your daughter's marriage?

Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against

The stomach of my sense: 'would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,
I ne'er again shall see her. () thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee!

Fran. Sir, he may live;

I saw him beat the surges under hfm,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water.
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
As stooping to relieve him: I doubt not,
He rame alive to land.

Alon. No, no, he's gone.

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

.-Hon. l'r'ythee, peace.

Seb. You were kneel'd to, and Importun'd otherBy all of us; and the fair soul herself [wise Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at Which end o'the beam she bow'd. We have lost your son,

I fear, for ever i Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business' making.
Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault's
Your own.

Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.

Gon. My lord Sebastian,

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

Seb. Very well.

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.

Gon. It Is foul weather in us all, good sir. When you are cloudy.

Seb. Foul weather?

Ant. Very foul.

Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,—

Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.

Seb. Or docks, or mallows.

Gon. And were the king of it, What would I do?

Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine.

Gon. I'the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things: for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, successions, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none: No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil: No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too; but innocent and pure • No sovereignty |<

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Ant. None, man; all idle; whores, and knaves. Gm. I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age. Seb. 'Save his majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonialo!

Gon. -And, do you ma*k me, sir ?—

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

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

Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.

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

Ant. What a blow was there given?

Seb. An It had not fallen flat-long.

Gar. You are gvntiemen 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 tolemn musick.

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

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

Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

[All ileep Imt Alon. Sen. and Ant.

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

Seb. Please you, sir,

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

Ant. We two, my lord,

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

Alon. Thank you; Wond'rous heavy —

[Alonso sleep*. Exit Ariel.

Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

Ant. It is th' quality o* th' climate.

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

Ant. Nor I; my spirits are nimble.

They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian ?—O, what might ?—No more :—
And yet, methlnks, I see it in thy face,
What thou should'st be: th' occasion speaks thee;
My strong imagination sees a crown [and
Dropping upon thy head.
Seo. What, art thou waking?

Ant. Do you not hear me speak?
Seb. I do; and, surely,

It is a sleepy language; and thou speak *st
Out of thy sleep: What is it thou didst say?

This is a strange repose, to be asleep

yes wide or And yet so fast asl _ , Ant. Noble Sebastian,

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.

Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly;

There's meaning In thy snore..

Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you
Must be so too, If heed mi; which to do,
Trebles thee o'er.
Seb. Well; I am standing water.

Ant. Ill teach you how to flow.
Seb. Do so: to ebb,

Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Ant. 0, If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, Yen more Invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, Most often do so near the bottom run, By their own fear, or sloth. Seb. Pr'ythee, say on:

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

Ant. Thus, sir i

Although this lord of weak remembrance, this
(Who shall be of as little memory,
When he is earth'd,) hath here almost persuaded
(For he's a spirit of persuasion, only
Professes to persuade) the king, his son's alive:
'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd.
As he that sleeps here, swims.

Seb. I have no hope
That he's undrown'd.

Ant. O, out of that no hoi",

What great hope have you ! no hope, that way, is
Another way so high an hope, that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with
me,

That Ferdinand Is drown'd?

Seb. He'" gone.

Ant. Then, tell me,

Who's the next heir of Naples?

Seb. Claribel.

Ant. Shethat is queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post, (The man i' th' moon's too slow,) till new-born chins Be rough and razorable: she, from whom We all weresea-swallow'd, though some cast again And, by that, destln'd to perform an act, Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come, In yours and mv discharge.

Seb. MTiat stuff-is

'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of
So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions
There is some space.

Ant. A space whose every cubit

Seems to cry out, Horv shall that Claribel
Measure ui back to NfivUs T— Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake 1—Say, this were death
That now hath selz'd 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 amplv, and unnecessarily,
As this Gonzalo; 1 myself could make
A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For vour advancement! Do you understand me?

Seb. Methinks, I do.

Ant. And how does your content

Tender your own good fortune?

Seb. I remember,

You did supplant your brother Prospero.

Ant. True:

And, look, how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before: My brother's servants
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.
Seo. But, for your conscience—
Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kybe,
'Twould put me to my slipper; But I feel not
This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
That stand 'twlxt me and Milan, candied be they,
And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon, [whom I,
If he were that which now he's like, that's dead;
With this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever: whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, this sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk;
They'll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.

Seb. Thy case, deer 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 pay'st;

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Seh. O, but one word.

[They com tree apart. Mustc. Re-entc Ariel, invisible.

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

[Sings in Gonzalo's ear.
While you here do snoring lie,
Open-ey'd conspiracy

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

[They wake.

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

Gon. What's the matter?

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

Alon. I heard nothing.

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

Atov. Herd you this, Gonxalo?

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

Alon. Lead otf this ground; and let's make further For my poor son. [search

Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts!

For he is, sure, i' th' island.

Alon. Lead away, [done:

Ari. Prospero,my lord, shall know what I have
[Aside.

So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. Another Part of the Island.
Enter Caliban, with a Burden of wood.
A noise of Thunder Heard.

Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, fl ats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By Inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me.
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' th' mire,
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid them; but
For every trifle are they set upon me:
Sometimes like apes, that moe and chatter at me,
And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I
All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues,
Do hiss me into madness :—Lo! now! lo!

Enter Trinculo.

Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me, For bringing wood in slowly: I'll fall flat; Perchance, he will not mind me.

Trin. Here's neither 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 bumbard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls.—What have wo here? a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish : he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I in England now, (as once I was,) and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver : there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a

1 man : when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a man! and his fins like arms 1 Warm, o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunder-bolt. [Thunder.] Alas! the storm is come again: my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past.

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

Here shall I die a-shore ;—
This Is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral:
Well, here's my comfort. [Drinks.
The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,

The gunner, and hi* mate, Lov'd Mall, Meg, und Marian, and Margery, But none ofut car'dfor Kate: For she had a tongue with a tang. Would cry to a sailor, Go, hang: She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch, Yet a tailor might scratch her mhere-e'er the did itch; Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang. This is a scurvy tune too: Hut here's my comfort.

[Drinks.

Cal. Do not torment me : O!

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

Cal. The spirit torments me: O 1

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

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

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

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

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

Trin. I should know that voice: It should be— But he is drowned; and these arc devils: 0 .' defend me!—

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

Trin. Stephano,—

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

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

Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth; IH pull thee by the lesser legs : if any he Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed: How cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos?

Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunderstroke:—But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I
hope Bow, thou art not drowned. Is the storm
overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's
gaberdine, for fear of the storm: And art thou liv-
ing, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans
"icap'd!

Ste. Pr*yfhee, do not turn me about; my stomach
is not constant.

Cat. These be fine things, an if they be not sprites.
That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor:
1 Till kneel to him.

ste. How didst thou 'scape? How cam'st thou
hither? swear by this bottle,how thou cam'st hi-
ther. I escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sai-
lors heaved over-board, by this bottle 1 which I
made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands,
since I was cast ashore.

Cat. I'll swear, upon that bottle, to he thy
True subject; for the liquor is not earthly.

■'['■. Here; swear then how thou escap'clst.

Trin. Swam a-shore, man, like a duck; I can
swim like a duck, I'll be sworn.

Ste. Here, kiss the book: Though thou can'st
>*im like a duck, thou art made like a goose.

Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this?

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

Cat. Hast thou not dropped from heaven?

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

Cat. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee;
My mistress shewed me thee, and thy dog, and thy
bnsh.

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

Trin. By this good light, this Is a very shallow
monster:—I afeard of him ?—a very weak mon-
ster ■—The man i' the moon? a most poor credu-
lous monster:—Well drawn, monster, in good sooth.

Cat. Ill shew thee every fertile inch o'th'island;
And I will kiss thy foot. I pr'ytbee, be my god.

Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunk-
en monster; when his god's asleep, he'll rob his
bottle.

- Cat. 111 kiss thy foot: 111 swear myself thy subject.

We. Come on then; down, and swear.

Tri». I shall laugh myself to death at this pup-
py-headed monster: A most scurvy monster 1 I
eon Id find In my heart to beat him,—

Stt. Come, kiss.

Trin, —but that the poor monster's In drink: An
sbominable monster!

Cat. Ill shew thee the best springs; 111 pluck
thee berries;
111 fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
IH hear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wondrous man.

Trin. A most ridiculous monster; to make a
*onder of a poor drunkard. [grow;

Cat. I pr*ythee, let me bring thee where crabs
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;
Shew thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how
To mare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee
To chut "ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee
Voting sea-mells from the rock: W-lt thou go with
me?

Stt. I pr'ythee now, lead the way, without any
more talking.—Trinculo, the king and all our
company else being drowned, we wiH inherit here.
-Here; bear my bottle. Fellow Trinculo, we'll
fill him by and by again.
Cat. Fartmil maeter ; farewell, farewell.

[Sing-* dmnkenly.
Trin. A howling monster; a drunken monster.
Cat. }io more dame I'll make for Jisft;
Nor fetch in firing
At requiring,
Sot terape trenckering, nor rvath dith;
'Ban 'Ban, CaCaliban,
Has a nerv matttrGet a new man.

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ACT III.

SCENE I. Before Prospero's Cell.

Enter Ferdinand, bearing a Log.

Fer. There be some sports are painful; and
their labour

Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters
I'oint to rich ends. This my mean task
Would be as heavy to me, as odious; but
The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead.
And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is
Ten time; more gentle than her father's crabbed;
And he's composed of harshness. 1 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 s- j -, such
Had ne'er like executor. I forget: [baseness
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my la-
Most busy-less, when 1 do it. [hours;

Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a Distance.

Mira. Alas, now! pray you,

Work not so hard: I would, the lightning had
Bumt up those logs, that you are enjoin'd to pile1
Pray, set it down, and rest you: when this burns,
'Twill weep for having wearied you: My father
Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;
He's safe for these three hours.

Fer. O most dear mistress,

The sun will set, before I shall discharge
What 1 must strive to do.

Mira. If you'll sit down,

I'll bear your logs the while: Pray, give me that:
I'll carry it to the pile.

Fer. No, precious creature:

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

Jtfira. It would become me

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

Pro. Poor worm! thou art infected;

This visitation shews it.

Mira. You look wearily. [me,

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

Mira. Miranda:—0 my father,

I have broke your hest to say so ■

Fer. Admir'd Miranda

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

Mira. I do not know

One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have 1 seen
More that I may call men, than you, good friend,
And my dear father: how features are abroad,
I am skill-less of; but, by my modesty,
(The Jewel In my dower,) I would not wish
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.

Ft>-, I am in my condition,

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