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Or it hath drawn me rather:-But 'tis gone.

No, it begins again.

Ariel sings.

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.
[Burden, ding-dong.
Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father;
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes :-I hear it now above me.
Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And say, what thou seest yond'.
Mira.
What is't? a spirit?
Lord, how 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 stain'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 Fer.

Most sure, the goddess
On whom these airs attend!-Vouchsafe, my prayer
May know, if you remain upon this island;
And that you will some good instruction give,
How I may bear me here: My prime request,
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
If you be made, or no?

Mira.

But, certainly a maid.

Fer.

No wonder, sir;

My language! heavens!
I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken.
Pro.

How! the best?
What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee?
Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
To hear thee speak of Naples: He does hear me ;
And, that he does, I weep: myself am Naples;
Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld
The king my father wreck'd.
Mira.
Alack, for mercy!
Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of
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 chang'd eyes:-Delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this!-A word, good sir;
I fear, you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first
That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!

Fer.

O, if a virgin,

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

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

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What, I say,

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

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

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

Mira.
Beseech you, father!
Pro. Hence; hang not on my garments.
Mira.
Sir, have pity;

I'll be his surety.
Pro.
Silence one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an impostor? hush!

Thou think'st there are no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: Foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels.

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

Pro.

So they are:

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

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SCENE I.

ACT II.

Another Part of the Island.

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,
Francisco, and others.

Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry. you have cause
(So have we all) of joy; for our escape
Soft, sir: one word more.-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.
Alon.
Pr'ythee, peace.

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

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Seb. A dollar.

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis at the
Comes to the entertainer-
[offer'd, marriage of your daughter, who is now queen.
Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.
Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.
Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first
day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

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

Seb. You have taken it wiselier 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, I have done: But yet

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against

The stomach of my sense: 'would I had never

Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,

wager, first begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

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Seb. Ha, ha, ha!

Ant. So, you've pay'd.

My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,

I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee!

Fran.

Sir, he may live;

I saw him beat the surges under him,

And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible, The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head
Seb. Yet,

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not miss it.

'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,

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and de- As stooping to relieve him: I doubt not, licate temperance.

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.

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

Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or, as '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.

He came alive to land.

Alon.

loss

No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great {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. Alon.

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks? how By all of us; and the fair soul herself green ?

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb. With an eye of green in't.

Ant. He misses not much.

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

Seb. As many 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. Methinks, 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. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Adr. Tunis was never grac'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 Æneas too? good lord, how you take it!

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

Adr. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

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

next?

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Pr'ythee, peace. Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd other[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: 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.

Ant.

Foul weather?

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 :

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

Gon. All things in common, nature should produce

Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, nor need of any engine,
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
Of its own kind, all foizon, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?

2

Ant. None, man; all idle; whores, and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age. Seb.

Ant. Long live Gonzalo !

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

Ant.

Thus, sir: Although this lord of weak remembrance, this ?-(Who shall be of as little memory,

'Save his majesty ! And, do you mark me, sir Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing

Gon.

to me.

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

Ant. "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.

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

Enter Ariel invisible, playing solemn 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 sleep but Alon. Seh. and Ant. Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: They are inclin'd to do so. [find, Please you, sir,

Seb.

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

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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 ho,
What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is
Another way so high an hope, that even
Ambition cannot pieroe a wink beyond,

But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with

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Claribel.

Seb. Ant. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post, (The man i' th' moon's too slow,) till new-born chins Be rough and razorable: she, from whom We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again And, by that, destin'd to perform an act, Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come, In yours and my discharge. Seb. What stuff is this ?-How say you? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis ; So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is some space.

Ant.

A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples -Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake!-Say, this were death
That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no 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?
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 garinents sit upon me; Much feater than before: My brother's servants Were then my fellows, now they are my men. Seb. But, for your conscience

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kybe, Twould put me to my slipper; But I feel not This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they, And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, [whom 1, 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, 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 pay'st; And I the king shall love thee.

Ant.

Draw together.

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

Seb.

O, but one word.
[They con erse apart.
Music. Re-enter Ariel, invisible.

Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger
That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth,
(For else his project dies,) to keep them living.
[Sings in Gonzalo's ear.
While you here do snoring lie,
Open-ey'd conspiracy

His time doth take:

If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake! Awake!

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

[They wake.
Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you
Wherefore this ghastly looking?
[drawn?
Gon.
What's the matter?
Seh. 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.
Alon.
Heard you this, Gonzalo ?
Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd; as mine eyes open'd,
I saw their weapons drawn:-there was a noise,
That's verity: "Tis best we stand upon our guard:
Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.
Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make further
For my poor son.
[search
Gon.
Heavens keep him from these beasts!
For he is, sure, i' th' island.
Alon.

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

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

Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
But none of us car'd for Kate:
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go, hang:
She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
Yet a tailor might scratch her where-e'er she did itch:
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.
This is a scurvy tune too: But here's my comfort.
[Drinks.

Cal. Do not torment me: 0!
Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here?
Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men
of Inde? Ha! I have not 'scap'd drowning, to be
afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said,
As proper a man as ever went on four legs, cannot
make him give ground: and it shall be said so a-
gain, while Stephano breathes at nostrils.
Cal. The spirit torments me: O!

Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four legs; who hath got, as I take it, an ague: Where Lead away. [done: the devil should he learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be but for that: If I can [Aside. 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.

Ari. Prospero, my lord, shall know what I have 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, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' 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.

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 shai! pay for him that hath him, and that soundly.

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

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

But he is drowned; and these are devils: O! de

Trin. I should know that voice: It should be

fend 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, IAmen! I will pour some in thy other mouth. Trin. Stephano,

Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; 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 we here? a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I in England now, (as once I was,) and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a

Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy! mercy! 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; I'll pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be 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 thunder

hey-day, freedom!

Sie. O brave monster! lead the way.

[Exeunt.

stroke-But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I| Freedom, hey day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hope now, thou art not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine, for fear of the storm: And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scap'd!

Ste. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.

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

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

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

Ste. Here; swear then how thou escap'dst. 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 swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose.

Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this? Ste. 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 ?

Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven? Ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man in the moon, when time was.

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

bush.

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

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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
Point to rich ends. This my mean task
Would be as heavy to me, as odious; but
The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed;
And he's composed of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,
Upon a sore injunction: My sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work: and says, such
Had ne'er like executor. I forget: [baseness
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my la
Most busy-less, when I do it.
[bours;

Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a Distance.
Mira.
Alas, now! pray you,

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

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

Mira.

Trin. By this good light, this is a very shallow monster-I afeard of him ?-a very weak monIf you'll sit down, ster :-The man i' the moon? a most poor credu- I'll bear your logs the while: Pray, give me that: lous monster :-Well drawn, monster, in good sooth. I'll carry it to the pile. Cal. I'll shew thee every fertile inch o'th' island; Fer. No, precious creature: And I will kiss thy foot. I pr'ythee, be my god. I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,.. Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunk-Than you should such dishonour undergo, en monster; when his god's asleep, he'll rob his While I sit lazy by. bottle. Mira.

Cal. I'll kiss thy foot: I'll swear myself thy subject. Ste. Come on then; down, and swear.. Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this pup. py-headed monster: A most scurvy monster ! I could find in my heart to beat him,

Ste. Come, kiss.

Trin. but that the poor monster's in drink: An abominable monster!

Cal. I'll shew 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 wond'rous man.

Trin. A most ridiculous monster; to make a wonder of a poor drunkard. [grow; Cal. 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 snare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee To clust'ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee Young sea-mells from the rock: Wilt thou go with me ?

Ste. I pr'ythee 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.

Cal. Farewell master; farewell, farewell.
[Sings drunkenly.
Trin. A howling monster; a drunken monster.
Cal. No more dams I'll make for fish;
Nor fetch in firing
At requiring,

Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish;
'Ban 'Ban, Ca-Caliban,

Has a new master-Get a new man.

[me,

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. 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? Miranda :--O my father, I have broke your hest to say so!

Mira.

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, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd, And put it to the foil: But you, O 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 I seen More that I may call men, than you, good friend, And my dear father: how features are abroad, I am skill-less of; but, by my modesty, (The jewel in my dower,) I would not wish Any companion in the world but you, Nor can imagination form a shape, Resides yourself, to like of: But I prattle Something too wildly, and my father's precepts I therein do forget.

Fer.

I am in my condition,

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