SCENE I. Before Prospero’s cell.

Enter Ferdinand bearing a log.

FERDINAND.
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 compos’d of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,
Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work, and says such baseness
Had never like executor. I forget:
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,
Most busy, least when I do it.

Enter Miranda and Prospero behind.

MIRANDA.
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.

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

MIRANDA.
If you’ll sit down,
I’ll bear your logs the while. Pray give me that;
I’ll carry it to the pile.

FERDINAND.
No, precious creature;
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.

MIRANDA.
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.

PROSPERO.
[Aside.] Poor worm! thou art infected.
This visitation shows it.

MIRANDA.
You look wearily.

FERDINAND.
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.
Miranda—O my father!
I have broke your hest to say so.

FERDINAND.
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
Th’ 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.

MIRANDA.
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.

FERDINAND.
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.

MIRANDA.
Do you love me?

FERDINAND.
O heaven, O 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’ the world,
Do love, prize, honour you.

MIRANDA.
I am a fool
To weep at what I am glad of.

PROSPERO.
[Aside.] Fair encounter
Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace
On that which breeds between ’em!

FERDINAND.
Wherefore weep you?

MIRANDA.
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.

FERDINAND.
My mistress, dearest;
And I thus humble ever.

MIRANDA.
My husband, then?

FERDINAND.
Ay, with a heart as willing
As bondage e’er of freedom: here’s my hand.

MIRANDA.
And mine, with my heart in ’t: and now farewell
Till half an hour hence.

FERDINAND.
A thousand thousand!

[Exeunt Ferdinand and Miranda severally.]

PROSPERO.
So glad of this as they, I cannot be,
Who are surpris’d withal; but my rejoicing
At nothing can be more. I’ll to my book;
For yet, ere supper time, must I perform
Much business appertaining.

[Exit.]

SCENE II. Another part of the island.

Enter Caliban with a bottle, Stephano and Trinculo.

STEPHANO.
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.

TRINCULO.
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 totters.

STEPHANO.
Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes are almost set in thy head.

TRINCULO.
Where should they be set else? He were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.

STEPHANO.
My man-monster hath drown’d 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.

TRINCULO.
Your lieutenant, if you list; he’s no standard.

STEPHANO.
We’ll not run, Monsieur monster.

TRINCULO.
Nor go neither. But you’ll lie like dogs, and yet say nothing neither.

STEPHANO.
Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good moon-calf.

CALIBAN.
How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe. I’ll not serve him, he is not valiant.

TRINCULO.
Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to justle a constable. Why, thou deboshed 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 monster?

CALIBAN.
Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?

TRINCULO.
“Lord” quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural!

CALIBAN.
Lo, lo again! bite him to death, I prithee.

STEPHANO.
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 indignity.

CALIBAN.
I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas’d to hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?

STEPHANO.
Marry. will I. Kneel and repeat it. I will stand, and so shall Trinculo.

Enter Ariel, invisible.

CALIBAN.
As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island.

ARIEL.
Thou liest.

CALIBAN.
Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou;
I would my valiant master would destroy thee;
I do not lie.

STEPHANO.
Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in his tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.

TRINCULO.
Why, I said nothing.

STEPHANO.
Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.

CALIBAN.
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,—

STEPHANO.
That’s most certain.

CALIBAN.
Thou shalt be lord of it and I’ll serve thee.

STEPHANO.
How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou bring me to the party?

CALIBAN.
Yea, yea, my lord: I’ll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.

ARIEL.
Thou liest. Thou canst not.

CALIBAN.
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 nought but brine; for I’ll not show him
Where the quick freshes are.

STEPHANO.
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 stock-fish of thee.

TRINCULO.
Why, what did I? I did nothing. I’ll go farther off.

STEPHANO.
Didst thou not say he lied?

ARIEL.
Thou liest.

STEPHANO.
Do I so? Take thou that.

[Strikes Trinculo.]

As you like this, give me the lie another time.

TRINCULO.
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!

CALIBAN.
Ha, ha, ha!

STEPHANO.
Now, forward with your tale.—Prithee stand further off.

CALIBAN.
Beat him enough: after a little time,
I’ll beat him too.

STEPHANO.
Stand farther.—Come, proceed.

CALIBAN.
Why, as I told thee, ’tis a custom with him
I’ th’ afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him,
Having first seiz’d his books; or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his wezand 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.

STEPHANO.
Is it so brave a lass?

CALIBAN.
Ay, lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant,
And bring thee forth brave brood.

STEPHANO.
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?

TRINCULO.
Excellent.

STEPHANO.
Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but while thou liv’st, keep a good tongue in thy head.

CALIBAN.
Within this half hour will he be asleep.
Wilt thou destroy him then?

STEPHANO.
Ay, on mine honour.

ARIEL.
This will I tell my master.

CALIBAN.
Thou mak’st me merry. I am full of pleasure.
Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch
You taught me but while-ere?

STEPHANO.
At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.

[Sings.]

Flout ’em and cout ’em,
and scout ’em and flout ’em:
Thought is free.

CALIBAN.
That’s not the tune.

[Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe.]

STEPHANO.
What is this same?

TRINCULO.
This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture of Nobody.

STEPHANO.
If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness: if thou beest a devil, take ’t as thou list.

TRINCULO.
O, forgive me my sins!

STEPHANO.
He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy upon us!

CALIBAN.
Art thou afeard?

STEPHANO.
No, monster, not I.

CALIBAN.
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 wak’d 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 wak’d,
I cried to dream again.

STEPHANO.
This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing.

CALIBAN.
When Prospero is destroyed.

STEPHANO.
That shall be by and by: I remember the story.

TRINCULO.
The sound is going away. Let’s follow it, and after do our work.

STEPHANO.
Lead, monster: we’ll follow. I would I could see this taborer! he lays it on. Wilt come?

TRINCULO.
I’ll follow, Stephano.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. Another part of the island.

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, &c.

GONZALO.
By ’r lakin, I can go no further, sir;
My old bones ache: here’s a maze trod, indeed,
Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience,
I needs must rest me.

ALONSO.
Old lord, I cannot blame thee,
Who am myself attach’d 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 drown’d
Whom thus we stray to find; and the sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.

ANTONIO.
[Aside to Sebastian.] I am right glad that he’s
so out of hope.
Do not, for one repulse, forgo the purpose
That you resolv’d to effect.

SEBASTIAN.
[Aside to Antonio.] The next advantage
Will we take throughly.

ANTONIO.
[Aside to Sebastian.] Let it be tonight;
For, now they are oppress’d with travel, they
Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance
As when they are fresh.

SEBASTIAN.
[Aside to Antonio.] I say, tonight: no more.

Solemn and strange music: and Prospero above, invisible. Enter several strange Shapes, bringing in a banquet: they dance about it with gentle actions of salutation; and inviting the King &c., to eat, they depart.

ALONSO.
What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!

GONZALO.
Marvellous sweet music!

ALONSO.
Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?

SEBASTIAN.
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.

ANTONIO.
I’ll believe both;
And what does else want credit, come to me,
And I’ll be sworn ’tis true: travellers ne’er did lie,
Though fools at home condemn them.

GONZALO.
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.

PROSPERO.
[Aside.] Honest lord,
Thou hast said well; for some of you there present
Are worse than devils.

ALONSO.
I cannot too much muse
Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing—
Although they want the use of tongue—a kind
Of excellent dumb discourse.

PROSPERO.
[Aside.] Praise in departing.

FRANCISCO.
They vanish’d strangely.

SEBASTIAN.
No matter, since
They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.—
Will’t please you taste of what is here?

ALONSO.
Not I.

GONZALO.
Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,
Who would believe that there were mountaineers
Dewlapp’d like bulls, whose throats had hanging at ’em
Wallets of flesh? Or that there were such men
Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find
Each putter-out of five for one will bring us
Good warrant of.

ALONSO.
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.

Thunder and lightning. Enter Ariel like a Harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes.

ARIEL.
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 valour men hang and drown
Their proper selves.

[Seeing Alonso, Sebastian &c., draw their swords.]

You fools! I and my fellows
Are ministers of Fate: the elements
Of whom your swords are temper’d may as well
Wound the loud winds, or with bemock’d-at stabs
Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish
One dowle 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;
Expos’d unto the sea, which hath requit it,
Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed
The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have
Incens’d 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 from—
Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls
Upon your heads,—is nothing but heart-sorrow,
And a clear life ensuing.

[He vanishes in thunder: then, to soft music, enter the Shapes again, and dance, with mocks and mows, and carry out the table.]

PROSPERO.
[Aside.] Bravely the figure of this Harpy hast thou
Perform’d, 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
Their several kinds have done. My high charms work,
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 drown’d,—
And his and mine lov’d darling.

[Exit above.]

GONZALO.
I’ the name of something holy, sir, why stand you
In this strange stare?

ALONSO.
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, pronounc’d
The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.
Therefore my son i’ th’ ooze is bedded; and
I’ll seek him deeper than e’er plummet sounded,
And with him there lie mudded.

[Exit.]

SEBASTIAN.
But one fiend at a time,
I’ll fight their legions o’er.

ANTONIO.
I’ll be thy second.

[Exeunt Sebastian and Antonio.]

GONZALO.
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.

ADRIAN.
Follow, I pray you.

[Exeunt.]

ACT IV

SCENE I. Before Prospero’s cell.

Enter Prospero, Ferdinand and Miranda.

PROSPERO.
If I have too austerely punish’d 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 her off,
For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise,
And make it halt behind her.

FERDINAND.
I do believe it
Against an oracle.

PROSPERO.
Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition
Worthily purchas’d, take my daughter: but
If thou dost break her virgin knot before
All sanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy rite be minister’d,
No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall
To make this contract grow; but barren hate,
Sour-ey’d disdain, and discord shall bestrew
The union of your bed with weeds so loathly
That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed,
As Hymen’s lamps shall light you.

FERDINAND.
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 honour into lust, to take away
The edge of that day’s celebration,
When I shall think, or Phoebus’ steeds are founder’d,
Or Night kept chain’d below.

PROSPERO.
Fairly spoke:
Sit, then, and talk with her, she is thine own.
What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!

Enter Ariel.

ARIEL.
What would my potent master? here I am.

PROSPERO.
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.

ARIEL.
Presently?

PROSPERO.
Ay, with a twink.

ARIEL.
Before you can say “Come” and “Go,”
And breathe twice, and cry “so, so,”
Each one, tripping on his toe,
Will be here with mop and mow.
Do you love me, master? no?

PROSPERO.
Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach
Till thou dost hear me call.

ARIEL.
Well, I conceive.

[Exit.]

PROSPERO.
Look thou be true; do not give dalliance
Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw
To th’ fire i’ the blood: be more abstemious,
Or else good night your vow!

FERDINAND.
I warrant you, sir;
The white cold virgin snow upon my heart
Abates the ardour of my liver.

PROSPERO.
Well.
Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary,
Rather than want a spirit: appear, and pertly.
No tongue! all eyes! be silent.

[Soft music.]

A Masque. Enter Iris.

IRIS.
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 thatch’d with stover, them to keep;
Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims,
Which spongy April at thy hest betrims,
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves,
Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,
Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt 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,
To come and sport; her peacocks fly amain:
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.

Enter Ceres.

CERES.
Hail, many-colour’d 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 unshrubb’d down,
Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy queen
Summon’d me hither to this short-grass’d green?

IRIS.
A contract of true love to celebrate,
And some donation freely to estate
On the blest lovers.

CERES.
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 scandal’d company
I have forsworn.

IRIS.
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 done
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 return’d again;
Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,
Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows,
And be a boy right out.

CERES.
Highest queen of State,
Great Juno comes; I know her by her gait.

Enter Juno.

JUNO.
How does my bounteous sister? Go with me
To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be,
And honour’d in their issue.

[They sing.]

JUNO.
Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,
Long continuance, and increasing,
Hourly joys be still upon you!
Juno sings her blessings on you.

CERES.
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.

FERDINAND.
This is a most majestic vision, and
Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold
To think these spirits?

PROSPERO.
Spirits, which by mine art
I have from their confines call’d to enact
My present fancies.

FERDINAND.
Let me live here ever.
So rare a wonder’d father and a wise,
Makes this place Paradise.

[Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment.]

PROSPERO.
Sweet now, silence!
Juno and Ceres whisper seriously,
There’s something else to do: hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marr’d.

IRIS.
You nymphs, call’d Naiads, of the windring brooks,
With your sedg’d 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 sun-burn’d 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; after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused noise, they heavily vanish.

PROSPERO.
[Aside.] I had forgot that foul conspiracy
Of the beast Caliban and his confederates
Against my life: the minute of their plot
Is almost come. [To the Spirits.] Well done! avoid; no
more!

FERDINAND.
This is strange: your father’s in some passion
That works him strongly.

MIRANDA.
Never till this day
Saw I him touch’d with anger so distemper’d.

PROSPERO.
You do look, my son, in a mov’d sort,
As if you were dismay’d: be cheerful, sir:
Our 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-capp’d 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 vex’d:
Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled.
Be not disturb’d with my infirmity.
If you be pleas’d, retire into my cell
And there repose: a turn or two I’ll walk,
To still my beating mind.

FERDINAND, MIRANDA.
We wish your peace.

[Exeunt.]

PROSPERO.
Come, with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel. Come!

Enter Ariel.

ARIEL.
Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?

PROSPERO.
Spirit,
We must prepare to meet with Caliban.

ARIEL.
Ay, my commander. When I presented Ceres,
I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear’d
Lest I might anger thee.

PROSPERO.
Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?

ARIEL.
I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;
So full of valour that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces; beat the ground
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor;
At which, like unback’d colts, they prick’d their ears,
Advanc’d their eyelids, lifted up their noses
As they smelt music: so I charm’d their ears,
That calf-like they my lowing follow’d through
Tooth’d briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns,
Which enter’d 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.

PROSPERO.
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.

ARIEL.
I go, I go.

[Exit.]

PROSPERO.
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.

Re-enter Ariel, loaden with glistering apparel, &c.

Come, hang them on this line.

Prospero and Ariel remain invisible. Enter Caliban, Stephano and Trinculo all wet.

CALIBAN.
Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not
Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell.

STEPHANO.
Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, has done little better than played the Jack with us.

TRINCULO.
Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at which my nose is in great indignation.

STEPHANO.
So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take a displeasure against you, look you,—

TRINCULO.
Thou wert but a lost monster.

CALIBAN.
Good my lord, give me thy favour still.
Be patient, for the prize I’ll bring thee to
Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly.
All’s hush’d as midnight yet.

TRINCULO.
Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool!

STEPHANO.
There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, monster, but an infinite loss.

TRINCULO.
That’s more to me than my wetting: yet this is your harmless fairy, monster.

STEPHANO.
I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er ears for my labour.

CALIBAN.
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 for ever, and I, thy Caliban,
For aye thy foot-licker.

STEPHANO.
Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts.

TRINCULO.
O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano!
Look what a wardrobe here is for thee!

CALIBAN.
Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.

TRINCULO.
O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery. O King Stephano!

STEPHANO.
Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I’ll have that gown.

TRINCULO.
Thy Grace shall have it.

CALIBAN.
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.

STEPHANO.
Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair, and prove a bald jerkin.

TRINCULO.
Do, do: we steal by line and level, an’t like your Grace.

STEPHANO.
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.

TRINCULO.
Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and away with the rest.

CALIBAN.
I will have none on’t. We shall lose our time,
And all be turn’d to barnacles, or to apes
With foreheads villainous low.

STEPHANO.
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.

TRINCULO.
And this.

STEPHANO.
Ay, and this.

A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of dogs and hounds, and hunt them about; Prospero and Ariel setting them on.

PROSPERO.
Hey, Mountain, hey!

ARIEL.
Silver! there it goes, Silver!

PROSPERO.
Fury, Fury! There, Tyrant, there! hark, hark!

[Caliban, Stephano and Trinculo are driven out.]

Go, charge my goblins that they grind their joints
With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews
With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them
Than pard, or cat o’ mountain.

ARIEL.
Hark, they roar.

PROSPERO.
Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour
Lies at my mercy all mine enemies.
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
Shalt have the air at freedom. For a little
Follow, and do me service.

[Exeunt.]