ALONSO, King of Naples.

SEBASTIAN, his Brother.

PROSPERO, the rightful Duke of Milan.

Milan.

CALIBAN, a savage and deformed Slave.

TRINCULO, a Jester.

ARIEL, an airy Spirit.

IRIS,

CERES,

JUNO,

Nymphs,

Reapers,

}

Spirits.

Boats. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare. Take in the top-sail; tend to th' Master's whistle.-Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough!

Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO, and Others.

Alon. Good Boatswain, have care. Where's the Master? Play the men.

Boats. I pray now, keep below.
Ant. Where is the Master, Boson?

Boats. Do you not hear him? You mar our labour. Keep your cabins; you do assist the storm. Gon. Nay, good, be patient.

Boats. When the sea is. Hence! these roarers for the name of king? silence! trouble us not.

What care To cabin: [aboard.

Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast Boats. None that I more love than myself. You are a Counsellor: 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 liv'd 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! [Exit.

Gon. 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 hang'd, our case is miserable. [Exeunt.

Enter Boatswain.

Boats. Down with the top-mast: yare; lower, lower. Bring her to: try wi' th' main-course. [A cry within.] 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?

Seb. A plague o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!

Boats. Work you, then.

Ant. Hang, cur, hang! You insolent noisemaker, we are less afraid to be drown'd than thou art.

Gon. I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell. Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold! Set her two courses. Off to sea again: lay her off.

The Island: before the cell of Prospero.
Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA.

Mira. 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, Dash'd all to pieces. O! the cry did knock Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd. Had I been any god of power, I would

Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er

To think o' th' teen that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther. [nio,Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, called AntoI pray thee, mark me, that a brother should Be so perfidious!-he whom, next thyself,

The fraughting souls within her. Pro.

Be collected:

The manage of my State; as, at that time, Through all the signiories it was the first,

There's no harm done.

In dignity) and, for the liberal arts,
Without a parallel: those being all my study,
The government I east upon my brother,
And to my State grew stranger, being transported,
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle-
Dost thou attend me?
Mira.

Sir, most heedfully.

Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, whom to advance, and whom To trash for over-topping, new created ['em, The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd Or else new form'd 'em: having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts i' th' State To what tune pleas'd his ear, that now he was The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk, [not. And suck'd my verdure out on't.-Thou attend'st Mira. O good sir: I do. Pro.

Lie there, my art.-Wipe thou thine eyes; have

comfort.

The direful spectacle of the wrack, which touch'd

I pray thee, mark me.

The very virtue of compassion in thee,

I have with such provision in mine art

So safely order'd, that there is no soul

No, not so much perdition as an hair,

I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate
To closeness, and the bettering of my mind
With that, which but by being so retir'd
O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother

Betid to any creature in the vessel

Awak'd an eyil nature; and my trust,

Sit down;

A falsehood, in its contrary as great

For thou must now know farther. Mira.

As my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit,

Not only with what my revenue yielded,

But what my power might else exact, -like one,
Who having, unto 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?

Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
Pro. To have no screen between this part he

play'd,

And him he play'd it for, he needs will be
Absolute 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 unbow'd, (alas, poor Milan !)
To most ignoble stooping.

Mira.

O the heavens! [tell me,

Pro. Mark his condition, and th' event; then If this might be a brother.

Mira.

I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother.
Pro.
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 honours, 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 thenee
Me, and thy crying self.

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 colours 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 boat, not rigg'd,
-Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,
To cry to th' sea that roar'd to us, to sigh
To th' winds, whose pity, sighing back again,

O' th' dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And sight-outrunning were not the fire, and cracks

Did us but loving wrong.

Mira.

Was I then to you!

Pro.

Alack! what trouble

O! a cherubin [smile, Thou wast, that did preserve me. Thou didst Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Under my burthen groan'd; which rais'd in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up

Against what should ensue.

Mira.

How came we ashore?

Pro. 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

gentleness,

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me, From mine own library, with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom.

Mira.

But ever see that man! Pro.

Would I might

Now I arise :

[Puts on his robe.

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this island we arriv'd; 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,

Mira. 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?

Pro.

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 inclin'd to sleep: 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way:-I know thou canst not choose.
[MIRANDA sleeps.

Come away, servant, come! I am ready now:
Approach, my Ariel: come!

Enter ARIEL.

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
Would not infect his reason?
Ari.

Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation. All, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the
vessel,

Then all a-fire with me: the King's son, Ferdinand,

With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair) Was the first man that leap'd.

I come

Ari.

My liberty.