Page images
PDF
EPUB

And that you will some good instruction give,
How I may bear me here: My prime request,
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
If you be maid, or no?

Mira. No, wonder, sir;
But, certainly a maid.

Fer. 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 Milan, And his brave son, being twain.

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 ungentlý? 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. Soft, sir; one word more-
They are both in either's powers; but this swift business
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning (Aside.
Make the prize light.-One word more; 1 charge thee
That thou attend me: thoa dost here usurp
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.

Fer. 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, Good things will strive to dwell with't. Pro. Follow me.

[To Ferdinand. Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come. I'll manacle thy neck and feet together :

?

Sea-water shalt thon 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 tutorkPut 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 disarın 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. Come on; obey :

[To Ferd.
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 faiber's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats,
To whom I am subdu'd, 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 I, in such a prison.

Pró. It works:--Come on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel !- Follow me.-

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

Mira. Be of comfort;
My father's of a better natore, sir,

с

[ocr errors]

[To Aricl.

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.
Ari. To the syllable.
Pro. Come, follow : speak not for him. [Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I. Another Part of the Island. Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GON

ZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and 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.

Alon. 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.
Gon. Sir,
Seb. One :--Tell.

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer

Seb. A dollar.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you purpos'd.

Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you shonld.

Gon. Therefore, my lord, Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue ! Alon. I prythee, spare. Gon. Well, I have done : But yetSeb. He will be talking: Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow 3

1

Seb. The old cock.
Ant. The cockrel.
Seb. Done: The wager?
Ant. A laughter.
Seb. A match.
Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,--
Seb. Ha, ha, ha!
Ant. So you've pay'd.
Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,
Seb. 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. Ay, and a subtle; as be 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 perfum'd 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 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, drench'd in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses; being rather new dyed, than stain'd with salt water.

Ant. If but one of bis 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 Afric, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis.

Seb. 'I'was 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'tbat! 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 yon, 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 seem now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis at the 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. 0, 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.
Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage ?

Alon. Yon cram these words into mine ears, against
The stomach of my sense: 'Would I had never
Marry'd 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. O thoa, 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 The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head Bove the contentions 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 not doubt, He came alive to land.

Alon. No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss; That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,

« PreviousContinue »