Miranda

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 the 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,

Dashed all to pieces. O, the cry did knock

Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perished.

Had I been any god of power, I would

Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere

It should the good ship so have swallowed and

The fraughting souls within her.

Prospero

Be collected:

No more amazement: tell your piteous heart

There's no harm done.

Miranda

O, woe the day!

Prospero

No harm.

I have done nothing but in care of thee,

Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who

Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing

Of whence I am, nor that I am more better

Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,

And thy no greater father.

Miranda

More to know

Did never meddle with my thoughts.

Prospero

'Tis time

I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,

And pluck my magic garment from me. So: Lays down his mantle.

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

The direful spectacle of the wrack, which touched

The very virtue of compassion in thee,

I have with such provision in mine art

So safely ordered that there is no soul —

No, not so much perdition as an hair

Betid to any creature in the vessel

Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down;

For thou must now know farther.

Miranda

You have often

Begun to tell me what I am, but stopped

And left me to a bootless inquisition,

Concluding “Stay: not yet.”

Prospero

The hour's now come;

The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;

Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember

A time before we came unto this cell?

I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not

Out three years old.

Miranda

Certainly, sir, I can.

Prospero

By what? by any other house or person?

Of any thing the image tell me that

Hath kept with thy remembrance.

Miranda

'Tis far off

And rather like a dream than an assurance

That my remembrance warrants. Had I not

Four or five women once that tended me?

Prospero

Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it

That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else

In the dark backward and abysm of time?

If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here,

How thou camest here thou mayst.

Miranda

But that I do not.

Prospero

Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,

Thy father was the Duke of Milan and

A prince of power.

Miranda

Sir, are not you my father?

Prospero

Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and

She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father

Was Duke of Milan; and his only heir

And princess no worse issued.

Miranda

O the heavens!

What foul play had we, that we came from thence?

Or blessed was't we did?

Prospero

Both, both, my girl:

By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence,

But blessedly holp hither.

Miranda

O, my heart bleeds

To think o' the teen that I have turned you to,

Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.

Prospero

My brother and thy uncle, called Antonio —

I pray thee, mark me — that a brother should

Be so perfidious! — he whom next thyself

Of all the world I loved and to him put

The manage of my state; as at that time

Through all the signories it was the first

And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed

In dignity, and for the liberal arts

Without a parallel; those being all my study,

The government I cast upon my brother

And to my state grew stranger, being transported

And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle —

Dost thou attend me?

Miranda

Sir, most heedfully.

Prospero

Being once perfected how to grant suits,

How to deny them, who to advance and who

To trash for overtopping, new created

The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,

Or else new formed 'em; having both the key

Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state

To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was

The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,

And sucked my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not.

Miranda

O, good sir, I do.

Prospero

I pray thee, mark me.

I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated

To closeness and the bettering of my mind

With that which, but by being so retired,

o'erprized all popular rate, in my false brother

Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,

Like a good parent, did beget of him

A falsehood in its contrary as great

As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,

A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,

Not only with what my revenue yielded,

But what my power might else exact, like one

Who having into 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' the substitution,

And executing the outward face of royalty,

With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing —

Dost thou hear?

Miranda

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

Prospero

To have no screen between this part he played

And him he played 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' the King of Naples

To give him annual tribute, do him homage,

Subject his coronet to his crown and bend

The dukedom yet unbowed — alas, poor Milan! —

To most ignoble stooping.

Miranda

O the heavens!

Prospero

Mark his condition and the event; then tell me

If this might be a brother.

Miranda

I should sin

To think but nobly of my grandmother:

Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Prospero

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' the 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 the purpose did Antonio open

The gates of Milan, and, i' the dead of darkness,

The ministers for the purpose hurried thence

Me and thy crying self.

Miranda

Alack, for pity!

I, not remembering how I cried out then,

Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint

That wrings mine eyes to't.

Prospero

Hear a little further

And then I'll bring thee to the present business

Which now's upon's; without the which this story

Were most impertinent.

Miranda

Wherefore did they not

That hour destroy us?

Prospero

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 butt, not rigged,

Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats

Instinctively have quit it: there they hoist us,

To cry to the sea that roared to us, to sigh

To the winds whose pity, sighing back again,

Did us but loving wrong.

Miranda

Alack, what trouble

Was I then to you!

Prospero

O, a cherubin

Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile,

Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

When I have decked the sea with drops full salt,

Under my burden groaned; which raised in me

An undergoing stomach, to bear up

Against what should ensue.

Miranda

How came we ashore?

Prospero

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 loved my books, he furnished me

From mine own library with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom.

Miranda

Would I might

But ever see that man!

Prospero

Now I arise: Resumes his mantle.

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.

Here in this island we arrived; and here

Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit

Than other princess' can that have more time

For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.

Miranda

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?

Prospero

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 inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dullness,

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.

Ariel

All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come

To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

On the curled clouds, to thy strong bidding task

Ariel and all his quality.

Prospero

Hast thou, spirit,

Performed to point the tempest that I bade thee?

Ariel

To every article.

I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,

Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,

I flamed amazement: sometime I'ld divide,

And burn in many places; on the topmast,

The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,

Then meet and join. Jove's lightning, the precursors

O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary

And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks

Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune

Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,

Yea, his dread trident shake.

Prospero

My brave spirit!

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil

Would not infect his reason?

Ariel

Not a soul

But felt a fever of the mad and played

Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners

Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,

Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,

With hair up-staring, — then like reeds, not hair, —

Was the first man that leaped; cried, “Hell is empty,

And all the devils are here.”

Prospero

Why, that's my spirit!

But was not this nigh shore?

Ariel

Close by, my master,

Prospero

But are they, Ariel, safe?

Ariel

Not a hair perished;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,

But fresher than before: and, as thou bad'st me,

In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle.

The king's son have I landed by himself;

Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs

In an odd angle of the isle and sitting,

His arms in this sad knot.

Prospero

Of the king's ship

The mariners say how thou hast disposed

And all the rest o' the fleet.

Ariel

Safely in harbour

Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once

Thou calledst me up at midnight to fetch dew

From the still-vexed Bermoothes, there she's hid:

The mariners all under hatches stowed;

Who, with a charm joined to their suffered labour,

I have left asleep: and for the rest o' the fleet

Which I dispersed, they all have met again

And are upon the Mediterranean float,

Bound sadly home for Naples,

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wracked

And his great person perish.

Prospero

Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is performed: but there's more work.

What is the time o' the day?

Ariel

Past the mid season.

Prospero

At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now

Must by us both be spent most preciously.

Ariel

Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,

Let me remember thee what thou hast promised

Which is not yet performed me.

Prospero

How now? moody?

What is't thou canst demand?

Ariel

My liberty.

Prospero

Before the time be out? no more!

Ariel

I prithee,

Remember I have done thee worthy service;

Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served

Without or grudge or grumblings: thou did promise

To bate me a full year.

Prospero

Dost thou forget

From what a torment I did free thee?

Ariel

No.

Prospero

Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the ooze

Of the salt deep,

To run upon the sharp wind of the north,

To do me business in the veins o' the earth

When it is baked with frost.

Ariel

I do not, sir.

Prospero

Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot

The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy

Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

Ariel

No, sir.

Prospero

Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.

Ariel

Sir, in Argier.

Prospero

O, was she so? I must

Once in a month recount what thou hast been,

Which thou forget'st. This damned witch Sycorax,

For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible

To enter human hearing, from Argier,

Thou know'st, was banished: for one thing she did

They would not take her life. Is not this true?

Ariel

Ay, sir.

Prospero

This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child

And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,

As thou report'st thyself, was then her servant;

And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate

To act her earthy and abhorred commands,

Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,

By help of her more potent ministers

And in her most unmitigable rage,

Into a cloven pine; within which rift

Imprisoned thou didst painfully remain

A dozen years; within which space she died

And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans

As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island —

Save for the son that she did litter here,

A freckled whelp hag-born — not honoured with

A human shape.

Ariel

Yes, Caliban her son.

Prospero

Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban

Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st

What torment I did find thee in; thy groans

Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts

Of ever-angry bears: it was a torment

To lay upon the damned, which Sycorax

Could not again undo: it was mine art,

When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape

The pine and let thee out.

Ariel

I thank thee, master.

Prospero

If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak

And peg thee in his knotty entrails till

Thou hast howled away twelve winters.

Ariel

Pardon, master;

I will be correspondent to command

And do my spriting gently.

Prospero

Do so, and after two days

I will discharge thee.

Ariel

That's my noble master!

What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?

Prospero

Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea: be subject

To no sight but thine and mine, invisible

To every eyeball else. Go take this shape

And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence! Exit Ariel.

Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well,

Awake!

Miranda

The strangeness of your story put

Heaviness in me.

Prospero

Shake it off. Come on;

We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never

Yields us kind answer.

Miranda

'Tis a villain, sir,

I do not love to look on.

Prospero

But, as 'tis,

We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,

Fetch in our wood and serves in offices

That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!

Thou earth, thou! speak.

Caliban

Within

There's wood enough within.

Prospero

Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee:

Come, thou tortoise! when? Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph.

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

Hark in thine ear.

Ariel

My lord, it shall be done. Exit.

Prospero

Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself

Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! Enter CALIBAN.

Caliban

As wicked dew as e'er my mother brushed

With raven's feather from unwholesome fen

Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye

And blister you all o'er!

Prospero

For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,

Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins

Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,

All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinched

As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging

Than bees that made 'em.

Caliban

I must eat my dinner.

This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,

Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,

Thou strokedst me and made much of me, wouldst give me

Water with berries in't, and teach me how

To name the bigger light, and how the less,

That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee

And showed thee all the qualities o' the isle,

The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile:

Cursed be I that did so! All the charms

Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!

For I am all the subjects that you have,

Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me

In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me

The rest o' the island.

Prospero

Thou most lying slave,

Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,

Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee

In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate

The honour of my child.

Caliban

O ho, O ho! would't had been done!

Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else

This isle with Calibans.

Miranda

Abhorred slave,

Which any print of goodness wilt not take,

Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,

Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour

One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,

Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like

A thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes

With words that made them known. But thy vile race,

Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures

Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou

Deservedly confined into this rock

Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

Caliban

You taught me language; and my profit on't

Is, I know how to curse. The red-plague rid you

For learning me your language!

Prospero

Hag-seed, hence!

Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best,

To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?

If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly

What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps,

Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar

That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

Caliban

No, pray thee. Aside

I must obey: his art is of such power,

It would control my dam's god, Setebos,

And make a vassal of him.

Prospero

So, slave; hence!

Exit Caliban.

Ariel

Hark, hark! I hear

The strain of strutting chanticleer

Cry Cock-a-diddle-dow.

Ferdinand

Where should this music be? i' the air or the earth?

It sounds no more: and, sure it waits upon

Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank,

Weeping again the king my father's wrack,

This music crept by me upon the waters,

Allaying both their fury and my passion

With its sweet air: thence I have followed it,

Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone,

No, it begins again. ARIEL sings.

Ariel

Ariel

Hark! now I hear them, — Ding-dong, bell.

Ferdinand

The ditty does remember my drowned father.

This is no mortal business, nor no sound

That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.

Prospero

The fringed curtains of thine eye advance

And say what thou seest yond.

Miranda

What is't? a spirit?

Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,

it carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.

Prospero

No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses

As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest

Was in the wrack; and, but he's something stained

With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him

A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows

And strays about to find 'em.

Miranda

I might call him

A thing divine, for nothing natural

I ever saw so noble.

Prospero

Aside

It goes on, I see,

As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee

Within two days for this.

Ferdinand

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 maid or no?

Miranda

No wonder, sir;

But certainly a maid.

Ferdinand

My language! heavens!

I am the best of them that speak this speech,

Were I but where 'tis spoken.

Prospero

How? the best?

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

Ferdinand

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, never since at ebb, beheld

The king my father wracked.

Miranda

Alack, for mercy!

Ferdinand

Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan

And his brave son being twain.

Prospero

Aside

The Duke of Milan

And his more braver daughter could control thee,

If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight

They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,

I'll set thee free for this. To Fer. A word, good sir;

I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.

Miranda

Why speaks my father so ungently? This

Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first

That e'er I sighed for: pity move my father

To be inclined my way

Ferdinand

O, if a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you

The queen of Naples.

Prospero

Soft, sir! one word more. Aside

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

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

Make the prize light. To Fer. One word more; I charge thee

That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp

The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself

Upon this island as a spy, to win it

From me, the lord on't.

Ferdinand

No, as I am a man,

Miranda

There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:

If the ill spirit have so fair a house,

Good things will strive to dwell with't.

Prospero

Follow me.

Speak not you for him; 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 mussels, withered roots and husks

Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

Ferdinand

No;

I will resist such entertainment till

Mine enemy has more power. Draws, and is charmed from moving.

Miranda

O dear father,

Make not too rash a trial of him, for

He's gentle and not fearful.

Prospero

What? I say,

My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;

Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience

Is so possessed with guilt: come from thy ward.

For I can here disarm thee with this stick

And make thy weapon drop.

Miranda

Beseech you, father.

Prospero

Hence! hang not on my garments.

Miranda

Sir, have pity;

I'll be his surety.

Prospero

Silence! one word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!

An advocate for an impostor! hush!

Thou think'st there is 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.

Miranda

My affections

Are then most humble; I have no ambition

To see a goodlier man.

Prospero

Come on; obey:

Thy nerves are in their infancy again

And have no vigour in them.

Ferdinand

So they are;

My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.

My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,

The wrack of all my friends, nor 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 I in such a prison.

Prospero

Aside

It works. To Fer. Come on.

Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! To Fer.

Follow me. To Ari.

Hark what thou else shalt do me.

Miranda

Be of comfort;

My father's of a better nature, sir,

Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted

Which now came from him.

Prospero

Thou shalt be as free

As mountain winds: but then exactly do

All points of my command.

Ariel

To the syllable.

Prospero

Come, follow. Speak not for him. Exeunt.