The Tempest - Act 1 (Scene 2)

[Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA]

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, 

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 ere 

It should the good ship so have swallow'd 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 wreck, which touch'd 

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 stopp'd 

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 thou 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 turn'd you to, 

Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.

Prospero. My brother and thy uncle, call'd 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 over-topping, new created 

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

Or else new form'd '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 suck'd 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'er-prized 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 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' the 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.

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. 

The 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 boat, not rigg'd, 

Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats 

Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us, 

To cry to the sea that roar'd 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 cherubim 

Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile. 

Infused with a fortitude from heaven, 

When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, 

Under my burthen groan'd; 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, 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 furnish'd 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 princesses 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 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]

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 curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task 

Ariel and all his quality.

Prospero. Hast thou, spirit, 

Perform'd 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 lightnings, 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 play'd 

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 leap'd; 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 perish'd; 

On their sustaining garments not a blemish, 

But fresher than before: and, as thou badest 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 call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew 

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

The mariners all under hatches stow'd; 

Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd 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 flote, 

Bound sadly home for Naples, 

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd 

And his great person perish.

Prospero. Ariel, thy charge 

Exactly is perform'd: 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 perform'd 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 didst 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 damn'd witch Sycorax, 

For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible 

To enter human hearing, from Argier, 

Thou know'st, was banish'd: 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, wast then her servant; 

And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate 

To act her earthy and abhorr'd 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 

Imprison'd 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 honour'd 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 damn'd, 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 howl'd away twelve winters.

Ariel. Pardon, master; 

I will be correspondent to command 

And do my spiriting 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 brush'd 

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 pinch'd 

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 madest 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 show'd 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 endow'd 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] 

[Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing;] 

FERDINAND following] 

ARIEL'S song. 

Come unto these yellow sands, 

And then take hands: 

Courtsied when you have and kiss'd 

The wild waves whist, 

Foot it featly here and there; 

And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. 

Hark, hark! 

[Burthen [dispersedly, within] Bow-wow] 

The watch-dogs bark! 

[Burthen Bow-wow] 

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 wreck, 

This music crept by me upon the waters, 

Allaying both their fury and my passion 

With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, 

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 

[Burthen Ding-dong] 

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

Ferdinand. 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.

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 wreck; and, but he's something stain'd 

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 wreck'd.

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 FERDINAND] 

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 sigh'd 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 FERDINAND] 

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 muscles, wither'd 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 possess'd 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 imposter! 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 wreck 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 FERDINAND] 

Come on. 

Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! 

[To FERDINAND] 

Follow me. 

[To ARIEL] 

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 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]

[Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA]

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, 

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 ere 

It should the good ship so have swallow'd 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 wreck, which touch'd 

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 stopp'd 

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 thou 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 turn'd you to, 

Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.

Prospero. My brother and thy uncle, call'd 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 over-topping, new created 

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

Or else new form'd '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 suck'd 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'er-prized 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 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' the 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.

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. 

The 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 boat, not rigg'd, 

Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats 

Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us, 

To cry to the sea that roar'd 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 cherubim 

Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile. 

Infused with a fortitude from heaven, 

When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, 

Under my burthen groan'd; 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, 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 furnish'd 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 princesses 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 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]

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 curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task 

Ariel and all his quality.

Prospero. Hast thou, spirit, 

Perform'd 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 lightnings, 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 play'd 

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 leap'd; 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 perish'd; 

On their sustaining garments not a blemish, 

But fresher than before: and, as thou badest 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 call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew 

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

The mariners all under hatches stow'd; 

Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd 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 flote, 

Bound sadly home for Naples, 

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd 

And his great person perish.

Prospero. Ariel, thy charge 

Exactly is perform'd: 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 perform'd 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 didst 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 damn'd witch Sycorax, 

For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible 

To enter human hearing, from Argier, 

Thou know'st, was banish'd: 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, wast then her servant; 

And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate 

To act her earthy and abhorr'd 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 

Imprison'd 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 honour'd 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 damn'd, 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 howl'd away twelve winters.

Ariel. Pardon, master; 

I will be correspondent to command 

And do my spiriting 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 brush'd 

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 pinch'd 

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 madest 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 show'd 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 endow'd 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] 

[Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing;] 

FERDINAND following] 

ARIEL'S song. 

Come unto these yellow sands, 

And then take hands: 

Courtsied when you have and kiss'd 

The wild waves whist, 

Foot it featly here and there; 

And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. 

Hark, hark! 

[Burthen [dispersedly, within] Bow-wow] 

The watch-dogs bark! 

[Burthen Bow-wow] 

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 wreck, 

This music crept by me upon the waters, 

Allaying both their fury and my passion 

With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, 

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 

[Burthen Ding-dong] 

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

Ferdinand. 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.

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 wreck; and, but he's something stain'd 

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 wreck'd.

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 FERDINAND] 

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 sigh'd 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 FERDINAND] 

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 muscles, wither'd 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 possess'd 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 imposter! 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 wreck 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 FERDINAND] 

Come on. 

Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! 

[To FERDINAND] 

Follow me. 

[To ARIEL] 

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 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]