Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare
SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.
SCENE II.—The Island; before the Cell of
Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing and singing;
FERDINAND following him.
Come unto these yellow sands.
And then take hands:
Court’sied when you have, and kiss’d.
(The wild waves whist,)
Foot it featly here and there;
And sweet sprites, the burden bear.
Bur, Bowgh, wowgh, Dispersedly.
The watch-dogs bark:
Bur, Bowgh, wowgh, Dispersedly.
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticlere
Fer. Where should this music be? i’ the air,
or the earth?
It sounds no more:—and sure it waits upon
Some god of the island Sitting on a bank
Weeping again the king my father’s wrec,
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.
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his yes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change.
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong bell.
Fer. The ditty does remember my drown’d
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes:—I hear it now above me.
Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And say, what thou seest yong’.
Mira. What is ‘t? a spirit?
Lord, how it looks about Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form:—But ’tis a spirit.
Pro. No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath
such senses [seest,
As we have, such: This gallant, which thou
Was in the wreck: and but he’s something
stain’d [call him
With grief, that’s beauty’s canker, thou might’st
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,
And strays about to find them.
Mira. I might call him’
A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.
Pro. It goes on, [Aside.
As my soul prompts it:—Spirit, fine spirit I’ll
Within two days for this.
Fer. Most sure the goddess
On whom these airs attend!—Vouchsafe, my
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?
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 Napes;
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
And his brave son, being twain. [Milan,
Pro. The Duke of Milan.
And his more braver daughter, could control
If now ’twere fit to do’t:—At the first sight
They have changed eyes:—Delicate Ariel,
I’ll set thee free for this!—A word, good sir;
I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a
Mira. Why speaks my father so urgently?
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!
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
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Aside.
Make the prize light.—One word more; I charge
That thou attend e: thou 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 aman
Mira. There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a
If the ill spirit have so fair an house, [temple:
Good things will strive to dwell with ‘t.
Pro. Follow me.—
(On 7/24/14 - We will continue with “The Tempest“)