Archives For William Shakespeare

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest



SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.


SCENE II. (cont’d)—Another part of the Island.

This is a scurvy tune too: But here’s my comfort.

Cal. Do not torment me: Oh!                 [Drinks.

Ste. What’s the matter? Have we devils

here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages,

and men of Inde? Ha! I have not ‘scaped

drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs;

for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever

went on four legs cannot make him give

ground: and it shall be said so again, while

Stephano breathes at nostrils.

Cal. The spirit torments me: Oh!

Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with

four legs: who hath got, as I take it, an argue:

Where the devil should he learn our language?

I will give him some relief, if it be but for that:

If I can recover him, an keep him tame, and

get to Naples with him, he’s a present for any

emperor that ever trod on neat’s leather.

Cal. Do not torment me, pr’ythee;

I’ll bring my wood home faster.

Ste. He’s in his fit new; and does not talk

after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle:

if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go

near to remove his fit. If I can recover him,

and keep him tame, I will not take too much

for him: he shall pay for him that hath him,

and that soundly.                              [wilt

Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou

Anon; I know it by thy trembling;

Now Prosper works upon thee.

Ste. Comeon your ways’ open your mouth:

here is that which will give language to you,

cat; open your mouth: this will shake your shak-

ing, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot

tell who’s your friend: open your chaps again.

Trin. I should know that voice: It should

be—But he is drowned; and these are devils:

Oh! defend me!—

Ste. Four legs and two voices; a most delicate

monster! His forward voice now is to speak

well of his friend; his backward voice is to

utter foul speeches, and to detract. If all the

wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help

his argue: Come—Amen! I will pour some in

thy other mouth.

Trin. Stephano,—

Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Merry,

mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will

leave him; I have no long spoon.

Trin. Stephano!—if thou beest Stephano,

touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinulo;

—be not afeard,—thy good friend Trinculo.

Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth; I’ll

pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo’s

legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo

indeed. How cam’st thou to  be the siege of this

moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos?

Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunder-

stroke:—But art thou not drowned. Is the

I hope, now, thou art not drowned, Sephano?

storm over-blown? I hid me under the dead

moon-calf’s gaberdine for fear of the storm.

And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano,

two Neapolitans ‘scaped!

Ste. Pr’ythee, do not turn me about; my

stomach is not constant.            [sprites,

Cal. These be fine things, and if they be not

That’s a brave god, and bears celestial liquor:

I will kneel to him

Ste. How didst thou ‘scape? how cam’st

thou hither? swear by this bottle, how thou

cam’st hither I escaped pon a butt of sack,

which the sailors heaved overboard, by this

bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree,

with mine own hands, since I was cast ashore.

Cal. I’ll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy

True subject; for the liquor is not earthly.

Ste. Here, kiss the book: Though thou canst

swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose.

Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this?

Ste. The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a

rock by the sea-side, where my wine is hid.

How now, moon-calf? how does thine argue?

Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven?

Ste. Out o’ the moon, I do assure thee: I

was the an i’ the moon, when time was.

Cal. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore


My mistress show me thee, and thy dog and


(On 8/01/14 – We will continue with “The Tempest)

The TempestWhe

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest



SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.


SCENE I.— Another part of the Island.

         Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible.

Ari. My master through his art foresees the

danger                           [forth,—

That these his friends, are in; and sends me

For else his project dies,—to keep the living.

[Sings in GONZALO’s ear.

While you here do snoring lie,

Open-eyed conspiracy

His time doth take:

If of life you keep a care,

Shake off slumber, and beware:

Awake! Awake!

Ant. Then let us both be sudden.

Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king!

[They awake.

Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are

you drawn?

Wherefore this ghastly looking?

Gon.                                What’s the matter?

Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,


Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing

Like bulls or rather lions; did it not wake you?

It struck mine ear most terribly.

Alon.                                  I heard nothing.

Ant. O, ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear;

To make an earthquake! sure it was the roar

Of a whole herd of lions.

Alon.                      Heard you this, Gonzalo?

Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a hum-

ming.                                   [me:

And that a strange one too, which did awak

I shaked you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes open’d,

I saw their weapons drawn:—there was a noise,

Thats verity: Best stand upon our guard:

Or that we quit this place: let’s draw our

weapons.               [further search

Alon. Lead off this ground; and let’s make

For my poor son.

Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts!

For he is, sure, i’ the island.

Alon.                                 Lead away.

Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have

done:                                  [Aside.

So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—Another part of the Island.

Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood.

A noise of thunder heard.

Co.. All the infections that the sun sucks up

From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and

make him

By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,

And yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor

pinch,                                  [mire,

Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i’ the

Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark

Out of my way, unless he bid them; but

For every trifle they are set upon me:

Sometime like apes, that moe and chatter at me,

And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which

Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount

Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometimes am I

All wound with adders, who, with cloven


Do hiss me into madness:—Lo! now! lo!


Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me,

For bringing wood in slowly: I’ll fall flat;

Perchance he will not mind me.

Trin. Here’s neither bush nor shrub, to bear

off any weather at all, and another storm brew-

ing; I hear it sing i’ the wind; yond same black

cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bumbard

that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder,

as it did before, I know not where to hid my

head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall

by pailfuls.—What have we here? a man or a

fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish:

a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of,

not of the newest, Poor-John. A strange fish!

Were I in England now (as once I was), and

had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool

there but would give a piece of silver: there

would this monster make a man; any strange

beast there makes a man: when they will not

give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will

lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg’d like

a man I and his fins like arms! Warm, o’ my

troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it

no longer; this is no fish, but an islander, that

hath lately suffered by a thunder-bolt. [Thun-

der] Alas! the storm is come again: my best

way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no

other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a

man with strange bedfellows. I will here

shroud. till the dregs of the storm be past.

Enter STEPHANO singing, a bottle in his hand.

Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea,

Here shall I die ashore;—

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s

funeral: Well, here’s my comfort.     [Drinks.

The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,

The gunner, and his mate,

Lov’d Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,

But none of us car’d for Kate:

For she had a tongue with a tang,

Would cry to a sailor, Go, hang;

She lov’d not the savour of tar nor of pitch,

Yet a tailor might scratch her where’er she did itch:

Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.


(On 7/31/14 – We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest



SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.


SCENE I.— Another part of the Island.

Seb.                                   Pr’ythee, say on:

The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim

A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,

Which throes thee much to yield.

Ant.                                          Thus, sir:

Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,

Who shall be of as little memory

When he is earth’d, hath here almost persuaded

(For he’s a spirit of persuasion only)

The king, his son’s alive: ’tis as impossible

That he’s undrown’d as he that sleeps here

Seb. I have no hope                        [swims.

That he’s undrown’d.

Ant.                       O, out of that no hope,

What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is

Another way so high an hope, that even

Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

But doubts discovery there. Will you grant,

with me,

That Ferdinand is drown’d?

Seb.                                He’s gone.

Ant.                                      Then, tell me,

Who’s the next heir of Naples?

Seb.                                     Claribel.

Ant. She that is queen of Tunis: she that dwells

Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that form


Can have no note, unless the sun were post

(The man i’ the moon’s too slow,) till new-born

Be rough and razorable; she, from whom [chins

We were all sea-swallow’d, though some cast


And, by that, destined to perform an act,

Whereof what’s past is prologue; what to come,

In yours and my discharge.

Serb.        What stuff is this?—How say you?

‘Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s queen of Tunis:

So is she heir of Naples; ‘twixt which regions

There is some space.

Ant.                        A space whose every cubit

Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel

Measure us back to Naples?—Keep in Tunis,

And let Sebastian wake!—Say, this were death

That now hath seized them; why, they were no


Than now they are: There be, that can rule


As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate

As this Gonzalo; I myself could make

A cough of as deep chat. O, that you bore

The mind that I do! what a sleep were this

For your advancement! Do you understand me?

Seb. Methinks, I do.

And.                      And how does your content

Tender your own good fortune?

Seb.                                          I remember,

You did supplant your brother Prospero.

Ant.                                                   True:

And, look, how well my garments sit upon me;

Much feather than before: my brother’s servants

Where then my fellows, now they are my men.

Seb.  But, for your conscience—

Ant.  Ay, sir; where lies that? if i were a kybe,

‘Twould put me to my slipper: But I feel not

This deity in my bosom; twenty consciences,

That stand ‘twixt me and Milan, candied be

they,                               [brother,

And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your

No better than the earth he lies upon,

If he were that which now he’s like: whom I,

With this obedient steel, three inches of it,

Can lay to bed for ever: whiles you, doing thus

To the perpetual wink for aye might put

This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who

Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,

They’ll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk;

They’ll tell the clock to any business that

We say befits the hour.

Seb.                           Thy case , dear friend,

Shall be my precedent; as thou gott’st Milan,

I’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one

stroke                             [pay’st;

Shall free thee from the tribute which thou

And I the king shall love thee.

Ant.                                     Draw together:

And when I rear my hand, do you the like,

To fall it on Gonzalo.

Seb.                         O, but one word.

[They converse apart.

(On 7/30/14 – We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest



SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.


SCENE I.— Another part of the Island.

Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music.

Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.

Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

Gon. No., I warrant you; I will not adventure

my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me

asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

[All sleep but ALON. SEB. and ANT.

Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine

eyes                                  [I find

Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts:

They are inclined to do so.

Seb.                                   Pleas you, sir,

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:

It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,

It is a comforter.

Ant.                       We two, my lord,

Will guard your person, while you take your

And watch your safety.                       [rest,

Alon.             Thank you: wondrous heavy.—

[ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL.

Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses


Ant. It is the quality o’ the climate.

Seb.                                          Why

Doth it not then our eyelids sink! I find not

Myself disposed to sleep.

Ant.                    Nor I; my spirits are nimble

They fell together all, as by consent;

They dropp’d, as by a thunder-stroke. What

might,                             [more:—

Worthy Sebastian?—O, what might?—No

And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,

What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks

thee; and

My strong imagination sees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.

Seb.                        What, art thou waking?

Ant.. Do you not hear me speak?

Seb.                                    I do; and, surely,

It is a sleepy language; and thou speak’st

Out of thy sleep: What is it thou didst say?

This is a strange repose, to be asleep    [ing,

With eyes wide open, standing, speaking, mov-

And yet so fast asleep.

Ant.                       Noble Sebastian,   [wink’st

Thou lett’st thy fortune sleep—die rather;

Whiles thou art waking.

Seb.                     Thou dost snore distinctly;

There’s meaning in thy snores.

Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you

Must be so too, if heed me; which to do

Trebles thee o’er.

Seb.                    Well, I am standing water.

Ant. I’ll teach you how to flow.

Seb.                                        Do so: to ebb,

Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Ant.                                        O,

If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish,

Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,

You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,

Most often do so near the bottom run,

By their own fear, or sloth.

(On 7/29/14 – We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest



SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.


SCENE I.— Another part of the Island.



By all of us; and the fair soul herself

Weigh’d, between lothness and obedience, at

Which end o’ the beam she’d bow. We have

lost your son,

I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have

More windows in them of this business’ making,

Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault’s

Your own.

Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.

Gon.                                  My lord Sebastian,

The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,

And tie to speak it in; you rub the sore,

When you should bring the plaster.

Seb.                                            Very well.

Ant.  And most chirurgeonly.

Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,

When you are cloudy.

Seb.                         Foul weather?

Ant.                                               Very foul.

Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,—

Ant. He’d sow it with nettle-seed.

Seb.                           Or docks, or mallows

Gon. And were the king of it, what would I do?

Seb.  ‘Scape being drunk, for want of wine.

Gon. I’ the commonwealth, I would by con-


Execute all things: for no kind of traffic

Would I admit; no name of magistrate;

Letters should not be known; no use of service,

Of riches, or of poverty; no contracts,

Successions; bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none:

No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil:

No occupation; all me idle, all;

And women too; but innocent and pure:

No sovereignty:—

Seb.              And yet he would be king on ‘t.

Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth for-

gets the beginning.                 [duce

Gon. All things in common nature should pro-

Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,

Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,

Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,

Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,

To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying ‘mong his subjects?

Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.

Gon. I would with such perfection govern sir.

To excel the golden age.

Seb.                            Save his majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo!

Gon.                 And, do you mark me, sir?—

Alon. Pr’ythee, no more: thou dost talk noth-

ing to me.

Gon. I do well believe your highness; and

did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen,

who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that

they always use to laugh at nothing.

Ant. ‘Twas you we laugh’d at.

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am

nothing to you: so you may continue, and

laugh at nothing still.

Ant. What a blow was there given!

Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.

Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you

would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she

would continue in it five weeks without changing.

(On 7/28/14 – We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest



SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.


SCENE I.— Another part of the Island.



Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have

(So have we all) of joy; for our escape [cause        

Is common; every day, some sailor’s wife,

The masters of some merchant, and the mer-


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

By and by it will strike.                         [wit;

Gon. Sir,—

Seb. One:—Tell.                             [offer’d

Gon. When every grief is entertain’d, that’s

Comes to the entertainer—

Seb. A dollar.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have

spoken truer than you purposed.

Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant

you should.

Gon. Therefore, my lord,—

Ant. Fye, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

Alon. I pr’ythee spare.

Gon. Well, I have done: But yet—

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good

wager, first begins to crow?

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 paid.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,—

Seb. Yet,—

Adr. Yet,—

Ant. He could not miss it.

Ar. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and

delicate temperance.

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench

Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most

learnedly delivered.

Adr. The air breathes upon us here most

Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.

Ant. Or, as ’twere perfumed by a fen.

Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life.

Ant. True; save means to live.

Seb. Of that there’s none, or little.      [green!

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how

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,

drenched in the sea. hold, notwithstanding.

their freshness and glosses; being rather new

dyed, than stained with sale water.

Ant. If but one of his 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  .resh

as when we put them on first in Africk, at the

marriage of the king’s fair daughter Claribel to

the king of Tunis.

Seb. ‘Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper

well in our return.

Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such

a paragon to their queen.

Gon. Not since widow Dido’s time.

Ant. Widow? a pox o’ that! 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 you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous


Seb. He hath raised the wall, and houses too.

Ant. What impossible matter will he make

easy next?

Seb. I think he will carry his island home in

his pocket, an 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. O, 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


Alon. You cram these words into mine ears,


The stomach of my sense: Would I had never

Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,

My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,

Who is so far from Italy removed,

I ne’er again shall see her. I thou 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


‘Bove the contentious 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;                              [daughter,

That would not bless our Europe with your

But rather lose her to an African;

Where she, at least, is banish’d from you eye,

Who hath cause to wet the grief on ‘t.

Alon.                                     Pr’ythee, peace.

Seb. You were kneel’d to, and importun’d


(On 7/27/14 – We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest



SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.


SCENE II.—The Island; before the Cell of 


Speak not to 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


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 tutor! Put thy sword up, traitor;

For I can here disarm 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.


An advocate for an imposter? hush!

Thou  think’st there are no more such shapes

as he,                               [wench!

Having seen but him and Caliban: Foolish

To the ost 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 ream, are all bound up.

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

The wreck of all my friends, or this man’s


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.

Pro.                           It works:—Come on.—

Thou hast done well fine Ariel!—Follow me.—

[To FERD. and MIR.

Hark, what thou else shalt do me.   [To ARIEL.

Mira.                                        Be of comfort;

My father’s of a better nature, sir,

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.

(On 7/26/14 – We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest



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.

Hark, hark!

Bur, Bowgh, wowgh,                  Dispersedly.

The watch-dogs bark:

Bur, Bowgh, wowgh,                  Dispersedly.

Hark, hark! I hear

The strain of strutting chanticlere

Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo.

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.

ARIEL sings.

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:

Burden, ding-dong.

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

free thee

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

thee,                                  [Aside.

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)

The Tempest

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest



SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.


SCENE II.—The Island; before the Cell of 


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


Mira. The strangeness of your story put

Heaviness in me.

Pro.                  Shake it off; Come on;

We’ll visit Caliban, my slave who never

Yields us kind answer.

Mira.                          ‘Tis a villain, sir,

I do not love to look on.

Pro.                              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.

Cal. [Within] There’s wood enough within.

Pro. Come forth, I say; there’s other business

for thee:

Come forth, thou tortoise! when?

Re-enter ARIEL, like a water-nymph.

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel.,

Hark in thine ear.

Ari.              My lord, it shall be done.        Exit.

Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil


Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!


Cal. As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’d

With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen,

Drop on you both I a south-west blow on ye,

And blister you all o’er.

Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have


Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up;


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

All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch’d

As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more


Than bees that made them.

Cal.                                I must eat my dinner.

This island’s mine, by Sycorax my other,

Which thou tak’st from me. When thou camest


Thou stok’dst me, and mad’st 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 lov’d


And shew’d; thee all the qualities o’ the isle,

The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and


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 of the island.

Pro.                             Thou most lying slave,

Whom stripes may move, not kindness: I have


Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodged

In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate

The honour of my child.

Cal. O ho, O ho!—would it had been done!

Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else

This isle with Calibans.

Pro.                                Abhorred slave;

Which any print of goodness will not take,

Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,

Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee

each hour                            [savage,

One thing or other: when thou didst not,

Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble


A thing most brutish, I endow’d thy purposes

With words that made them known: But thy

vile race,                     [good natures]

Though thou didst learn, had that in’t which

Could not abide to be with: therefore was thou

Deservedly confined into this rock,

Who hadst deserved more than a prison

Cal. You taught me language; and my profit


Is, I know how to curse; the red plague rid you,

For learning me your language!

Pro.                                          Hag-seed, hence!

Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou wert best,

To answer other business. Shrug’st thou,


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.

Cal.                                       No, pray thee!—

I must obey: his art is of such power, [Aside.

It would control my dam’s god, Setebos,

Ar’d make a vassal of him.

Pro.                                  So, slave; hence!


(On 7/24/14 –  We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest




SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.


SCENE II.—The Island; before the Cell of 


Pro.                         Oh, was she so? I must,

Once in a month, recount what thou has been.

Which thou forget’st. This damn’d witch,


For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible

To enter human hearing, from Argier,

Thou know’st, was banished; for one thing she


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

Ari.  Ay, sir.

Pro. This blear-eyed hag was hither brought

with child,                              [slave,

And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my

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

Thour 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.

Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I


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.

Pro.                              Hast thou, spirit,

Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee?

Ari. 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: Sometimes, I’d divide,

And burn in many places; on the top-mast,

The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame dis


Then meet and join: Jove’s lightnings, the


O’the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary

And sight-out-running were not: The fire, and


Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune

Seem’d to besiege, and make his bold waves

Yea, his dread trident shake.            [trember,

Pro.                                        My brave spirit I

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 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

And all the devils are here!               [empty,

Pro.                                  Why, that’s my spirit!

But was not this nigh shore?

Ari.                                 Close by, my master.

Pro.  But are they, Ariel, safe?

Ari.                                    Not a hair perish’d;

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.

Pro.                                 Of the king’s ship,

The mariners, says, how thou hast disposed,

And all the rest o’ the fleet?

Ari.                                         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;

Whom, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d


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

A dozen years; within which space she died,

And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy


As fast as mill-wheels strike: Then was this


(Save for the son that she did litter here,

A freckled whelp, hag-born,) not honour’d with

A human shape.

Ari.                       Yes: Caliban her son.

Pro. 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 every-angry bears; it was a torment

To lay upon the damn’d, which Sycorax

Could not again undo; it was mine art,

When I arriv’d and heard thee that made gape

The pine, and let thee out.

Ari.                                  I thank thee, master.

Pro. If thou more murmur’st I will rend an

And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till (oak,

Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters.

Ari.                                          Pardon, master:

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my spriting gently.

Pro.                        Do so; and after two days

I will discharge thee.

Ari.                             That’s my noble master!

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

Pro. Go, make thyself like to a nymph o’ the


Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible

To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape

And hither come in’t: hence, with diligence.

[Exit. ARIEL.

(On 7/23/14 –  We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest