The Tempest - allthingsshakespeare.com€¦ · Web viewGONZALODolour comes to him, indeed: youhave...

The TempestAct II

By William Shakespeare

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ACT IISCENE I. Another part of the island.

Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others

GONZALOBeseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,So have we all, of joy; for our escapeIs much beyond our loss. Our hint of woeIs common; every day some sailor’s wife,The masters of some merchant and the merchantHave just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,I mean our preservation, few in millionsCan speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weighOur sorrow with our comfort.

ALONSOPrithee, peace.

SEBASTIANHe receives comfort like cold porridge.

ANTONIOThe visitor will not give him o’er so.

SEBASTIANLook he’s winding up the watch of his wit;by and by it will strike.

GONZALOSir,–

SEBASTIANOne: tell.

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GONZALOWhen every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d,Comes to the entertainer–

SEBASTIANA dollar.

GONZALODolour comes to him, indeed: youhave spoken truer than you purposed.

SEBASTIANYou have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

GONZALOTherefore, my lord,–

ANTONIOFie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

ALONSOI prithee, spare.

GONZALOWell, I have done: but yet,–

SEBASTIANHe will be talking.

ANTONIOWhich, of he or Adrian, for a goodwager, first begins to crow?

SEBASTIANThe old cock.

ANTONIOThe cockerel.

SEBASTIANDone. The wager?

ANTONIOA laughter.




SEBASTIANA match!

ADRIANThough this island seem to be desert,–

SEBASTIANHa, ha, ha! So, you’re paid.

ADRIANUninhabitable and almost inaccessible,–

SEBASTIANYet,–

ADRIANYet,–

ANTONIOHe could not miss’t.

ADRIANIt must needs be of subtle, tender and delicatetemperance.

ANTONIOTemperance was a delicate wench.

SEBASTIANAy, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

ADRIANThe air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

SEBASTIANAs if it had lungs and rotten ones.

ANTONIOOr as ’twere perfumed by a fen.

GONZALOHere is everything advantageous to life.

ANTONIOTrue; save means to live.




SEBASTIANOf that there’s none, or little.

GONZALOHow lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

ANTONIOThe ground indeed is tawny.

SEBASTIANWith an eye of green in’t.

ANTONIOHe misses not much.

SEBASTIANNo; he doth but mistake the truth totally.

GONZALOBut the rarity of it is,–which is indeed almostbeyond credit,–

SEBASTIANAs many vouched rarities are.

GONZALOThat our garments, being, as they were, drenched inthe sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness andglosses, being rather new-dyed than stained withsalt water.

ANTONIOIf but one of his pockets could speak, would it notsay he lies?

SEBASTIANAy, or very falsely pocket up his report

GONZALOMethinks our garments are now as fresh as when weput them on first in Afric, at the marriage ofthe king’s fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.

SEBASTIAN‘Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.




ADRIANTunis was never graced before with such a paragon totheir queen.

GONZALONot since widow Dido’s time.

ANTONIOWidow! a pox o’ that! How came that widow in?widow Dido!

SEBASTIANWhat if he had said ‘widower AEneas’ too? Good Lord,how you take it!

ADRIAN‘Widow Dido’ said you? you make me study of that:she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

GONZALOThis Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

ADRIANCarthage?

GONZALOI assure you, Carthage.

SEBASTIANHis word is more than the miraculous harp; he hathraised the wall and houses too.

ANTONIOWhat impossible matter will he make easy next?

SEBASTIANI think he will carry this island home in his pocketand give it his son for an apple.

ANTONIOAnd, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bringforth more islands.

GONZALOAy.




ANTONIOWhy, in good time.

GONZALOSir, we were talking that our garments seem nowas fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriageof your daughter, who is now queen.

ANTONIOAnd the rarest that e’er came there.

SEBASTIANBate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

ANTONIOO, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.

GONZALOIs not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day Iwore it? I mean, in a sort.

ANTONIOThat sort was well fished for.

GONZALOWhen I wore it at your daughter’s marriage?

ALONSOYou cram these words into mine ears againstThe stomach of my sense. Would I had neverMarried my daughter there! for, coming thence,My son is lost and, in my rate, she too,Who is so far from Italy removedI ne’er again shall see her. O thou mine heirOf Naples and of Milan, what strange fishHath made his meal on thee?

FRANCISCOSir, 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 breastedThe surge most swoln that met him; his bold head‘Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar’dHimself with his good arms in lusty strokeTo the shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bow’d,




As stooping to relieve him: I not doubtHe came alive to land.

ALONSONo, no, he’s gone.

SEBASTIANSir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,But rather lose her to an African;Where she at least is banish’d from your eye,Who hath cause to wet the grief on’t.

ALONSOPrithee, peace.

SEBASTIANYou were kneel’d to and importuned otherwiseBy all of us, and the fair soul herselfWeigh’d between loathness and obedience, atWhich end o’ the beam should bow. We have lost yourson,I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples haveMore widows in them of this business’ makingThan we bring men to comfort them:The fault’s your own.

ALONSOSo is the dear’st o’ the loss.

GONZALOMy lord Sebastian,The truth you speak doth lack some gentlenessAnd time to speak it in: you rub the sore,When you should bring the plaster.

SEBASTIANVery well.

ANTONIOAnd most chirurgeonly.

GONZALOIt is foul weather in us all, good sir,When you are cloudy.




SEBASTIANFoul weather?

ANTONIOVery foul.

GONZALOHad I plantation of this isle, my lord,–

ANTONIOHe’ld sow’t with nettle-seed.

SEBASTIANOr docks, or mallows.

GONZALOAnd were the king on’t, what would I do?

SEBASTIAN‘Scape being drunk for want of wine.

GONZALOI’ the commonwealth I would by contrariesExecute all things; for no kind of trafficWould I admit; no name of magistrate;Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,And use of service, none; contract, succession,Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;No occupation; all men idle, all;And women too, but innocent and pure;No sovereignty;–

SEBASTIANYet he would be king on’t.

ANTONIOThe latter end of his commonwealth forgets thebeginning.

GONZALOAll things in common nature should produceWithout 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.

SEBASTIANNo marrying ‘mong his subjects?

ANTONIONone, man; all idle: whores and knaves.

GONZALOI would with such perfection govern, sir,To excel the golden age.

SEBASTIANGod save his majesty!

ANTONIOLong live Gonzalo!

GONZALOAnd,–do you mark me, sir?

ALONSOPrithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.

GONZALOI do well believe your highness; anddid it to minister occasion to these gentlemen,who are of such sensible and nimble lungs thatthey always use to laugh at nothing.

ANTONIO‘Twas you we laughed at.

GONZALOWho in this kind of merry fooling am nothingto you: so you may continue and laugh atnothing still.

ANTONIOWhat a blow was there given!

SEBASTIANAn it had not fallen flat-long.




GONZALOYou are gentlemen of brave metal; you would liftthe moon out of her sphere, if she would continuein it five weeks without changing.

Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music

SEBASTIANWe would so, and then go a bat-fowling.

ANTONIONay, good my lord, be not angry.

GONZALONo, I warrant you; I will not adventuremy discretion so weakly. Will you laughme asleep, for I am very heavy?

ANTONIOGo sleep, and hear us.

All sleep except ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO

ALONSOWhat, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyesWould, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I findThey are inclined to do so.

SEBASTIANPlease you, sir,Do not omit the heavy offer of it:It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,It is a comforter.

ANTONIOWe two, my lord,Will guard your person while you take your rest,And watch your safety.

ALONSOThank you. Wondrous heavy.

ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL

SEBASTIANWhat a strange drowsiness possesses them!




ANTONIOIt is the quality o’ the climate.

SEBASTIANWhyDoth it not then our eyelids sink? I find notMyself disposed to sleep.

ANTONIONor I; my spirits are nimble.They fell together all, as by consent;They dropp’d, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?–No more:–And yet me thinks I see it in thy face,What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, andMy strong imagination sees a crownDropping upon thy head.

SEBASTIANWhat, art thou waking?

ANTONIODo you not hear me speak?

SEBASTIANI do; and surelyIt is a sleepy language and thou speak’stOut of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?This is a strange repose, to be asleepWith eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,And yet so fast asleep.

ANTONIONoble Sebastian,Thou let’st thy fortune sleep–die, rather; wink’stWhiles thou art waking.

SEBASTIANThou dost snore distinctly;There’s meaning in thy snores.

ANTONIOI am more serious than my custom: youMust be so too, if heed me; which to doTrebles thee o’er.




SEBASTIANWell, I am standing water.

ANTONIOI’ll teach you how to flow.

SEBASTIANDo so: to ebbHereditary sloth instructs me.

ANTONIOO,If you but knew how you the purpose cherishWhiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,Most often do so near the bottom runBy their own fear or sloth.

SEBASTIANPrithee, say on:The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaimA matter from thee, and a birth indeedWhich throes thee much to yield.

ANTONIOThus, sir:Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,Who shall be of as little memoryWhen he is earth’d, hath here almost persuade,–For he’s a spirit of persuasion, onlyProfesses to persuade,–the king his son’s alive,‘Tis as impossible that he’s undrown’dAnd he that sleeps here swims.

SEBASTIANI have no hopeThat he’s undrown’d.

ANTONIOO, out of that ‘no hope’What great hope have you! no hope that way isAnother way so high a hope that evenAmbition cannot pierce a wink beyond,But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with meThat Ferdinand is drown’d?




SEBASTIANHe’s gone.

ANTONIOThen, tell me,Who’s the next heir of Naples?

SEBASTIANClaribel.

ANTONIOShe that is queen of Tunis; she that dwellsTen leagues beyond man’s life; she that from NaplesCan have no note, unless the sun were post–The man i’ the moon’s too slow–till new-born chinsBe rough and razorable; she that–from whom?We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again,And by that destiny to perform an actWhereof what’s past is prologue, what to comeIn yours and my discharge.

SEBASTIANWhat stuff is this! how say you?‘Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s queen of Tunis;So is she heir of Naples; ‘twixt which regionsThere is some space.

ANTONIOA space whose every cubitSeems to cry out, ‘How shall that ClaribelMeasure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,And let Sebastian wake.’ Say, this were deathThat now hath seized them; why, they were no worseThan now they are. There be that can rule NaplesAs well as he that sleeps; lords that can prateAs amply and unnecessarilyAs this Gonzalo; I myself could makeA chough of as deep chat. O, that you boreThe mind that I do! what a sleep were thisFor your advancement! Do you understand me?

SEBASTIANMethinks I do.




ANTONIOAnd how does your contentTender your own good fortune?

SEBASTIANI rememberYou did supplant your brother Prospero.

ANTONIOTrue:And look how well my garments sit upon me;Much feater than before: my brother’s servantsWere then my fellows; now they are my men.

SEBASTIANBut, for your conscience?

ANTONIOAy, sir; where lies that? if ’twere a kibe,‘Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel notThis deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,That stand ‘twixt me and Milan, candied be theyAnd melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother,No better than the earth he lies upon,If he were that which now he’s like, that’s dead;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 putThis ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, whoShould 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 thatWe say befits the hour.

SEBASTIANThy case, dear friend,Shall be my precedent; as thou got’st Milan,I’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one strokeShall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;And I the king shall love thee.

ANTONIODraw together;And when I rear my hand, do you the like,To fall it on Gonzalo.




SEBASTIANO, but one word.

They talk apart

Re-enter ARIEL, invisible

ARIELMy master through his art foresees the dangerThat you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth–For else his project dies–to keep them living.

Sings in GONZALO’s ear

While you here do snoring lie,Open-eyed conspiracyHis time doth take.If of life you keep a care,Shake off slumber, and beware:Awake, awake!

ANTONIOThen let us both be sudden.

GONZALONow, good angelsPreserve the king.

They wake

ALONSOWhy, how now? ho, awake! Why are you drawn?Wherefore this ghastly looking?

GONZALOWhat’s the matter?

SEBASTIANWhiles we stood here securing your repose,Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowingLike bulls, or rather lions: did’t not wake you?It struck mine ear most terribly.

ALONSOI heard nothing.




ANTONIOO, ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear,To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roarOf a whole herd of lions.

ALONSOHeard you this, Gonzalo?

GONZALOUpon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,And that a strange one too, which did awake me:I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open’d,I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise,That’s verily. ‘Tis best we stand upon our guard,Or that we quit this place; let’s draw our weapons.

ALONSOLead off this ground; and let’s make further searchFor my poor son.

GONZALOHeavens keep him from these beasts!For he is, sure, i’ the island.

ALONSOLead away.

ARIELProspero my lord shall know what I have done: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 heardCALIBANAll the infections that the sun sucks upFrom bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make himBy inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear meAnd yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch,Fright me with urchin–shows, pitch me i’ the mire,Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the darkOut of my way, unless he bid ’em; butFor every trifle are they set upon me;Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me




And after bite me, then like hedgehogs whichLie tumbling in my barefoot way and mountTheir pricks at my footfall; sometime am IAll wound with adders who with cloven tonguesDo hiss me into madness.

Enter TRINCULO

Lo, now, lo!Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment meFor bringing wood in slowly. I’ll fall flat;Perchance he will not mind me.

TRINCULOHere’s neither bush nor shrub, to bear offany weather at all, and another storm brewing;I hear it sing i’ the wind: yond same blackcloud, yond huge one, looks like a foulbombard that would shed his liquor. If itshould thunder as it did before, I know notwhere to hide my head: yond same cloud cannotchoose but fall by pailfuls. What have wehere? 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 pieceof silver: there would this monster make aman; any strange beast there makes a man:when they will not give a doit to relieve a lamebeggar, they will lazy out ten to see a deadIndian. Legged like a man and his fins likearms! Warm o’ my troth! I do now let loosemy opinion; hold it no longer: this is no fish,but an islander, that hath lately suffered by athunderbolt.

Thunder

Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is tocreep under his gaberdine; there is no othershelter hereabouts: misery acquaints a man withstrange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till thedregs of the storm be past.




Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand

STEPHANOI shall no more to sea, to sea,Here shall I die ashore–This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’sfuneral: well, here’s my comfort.

Drinks

Sings

The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I,The gunner and his mateLoved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery,But none of us cared for Kate;For she had a tongue with a tang,Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!She loved 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!This is a scurvy tune too: but here’s my comfort.

Drinks

CALIBANDo not torment me: Oh!

STEPHANOWhat’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do you puttricks upon’s with savages and men of Ind, ha? Ihave not scaped drowning to be afeard now of yourfour legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man asever went on four legs cannot make him give ground;and it shall be said so again while Stephanobreathes at’s nostrils.

CALIBANThe spirit torments me; Oh!

STEPHANOThis is some monster of the isle with four legs, whohath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devilshould he learn our language? I will give him somerelief, if it be but for that. if I can recover him




and keep him tame and get to Naples with him, he’s apresent for any emperor that ever trod on neat’s leather.

CALIBANDo not torment me, prithee; I’ll bring my wood home faster.

STEPHANOHe’s in his fit now and does not talk after thewisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he havenever drunk wine afore will go near to remove hisfit. If I can recover him and keep him tame, I willnot take too much for him; he shall pay for him thathath him, and that soundly.

CALIBANThou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, Iknow it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.

STEPHANOCome on your ways; open your mouth; here is thatwhich will give language to you, cat: open yourmouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you,and that soundly: you cannot tell who’s your friend:open your chaps again.

TRINCULOI should know that voice: it should be–but he isdrowned; and these are devils: O defend me!

STEPHANOFour legs and two voices: a most delicate monster!His forward voice now is to speak well of hisfriend; his backward voice is to utter foul speechesand to detract. If all the wine in my bottle willrecover him, I will help his ague. Come. Amen! Iwill pour some in thy other mouth.

TRINCULOStephano!

STEPHANODoth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This isa devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have nolong spoon.




TRINCULOStephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me andspeak to me: for I am Trinculo–be not afeard–thygood friend Trinculo.

STEPHANOIf thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I’ll pull theeby the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo’s legs,these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! Howcamest thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? canhe vent Trinculos?

TRINCULOI took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke. Butart thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now thou artnot drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid meunder the dead moon-calf’s gaberdine for fear ofthe storm. And art thou living, Stephano? OStephano, two Neapolitans ‘scaped!

STEPHANOPrithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.

CALIBAN[Aside] These be fine things, an if they benot sprites.That’s a brave god and bears celestial liquor.I will kneel to him.

STEPHANOHow didst thou ‘scape? How camest thou hither?swear by this bottle how thou camest hither. Iescaped upon a butt of sack which the sailorsheaved o’erboard, by this bottle; which I made ofthe bark of a tree with mine own hands since I wascast ashore.

CALIBANI’ll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject;for the liquor is not earthly.

STEPHANOHere; swear then how thou escapedst.




TRINCULOSwum ashore. man, like a duck: I can swim like aduck, I’ll be sworn.

STEPHANOHere, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like aduck, thou art made like a goose.

TRINCULOO Stephano. hast any more of this?

STEPHANOThe whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by thesea-side where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf!how does thine ague?

CALIBANHast thou not dropp’d from heaven?

STEPHANOOut o’ the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i’the moon when time was.

CALIBANI have seen thee in her and I do adore thee:My mistress show’d me thee and thy dog and thy bush.

STEPHANOCome, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnishit anon with new contents swear.

TRINCULOBy this good light, this is a very shallow monster!I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The man i’the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Welldrawn, monster, in good sooth!

CALIBANI’ll show thee every fertile inch o’ th’ island;And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god.

TRINCULOBy this light, a most perfidious and drunkenmonster! when ‘s god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle.




CALIBANI’ll kiss thy foot; I’ll swear myself thy subject.

STEPHANOCome on then; down, and swear.

TRINCULOI shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headedmonster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in myheart to beat him,–

STEPHANOCome, kiss.

TRINCULOBut that the poor monster’s in drink: an abominable monster!

CALIBANI’ll show thee the best springs; I’ll pluck thee berries;I’ll fish for thee and get thee wood enough.A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!I’ll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,Thou wondrous man.

TRINCULOA most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of aPoor drunkard!

CALIBANI prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;And I with my long nails will dig thee pignuts;Show thee a jay’s nest and instruct thee howTo snare the nimble marmoset; I’ll bring theeTo clustering filberts and sometimes I’ll get theeYoung scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

STEPHANOI prithee now, lead the way without any moretalking. Trinculo, the king and all our companyelse being drowned, we will inherit here: here;bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we’ll fill him byand by again.

CALIBAN[Sings drunkenly]Farewell master; farewell, farewell!




TRINCULOA howling monster: a drunken monster!

CALIBANNo more dams I’ll make for fishNor fetch in firingAt requiring;Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish‘Ban, ‘Ban, CacalibanHas a new master: get a new man.Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom,hey-day, freedom!

STEPHANOO brave monster! Lead the way.

Exeunt

[The Tempest – Act III]




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