John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

Gonz. I’ll warrant him for drowning, though the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as leaky as an unstanched wench.

  Enter Alonzo and Ferdinand.

  Ferd. For myself I care not, but your loss brings a thousand deaths to me.

  Alon. O name not me, I am grown old, my son; I now am tedious to the world, and that, By use, is so to me: But, Ferdinand, I grieve my subjects’ loss in thee: Alas! I grieve my subjects’ loss in thee: Alas! I suffer justly for my crimes, but why Thou should’st — O heaven!

  [A cry within.

  Hark! farewell, my son, a long farewell!

  Enter Trincalo, Mustacho, and Ventoso.

  Trinc. What, must our mouths be cold then?

  Vent. All’s lost. To prayers, to prayers.

  Gonz. The duke and prince are gone within to prayers. Let’s assist them.

  Must. Nay, we may e’en pray too, our Case is now alike.

  Ant. Mercy upon us! we split, we split!

  Gonz. Let’s all sink with the duke, and the young prince.

  [Exeunt.

  Enter Stephano and Trincalo.

  Trinc. The ship is sinking.

  [A new cry within.

  Steph. Run her ashore!

  Trinc. Luff! luff! or we are all lost! there’s a rock upon the starboard-bow.

  Steph. She strikes, she strikes! All shift for themselves.

  [Exeunt.

  SCENE II. —

  In the midst of the shower of fire, the scene changes. The cloudy sky, rocks, and sea vanish; and, when the lights return, discover that beautiful part of the island, which was the habitation of Prospero: ’Tis composed of three walks of cypress-trees; each side-walk leads to a cave, in one of which Prospero keeps his daughter, in the other Hippolito: The middle-walk is of great depth, and leads to an open part of the island.

  Enter Prospero and Miranda.

  Prosp. Miranda, where’s your sister?

  Mir. I left her looking from the pointed rock, At the walk’s end, on the huge beat of waters.

  Prosp. It is a dreadful object.

  Mir. If by your art, My dearest father, you have put them in This roar, allay them quickly.

  Prosp. I have so ordered, That not one creature in the ship is lost: I have done nothing but in care of thee, My daughter, and thy pretty sister: You both are ignorant of what you are, Not knowing whence I am, nor that I’m more Than Prospero, master of a narrow cell, And thy unhappy father.

  Mir. I ne’er endeavoured To know more than you were pleased to tell me.

  Prosp. I should inform thee farther.

  Mir. You often, sir, began to tell me what I am, But then you stopt.

  Prosp. The hour’s now come; Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time, before we came into this cell? I do not think thou canst, for then thou wert not Full three years old.

  Mir. Certainly I can, sir.

  Prosp. Tell me the image then of any thing, Which thou dost keep in thy remembrance still.

  Mir. Sir, had I not four or five women once, that tended me?

  Prosp. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda: What seest thou else, In the dark back-ward, and abyss of time? If thou rememberest aught, ere thou cam’st here, Then how thou cam’st thou mayest remember too.

  Mir. Sir, that I do not.

  Prosp. Fifteen years since, Miranda, Thy father was the duke of Milan, and A prince of power.

  Mir. Sir, are not you my father?

  Prosp. Thy mother was all virtue, and she said Thou wast my daughter, and thy sister too.

  Mir. O heavens! what foul play had we, that We hither came? or was’t a blessing that we did?

  Prosp. Both, both, my girl.

  Mir. But, sir, I pray, proceed.

  Prosp. My brother, and thy uncle, called Antonio, To whom I trusted then the manage of my state, While I was wrapped with secret studies, — that false uncle, Having attained the craft of granting suits, And of denying them; whom to advance, Or lop, for over-topping, — soon was grown The ivy, which did hide my princely trunk, And sucked my verdure out: Thou attend’st not.

  Mir. O good sir, I do.

  Prosp. I thus neglecting worldly ends, and bent To closeness, and the bettering of my mind, Waked in my false brother an evil nature: He did believe He was indeed the duke, because he then Did execute the outward face of sovereignty —— Do’st thou still mark me?

  Mir. Your story would cure deafness.

  Prosp. This false duke Needs would be absolute in Milan, and confederate With Savoy’s duke, to give him tribute, and To do him homage.

  Mir. False man!

  Prosp. This duke of Savoy, being an enemy To me inveterate, strait grants my brother’s suit; And on a night, mated to his design, Antonio opened the gates of Milan, and In the dead of darkness hurried me thence, With thy young sister, and thy crying self.

  Mir. But wherefore did they not that hour destroy us?

  Prosp. They durst not, girl, in Milan, for the love My people bore me; in short, they hurried us Away to Savoy, and thence aboard a bark at Nissa’s port, Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared A rotten carcase of a boat, not rigged, No tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively had quit it.

  Mir. Alack! what trouble Was I then to you?

  Prosp. Thou and thy sister were Two cherubims, which did preserve me: You both Did smile, infused with fortitude from heaven.

  Mir. How came we ashore?

  Prosp. By providence divine. Some food we had, and some fresh water, which A nobleman of Savoy, called Gonzalo, Appointed master of that black design, Gave us; with rich garments, and all necessaries, Which since have steaded much; And of his gentleness (Knowing I loved my books) he furnished me, From mine own library, with volumes, which I prize above my dukedom.

  Mir. Would I might see that man!

  Prosp. Here in this island we arrived, and here Have I your tutor been. But by my skill I find, that my mid-heaven doth depend On a most happy star, whose influence If I now 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 can’st not chuse. [She falls asleep.

  Come away, my spirit: 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 it to fly, to swim, to shoot into the fire, To ride into the curled clouds; to thy strong bidding Task Ariel, and all his qualities.

  Prosp. Hast thou, spirit, performed to point The tempest, that I bade thee?

  Ariel. To every article. I boarded the duke’s ship; now on the beak, Now in the waste, the deck, in every cabin, I flamed amazement; and sometimes I seemed To burn in many places; on the top-mast, The yards, and bow-sprit, I did flame distinctly; Nay, once I rained a shower of fire upon them.

  Prosp. My brave spirit! — Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Did not infect his reason?

  Ariel. Not a soul, But felt a fever of the mind, and played Some tricks of desperation; all, But mariners, plunged in the foaming brine, And quit the vessel: The duke’s son, Ferdinand, With hair upstaring, (more like reeds than hair) Was the first man that leaped; cried, Hell is empty! And all the devils are here!

  Prosp. Why, that’s my spirit! — But, was not this nigh shore?

  Ariel. Close by, my master.

  Prosp. But, Ariel, are they safe?

  Ariel. Not a hair perished. In troops I have dispersed them round this isle: The duke’s son I have landed by himself,

  Whom I have left warming the air with sighs, In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting, His arms enfolded in this sad knot.

  Prosp. Say how thou hast disposed the mariners Of the duke’s ship, and all the rest o’the fleet?

  Ariel. Safely in harbour Is the duke’s ship; in the deep nook, where once Thou called’st me up, at midnight, to fetch dew From the still vexed Bermoothes, there she’s hid; The mariners all under hatches stowed; Whom, with a charm, joined to their suffered lab
our, I have left asleep: And for the rest o’the fleet, Which I dispersed, they all have met again, And are upon the Mediterranean float, Bound sadly home for Italy; Supposing that they saw the duke’s ship wrecked, And his great person perish.

  Prosp. Ariel, thy charge Exactly is performed: But there’s more work; — What is the time o’the day?

  Ariel. Past the mid season.

  Prosp. At least two glasses. The time ‘tween six and now must by us both Be spent most preciously.

  Ariel. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, let me remember Thee what thou hast promised, which is not yet Performed me.

  Prosp. How now, moody! What is’t thou canst demand?

  Ariel. My liberty.

  Prosp. Before the time be out? — no more!

  Ariel. I pr’ythee, Remember I have done thee faithful service; Told thee no lies; made thee no mistakings; Served without or grudge, or grumblings; Thou didst promise to bate me a full year.

  Prosp. Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee?

  Ariel. No.

  Prosp. Thou dost; and think’st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep; To run against the sharp wind of the north; To do my business in the veins of the earth, When it is baked with frost.

  Ariel. I do not, sir.

  Prosp. 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.

  Prosp. Thou hast! Where was she born? Speak, tell me.

  Ariel. Sir, in Argier.

  Prosp. Oh, was she so! — I must, Once every month, recount what thou hast been, Which thou forgettest. This damned Witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries Too terrible to enter human hearing, From Argier, thou know’st, was banished: But, for one thing she did, They would not take her life. — Is not this true?

  Ariel. Ay, sir.

  Prosp. 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, ‘cause thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorred commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers,

  (In her unmitigable rage) into a cloven pine; Within whose rift imprisoned, thou didst painfully Remain a dozen years, within which space she died, And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans, As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this isle (Save for two brats, which she did litter here, The brutish Caliban, and his twin-sister, Two freckled hag-born whelps) not honoured with A human shape.

  Ariel. Yes; Caliban her son, and Sycorax his sister.

  Prosp. Dull thing! I say so. — He, That Caliban, and she, that Sycorax, Whom I now keep in service. Thou best know’st What torment I did find thee in; thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment To lay upon the damned, which Sycorax Could ne’er again undo: It was my art, When I arrived and heard thee, that made the pine To gape, and let thee out.

  Ariel. I thank thee, master.

  Prosp. If thou more murmurest, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till thou Hast howled away twelve winters more.

  Ariel. Pardon, master; I will be correspondent to command, And be a gentle spirit.

  Prosp. Do so; and after two days I’ll discharge thee.

  Ariel. Thanks, my great master. But I have yet one request.

  Prosp. What’s that, my spirit?

  Ariel. I know that this day’s business is important,

  Requiring too much toil for one alone.

  I have a gentle spirit for my love, Who, twice seven years has waited for my freedom: Let it appear, it will assist me much, And we with mutual joy shall entertain Each other. This, I beseech you, grant me.

  Prosp. You shall have your desire.

  Ariel. That’s my noble master. — Milcha!

  [Milcha flies down to his assistance.

  Milc. I am here, my love.

  Ariel. Thou art free! Welcome, my dear! — What shall we do? Say, say, what shall we do?

  Prosp. Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible To every eye-ball else. Hence, with diligence; Anon thou shalt know more. [They both fly up, and cross in the air.

  Thou hast slept well, my child.

  [To Mir.

  Mir. The sadness of your story put heaviness in me.

  Prosp. Shake it off. — Come on, I’ll now call Caliban, my slave, who never yields us a kind answer.

  Mir. ’Tis a creature, sir, I do not love to look on.

  Prosp. But, as it is, we cannot miss him: He does make our fire, fetch in our wood, and serve in offices that profit us. — What ho, slave! Caliban! thou earth, thou, speak!

  Calib. [within.] There’s wood enough within.

  Prosp. Thou poisonous slave! got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

  Enter Caliban.

  Calib. As wicked dew, as e’er my mother brushed with raven’s feather from unwholesome fens, drop on you both! A south-west wind blow on you, and blister you all o’er!

  Prosp. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath up: Urchins shall prick thee till thou bleed’st: Thou shalt be pinched as thick as honey-combs, each pinch more stinging than the bees which made them.

  Calib. I must eat my dinner: This island’s mine by Sycorax my mother, which thou took’st from me. When thou earnest first, thou stroak’dst me, and madest much of me; would’st give me water with berries in’t, and teach me how to name the bigger light, and how the less, that burn by day and night; and then I loved thee, and showed thee all the qualities of the isle, the fresh-springs, brine-pits, barren places, and fertile. Cursed be I, that I did so! All the charms of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on thee! for I am all the subjects that thou hast. I first was mine own lord; and here thou stayest me in this hard rock, while thou dost keep from me the rest o’the island.

  Prosp. 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 children.

  Calib. Oh, ho! oh, ho! would it had been done! Thou didst prevent me, I had peopled else this isle with Calibans.

  Prosp. Abhorred slave! who ne’er wouldst any print of goodness 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 thy own meaning, but wouldst gabble like a thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes with words, which made them known. — But thy wild race (though thou didst learn) had that in’t, which good natures could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou deservedly pent up into this rock.

  Calib. You taught me language; and my profit by it is, that I know to curse. The red botch rid you for learning me your language!

  Prosp. Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel, and be quick To answer other business. — Shrug’st thou, malice! If thou neglectest, 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.

  Calib. No, pr’ythee! I must obey. His art is of such power, It would controul my dam’s god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him.

  Prosp. So, slave, hence!

  [Exeunt Prosp. and Calib. severally.

  Enter Dorinda.

  Dor. Oh, sister! what have I beheld!

  Mir. What is it moves you so?

  Dor. From yonder rock, As I my eyes cast down upon the seas, The whistling winds blew rudely on my face, And the waves roared; at first, I thought the war Had been between themselves, but straight I spied A huge great creature.

  Mir. O, you mean the ship?

  Dor. Is’t not a creature then? — It seemed alive.

  Mir. But what of it?

  Dor. This floating ram did bear his horns above, All tied with ribbands, ruffling in the wind: Sometimes he nod
ded down his head a-while, And then the waves did heave him to the moon, He clambering to the top of all the billows; And then again he curtsied down so low, I could not see him: Till at last, all side-long, With a great crack, his belly burst in pieces.

  Mir. There all had perished, Had not my father’s magic art relieved them. — But, sister, I have stranger news to tell you: In this great creature there were other creatures; And shortly we may chance to see that thing, Which you have heard my father call a man.

  Dor. But, what is that? For yet he never told me.

  Mir. I know no more than you: — But I have heard My father say, we women were made for him.

  Dor. What, that he should eat us, sister?

  Mir. No sure; you see my father is a man, and yet He does us good. I would he were not old.

  Dor. Methinks, indeed, it would be finer, if We two had two young fathers.

  Mir. No, sister, no: If they were young, my father Said, we must call them brothers.

  Dor. But, pray, how does it come, that we two are Not brothers then, and have not beards like him?

  Mir. Now I confess you pose me.

  Dor. How did he come to be our father too?

  Mir. I think he found us when we both were little, And grew within the ground.

  Dor. Why could he not find more of us? Pray, sister, Let you and I look up and down one day, To find some little ones for us to play with.

  Mir. Agreed; but now we must go in. This is The hour wherein my father’s charm will work, Which seizes all who are in open air: The effect of this great art I long to see, Which will perform as much as magic can.

  Dor. And I, methinks, more long to see a man.

  [Exeunt.

  ACT II.

  SCENE I.

  The scene changes to the wilder part of the Island. It is composed of divers sorts of trees and barren places, with a prospect of the sea at a great distance.

  Enter Stephano, Mustacho, and Ventoso.

  Vent. The runlet of brandy was a loving runlet, and floated after us out of pure pity.

  Must. This kind bottle, like an old acquaintance, swam after it. And this scollop-shell is all our plate now.

  Vent. ’Tis well we have found something since we landed. I pr’ythee fill a sup, and let it go round. — Where hast thou laid the runlet?