by John Dryden
Prosp. Dost thou think so, spirit?
Ariel. Mine would, sir, were I human.
Prosp. And mine shall: Hast thou, who art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not I (a man Like them, one, who as sharply relish passions As they) be kindlier moved than thou art? Though they have pierced me to the quick with injuries, Yet with my nobler reason, ‘gainst my fury, I will take part; the rarer action is In virtue, than in vengeance. Go, my Ariel, Refresh with needful food their famished bodies, With shows and chearful musick comfort them.
Ariel. Presently, master?
Prosp. With a twinkle, Ariel. — But stay, my spirit; What is become of my slave, Caliban, And Sycorax, his sister?
Ariel. Potent sir, They have cast off your service, and revolted To the wrecked mariners, who have already Parcelled your island into governments.
Prosp. No matter, I have now no need of them. But, spirit, now I stay thee on the wing; Haste to perform what I have given in charge: But see they keep within the bounds I set them.
Ariel. I’ll keep them in with walls of adamant, Invisible as air to mortal eyes, But yet unpassable.
Prosp. Make haste then. [Exeunt severally.
SCENE III. — Wild Island.
Enter Alonzo, Antonio, and Gonzalo.
Gonz. I am weary, and can go no further, sir.
Alon. Old lord, I cannot blame thee, who am myself seized with a weariness, to the dulling of my spirits:
[They sit.
Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it No longer for my flatterers: He is drowned, Whom thus we stray to find. I’m faint with hunger, And must despair of food. [Music without.
What! harmony again? My good friends, hark!
Anto. I fear some other horrid apparition. Give us kind keepers, heaven, I beseech thee!
Gonz. ’Tis chearful music this, unlike the first.
Ariel and Milcha invisible, sing.
Dry those eyes which are o’erflowing, All your storms are overblowing: While you in this isle are biding, You shall feast without providing: Every dainty you can think of, Every wine which you would drink of, Shall be yours; all want shall shun you, Ceres’ blessing so is on you.
Alon. This voice speaks comfort to us.
Anto. Would ‘twere come; There is no music in a song to me, My stomach being empty.
Gonz. O for a heavenly vision of boiled, Baked, and roasted! [Dance of fantastic Spirits; after the dance, a table furnished with meat and fruit is brought in by two Spirits.
Anto. My lord, the duke, see yonder! A table, as I live, set out and furnished With all varieties of meats and fruits.
Alon. ’Tis so indeed; but who dares taste this feast, Which fiends provide, to poison us?
Gonz. Why that dare I; if the black gentleman Be so ill natured, he may do his pleasure.
Anto. ’Tis certain we must either eat or famish: I will encounter it, and feed.
Alon. If both resolve, I will adventure too.
Gonz. The devil may fright me, yet he shall not starve me. [Two Spirits descend, and fly away with the table.
Alon. Heaven! behold, it is as you suspected: ’Tis vanished. Shall we be always haunted with these fiends?
Anto. Here we shall wander till we famish.
Gonz. Certainly one of you was so wicked as to say grace; this comes on it, when men will be godly out of season.
Anto. Yonder’s another table, let’s try that.
[Exeunt.
Enter Trincalo and Caliban.
Trinc. Brother monster, welcome to my private palace. But where’s thy sister? is she so brave a lass?
Calib. In all this isle there are but two more, the daughters of the tyrant Prospero; and she is bigger than them both. O, here she comes! now thou mayest judge thyself, my lord.
Enter Sycorax.
Trinc. She’s monstrous fair indeed. Is this to be my spouse? Well, she’s heir of all this isle (for I will geld monster). The Trincalos, like other wise men, have anciently used to marry for estate, more than for beauty.
Syc. I pr’ythee let me have the gay thing about thy neck, and that which dangles at thy wrist.
[Sycorax points to his whistle and his bottle.
Trinc. My dear blubber-lips! this — observe, my chuck — is a badge of my sea-office; my fair fuss, thou dost not know it.
Syc. No, my dread lord.
Trinc. It shall be a whistle for our first babe, and when the next shipwreck puts me again to swimming, I’ll dive to get a coral to it.
Syc. I’ll be thy pretty child, and wear it first.
Trinc. I pr’ythee, sweet baby, do not play the wanton, and cry for my goods ere I’m dead. When thou art my widow, thou shalt have the devil and all.
Syc. May I not have the other fine thing?
Trinc. This is a sucking-bottle for young Trincalo.
Calib. Shall she not taste of that immortal liquor?
Trinc. Umph! that’s another question: For if she be thus flippant in her water, what will she be in her wine?
Enter Ariel (invisible) and changes the Bottle which stands upon the Ground.
Ariel. There’s water for your wine.
[Exit Ariel.
Trinc. Well! since it must be so.
[Gives her the bottle.
How do you like it now, my queen that must be?
[She drinks.
Syc. Is this your heav’nly liquor? I’ll bring you to a river of the same.
Trinc. Wilt thou so, Madam Monster? What a mighty prince shall I be then! I would not change my dukedom to be great Turk Trincalo.
Syc. This is the drink of frogs.
Trinc. Nay, if the frogs of this island drink such, they are the merriest frogs in Christendom.
Calib. She does not know the virtue of this liquor: I pr’ythee, let me drink for her.
[Caliban drinks.
Trinc. Well said, Subject Monster!
Calib. My lord, this is mere water.
Trinc. ’Tis thou hast changed the wine then, and drunk it up, like a debauched fish as thou art. Let me see’t, I’ll taste it myself — Element! mere element, as I live! It was a cold gulp, such as this, which killed my famous predecessor, old Simon the king[F].
Calib. How does thy honour? pr’ythee, be not angry, and I will lick thy shoe.
Trinc. I could find in my heart to turn thee out of my dominions, for a liquorish monster.
Calib. O, my lord, I have found it out; this must be done by one of Prospero’s spirits.
Trinc. There’s nothing but malice in these devils; I would it had been holy-water for their sakes!
Syc. ’Tis no matter, I will cleave to thee.
Trinc. Lovingly said, in troth: Now cannot I hold out against her. This wife-like virtue of her’s has overcome me.
Syc. Shall I have thee in my arms?
Trinc. Thou shalt have Duke Trincalo in thy arms: But, pr’ythee, be not too boisterous with me at first; do not discourage a young beginner. [They embrace.] Stand to your arms, my spouse, and subject monster, —
Enter Stephano, Mustacho, and Ventoso.
The enemy is come to surprise us in our quarters. You shall know, rebels, that I am married to a witch, and we have a thousand spirits of our party.
Steph. Hold! I ask a truce; I and my viceroys (finding no food, and but a small remainder of brandy,) are come to treat a peace betwixt us, which may be for the good of both armies; therefore, Trincalo, disband.
Trinc. Plain Trincalo! methinks I might have been a duke in your mouth; I’ll not accept of your embassy without my title.
Steph. A title shall break no squares betwixt us: Viceroys, give him his style of duke, and treat with him whilst I walk by in state.
[Ventoso and Mustacho bow, whilst Trincalo puts on his Cap.
Must. Our lord and master, Duke Stephano, has sent us, in the first place, to demand of you, upon what ground you make war against him; having no right to govern here, as being elected only by your own voice.
Trinc. To this
I answer, That, having in the face of the world espoused the lawful inheretrix of this island, Queen Blouze the First, and having homage done me by this hectoring spark her brother; from these two I claim a lawful title to this island.
Must. Who, that monster? He a Hector?
Calib. Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?
Trinc. Viceroys! keep good tongues in your heads, I advise you, and proceed to your business.
Must. First and foremost, as to your claim, that you have answered.
Vent. But, second and foremost, we demand of you, that if we make a peace, the butt also may be comprehended in the treaty.
Trinc. I cannot treat with my honour, without your submission.
Steph. I understand, being present, from my ambassadors, what your resolution is, and ask an hour’s time of deliberation, and so I take our leave; but first I desire to be entertained at your butt, as becomes a prince and his ambassadors.
Trinc. That I refuse, till acts of hostility be ceased. These rogues are rather spies than ambassadors. I must take heed of my butt. They come to pry into the secrets of my dukedom.
Vent. Trincalo, you are a barbarous prince, and so farewell.
[Exeunt Steph. Must. and Vent.
Trinc. Subject-monster! stand you sentry before my cellar; my queen and I will enter, and feast ourselves within.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Enter Ferdinand, and Ariel and Milcha invisible.
Ferd. How far will this invisible musician Conduct my steps? he hovers still about me; Whether for good or ill, I cannot tell, Nor care I much; for I have been so long A slave to chance, that I’m as weary of Her flatteries as her frowns; but here I am ——
Ariel. Here I am.
Ferd. Ha! art thou so? the spirit’s turned an echo: This might seem pleasant, could the burden of My griefs accord with any thing but sighs; And my last words, like those of dying men, Need no reply. Fain I would go to shades, Where few would wish to follow me.
Ariel. Follow me.
Ferd. This evil spirit grows importunate, But I’ll not take his counsel.
Ariel. Take his counsel.
Ferd. It may be the devil’s counsel, I’ll never take it.
Ariel. Take it.
Ferd. I will discourse no more with thee, Nor follow one step further.
Ariel. One step further.
Ferd. This must have more importance than an echo; Some spirit tempts me to a precipice. I’ll try if it will answer when I sing My sorrows, to the murmur of this brook.
HE SINGS.
Go thy way.
Ariel.Go thy way.
Ferd.Why shouldst thou stay?
Ariel.Why shouldst thou stay?
Ferd. Where the winds whistle, and where the streams creep, Under yon willow-tree fain would I sleep. Then let me alone, For ’tis time to be gone.
Ariel.For ’tis time to be gone.
Ferd. What cares or pleasures can be in this isle? Within this desart place, There lives no human race; Fate cannot frown here, nor kind fortune smile.
Ariel. Kind fortune smiles, and she Has yet in store for thee Some strange felicity. Follow me, follow me, And thou shalt see.
Ferd. I’ll take thy word for once;
Lead on, musician.
[Exeunt and return.
SCENE V. — The Cypress-trees and Caves.
Scene changes, and discovers Prospero and Miranda.
Prosp. Advance the fringed curtains of thine eyes, And say what thou seest yonder.
Mir. Is it a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Sir, I confess it carries a brave form. But ’tis a spirit.
Prosp. No, girl, it eats, and sleeps, and has such senses As we have. This young gallant, whom thou see’st, Was in the wreck; were he not somewhat stained With grief, (beauty’s worst canker) thou might’st call him A goodly person; he has lost his company, And strays about to find them.
Mir. I might call him A thing divine, for nothing natural I ever saw so noble.
Prosp. It goes on, As my soul prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, I’ll free thee within two days for this. [Aside.
Ferd. She’s sure the mistress on whom these airs attend. Fair excellence! if, as your form declares, You are divine, be pleased to instruct me how You will be worshipped; so bright a beauty Cannot sure belong to human kind.
Mir. I am, like you, a mortal, if such you are.
Ferd. My language, too! O heavens! I am the best Of them who speak this speech, when I’m in my Own country.
Prosp. How, the best? what wert thou, if The duke of Savoy heard thee?
Ferd. As I am now; Who wonders to hear thee speak of Savoy; He does hear me, and that he does, I weep. Myself am Savoy, whose fatal eyes (ne’er since at ebb) beheld The duke, my father, wrecked.
Mir. Alack! for pity!
Prosp. At the first sight they have changed eyes. Dear Ariel, I’ll set thee free for this. — [Aside.
Young sir, a word. With hazard of yourself you do me wrong.
Mir. Why speaks my father so ungently? This is The third man that I ever saw, the first Whom e’er I sighed for; sweet heaven, move my father To be inclined my way.
Ferd. O! if a virgin, And your affections not gone forth, I’ll make you Mistress of Savoy.
Prosp. Soft, sir, one word more. —— They’re in each other’s power; but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light. — One word more. Thou usurp’st The name not due to thee, hast put thyself Upon this island as a spy, to get The government from me, the lord of it.
Ferd. No, as I’m a man.
Mir. There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the evil spirit hath so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with it.
Prosp. No more. Speak not for him, he is a traitor. Come! thou art my prisoner, and shalt be in bonds. Sea-water shalt thou drink, thy food shall be The fresh brook-muscles, withered roots and husks, Wherein the acorn cradled; —— follow.
Ferd. No, I will resist such entertainment, Till my enemy has more power. [He draws, and is charmed from moving.
Mir. O dear father! make not too rash a trial Of him; for he is gentle, and not fearful.
Prosp. My child my tutor! put thy sword up, Traitor, who mak’st a show, but dar’st not strike: Thy conscience is possessed with guilt. Come from thy ward, For I can here disarm thee with this wand, And make thy weapon drop.
Mir. ‘Beseech you, father.
Prosp. Hence: Hang not on my garment.
Mir. Sir, have pity! I’ll be his surety!
Prosp. Silence! one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What! An advocate for an impostor? sure Thou think’st there are no more such shapes as his; To the most of men this is a Caliban, And they to him are angels.
Mir. My affections are then most humble; I have no ambition to see a goodlier man.
Prosp. Come on, obey: Thy nerves are in their infancy again, And have no vigour in them.
Ferd. 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, and this man’s threats, To whom I am subdued, would seem light to me, Might I but once a day thorough my prison Behold this maid: All corners else o’ the earth Let liberty make use of: I have space Enough in such a prison.
Prosp. It works: Come on: Thou hast done well, fine Ariel: Follow me. Hark what thou shalt do for me. [Whispers Ariel.
Mir. Be of comfort! My father’s of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech: This is unwonted, Which now came from him.
Prosp. Thou shalt be free as mountain winds: But then Exactly do all points of my command.
Ariel. To a syllable. [Exit Ariel.
Prosp. to Mir. Go in that way, speak not a word for him: I’ll separate you. [Exit Miranda.
Ferd. As soon thou may’st divide the waters, when Thou strik’st ‘em, which pursue thy bootless blow, And meet when it is past.
Prosp. Go practise your philosophy within, And if you
are the same you speak yourself, Bear your afflictions like a prince. — That door Shews you your lodging.
Ferd. ’Tis in vain to strive, I must obey. [Exit Ferd.
Prosp. This goes as I would wish it. Now for my second care, Hippolito. I shall not need to chide him for his fault, His passion is become his punishment. Come forth, Hippolito.
Enter Hippolito.
Hip. ’Tis Prospero’s voice.
Prosp. Hippolito, I know you now expect I should severely chide you: You have seen A woman, in contempt of my commands.
Hip. But, sir, you see I am come off unharmed; I told you, that you need not doubt my courage.
Prosp. You think you have received no hurt?
Hip. No, none, sir. Try me again; whene’er you please I’m ready: I think I cannot fear an army of them.
Prosp. How much in vain it is to bridle nature! [Aside. Well, what was the success of your encounter?
Hip. Sir, we had none, we yielded both at first; For I took her to mercy, and she me.
Prosp. But are you not much changed from what you were?
Hip. Methinks, I wish, and wish! — for what I know not, — But still I wish: — Yet if I had that woman, She, I believe, could tell me what I wish for.
Prosp. What would you do to make that woman yours?
Hip. I’d quit the rest o’the world, that I might live Alone with her; she never should be from me: We two would sit and look till our eyes ached.
Prosp. You’d soon be weary of her.
Hip. O, sir, never.
Prosp. But you’ll grow old and wrinkled, as you see Me now, and then you will not care for her.
Hip. You may do what you please; but, sir, we two Can never possibly grow old.
Prosp. You must, Hippolito.
Hip. Whether we will or no, sir! who shall make us?
Prosp. Nature, which made me so.
Hip. But you have told me, that her works are various: She made you old, but she has made us young.
Prosp. Time will convince you. — Meanwhile, be sure you tread in honour’s paths, That you may merit her: And that you may not Want fit occasions to employ your virtue, In this next cave there is a stranger lodged, One of your kind, young, of a noble presence, And, as he says himself, of princely birth; He is my prisoner, and in deep affliction: Visit, and comfort him; it will become you.