by John Dryden
Hip. Make haste then, this shall ne’er be yours again. I mean to fight with all the men I meet, And, when they’re dead, their women shall be mine.
Ferd. I see you are unskilful: I desire not To take your life, but, if you please, we’ll fight On these conditions; he, who first draws blood, Or who can take the other’s weapon from him, Shall be acknowledged as the conqueror, And both the women shall be his.
Hip. Agreed, And every day I’ll fight for two more with you.
Ferd. But win these first.
Hip. I’ll warrant you I’ll push you. [Exeunt severally.
SCENE III. — The wild Island.
Enter Trincalo, Caliban, and Sycorax.
Calib. My lord, I see ‘em coming yonder.
Trinc. Whom?
Calib. The starved prince, and his two thirsty subjects, that would have our liquor.
Trinc. If thou wert a monster of parts, I would make thee my master of ceremonies, to conduct ‘em in. The devil take all dunces! thou hast lost a brave employment, by not being a linguist, and for want of behaviour.
Syc. My lord, shall I go meet ‘em? I’ll be kind to all of ‘em, just as I am to thee.
Trinc. No, that’s against the fundamental laws of my dukedom: You are in a high place, spouse, and must give good example. Here they come; we’ll put on the gravity of statesmen, and be very dull, that we may be held wise.
Enter Stephano, Ventoso, and Mustacho.
Vent. Duke Trincalo, we have considered.
Trinc. Peace or war?
Must. Peace, and the butt.
Steph. I come now as a private person, and promise to live peaceably under your government.
Trinc. You shall enjoy the benefits of peace; and the first fruits of it, amongst all civil nations, is to be drunk for joy: Caliban, skink about.
Steph. I long to have a rouse to her grace’s health, and to the haunse in kelder, or rather haddock in kelder, for I guess it will be half fish.
[Aside.
Trinc. Subject Stephano, here’s to thee; and let old quarrels be drowned in this draught.
[Drinks.
Steph. Great magistrate, here’s thy sister’s health to thee.
[Drinks to Calib.
Syc. He shall not drink of that immortal liquor; my lord, let him drink water.
Trinc. O sweetheart, you must not shame yourself to-day. Gentlemen subjects, pray bear with her good huswifery: She wants a little breeding, but she’s hearty.
Must. Ventoso, here’s to thee. Is it not better to pierce the butt, than to quarrel and pierce one another’s bellies?
Vent. Let it come, boy.
Trinc. Now would I lay greatness aside, and shake my heels, if I had but music.
Calib. O my lord! my mother left us in her will a hundred spirits to attend us, devils of all sorts, some great roaring devils, and some little singing spirits.
Syc. Shall we call? And thou shalt hear them in the air.
Trinc. I accept the motion: Let us have our mother-in-law’s legacy immediately.
CALIBAN SINGS.
We want music, we want mirth. Up, dam, and cleave the earth: We have no lords that wrong us, Send thy merry spirits among us.
Trinc. What a merry tyrant am I, to have my music, and pay nothing for’t!
A table rises, and four Spirits with wine and meat enter, placing it, as they dance, on the table: The dance ended, the bottles vanish, and the table sinks again.
Vent. The bottle’s drunk.
Must. Then the bottle’s a weak shallow fellow, if it be drunk first.
Trinc. Stephano, give me thy hand: thou hast been a rebel, but here’s to thee: [Drinks.] Pr’ythee, why should we quarrel? Shall I swear two oaths? By bottle, and by butt, I love thee: In witness whereof I drink soundly.
Steph. Your grace shall find there’s no love lost, for I will pledge you soundly.
Trinc. Thou hast been a false rebel, but that’s all one; pledge my grace faithfully. — Caliban, go to the butt, and tell me how it sounds. [Exit Caliban.] Peer Stephano, dost thou love me?
Steph. I love your grace, and all your princely family.
Trinc. ’Tis no matter, if thou lov’st me; hang my family: Thou art my friend, pr’ythee tell me what thou think’st of my princess:
Steph. I look on her, as on a very noble princess.
Trinc. Noble! indeed she had a witch to her mother; and the witches are of great families in Lapland: but the devil was her father; and I have heard of the Monsieur De Villes in France: but look on her beauty, — is she a fit wife for Duke Trincalo? Mark her behaviour too, — she’s tippling yonder with the serving-men.
Steph. An’t please your grace, she’s somewhat homely, but that’s no blemish in a princess. She is virtuous.
Trinc. Umph! virtuous! I am loath to disparage her; but thou art my friend, — canst thou be close?
Steph. As a stopt bottle, an’t please your grace.
Enter Caliban again with a bottle.
Trinc. Why then I’ll tell thee, — I found her an hour ago under an elder-tree, upon a sweet bed of nettles, singing Tory Rory, and Rantum Scantum, with her own natural brother.
Steph. O Jew! make love in her own tribe?
Trinc. But ’tis no matter; to tell thee true, I married her to be a great man, and so forth: But make no words on’t, for I care not who knows it, and so here’s to thee again. — Give me the bottle, Caliban! did you knock the butt? How does it sound?
Calib. It sounds as though it had a noise within.
Trinc. I fear the butt begins to rattle in the throat, and is departing: give me the bottle.
[Drinks.
Must. A short life and a merry, I say.
[Steph. whispers Sycorax.
Syc. But did he tell you so?
Steph. He said you were as ugly as your mother, and that he married you only to get possession of the island.
Syc. My mother’s devils fetch him for’t!
Steph. And your father’s too. Hem! skink about his grace’s health again. O if you will but cast an eye of pity upon me —
Syc. I will cast two eyes of pity on thee; I love thee more than haws or blackberries. I have a hoard of wildings in the moss, my brother knows not of ‘em; but I’ll bring thee where they are.
Steph. Trincalo was but my man, when time was.
Syc. Wert thou his god, and didst thou give him liquor?
Steph. I gave him brandy, and drunk sack myself: Wilt thou leave him, and thou shalt be my princess?
Syc. If thou canst make me glad with this liquor.
Steph. I’ll warrant thee; we’ll ride into the country where it grows.
Syc. How wilt thou carry me thither?
Steph. Upon a hackney-devil of thy mother’s.
Trinc. What’s that you will do? Ha! I hope you have not betrayed me? How does my pigsnye?
[To Sycorax.
Syc. Begone! thou shalt not be my lord; thou say’st I’m ugly.
Trinc. Did you tell her so? — ha! he’s a rogue, do not believe him, chuck.
Steph. The foul words were yours: I will not eat ‘em for you.
Trinc. I see, if once a rebel, then ever a rebel. Did I receive thee into grace for this? I will correct thee with my royal hand.
[Strikes Steph.
Syc. Dost thou hurt my love?
[Flies at Trinc.
Trinc. Where are our guards? Treason! Treason!
[Vent. Must. Calib. run betwixt.
Vent. Who took up arms first, the prince or the people?
Trinc. This false traitor has corrupted the wife of my bosom. [Whispers Mustacho hastily.] Mustacho, strike on my side, and thou shalt be my viceroy.
Must. I am against rebels. Ventoso, obey your viceroy.
Vent. You a viceroy?
[They two fight off from the rest.
Steph. Ha! Hector monster! do you stand neuter?
Calib. Thou would’st drink my liquor, I will not help thee.
Syc. ’Twas his doing that I had such a hu
sband, but I’ll claw him.
[Syc. and Calib. fight, Syc. beating him off the stage.
Trinc. The whole nation is up in arms, and shall I stand idle?
[Trinc. beats off Steph. to the door.
Exit Steph.
I’ll not pursue too far, for fear the enemy will rally again, and surprise my butt in the citadel. Well, I must be rid of my Lady Trincalo, she will be in the fashion else; first, cuckold her husband, and then sue for a separation, to get alimony.
[Exit.
SCENE IV. — The Cypress-trees and Cave.
Enter Ferdinand and Hippolito, with their swords drawn.
Ferd. Come, sir, our cave affords no choice of place, But the ground’s firm and even: Are you ready?
Hip. As ready as yourself, sir.
Ferd. You remember On what conditions we must fight? Who first Receives a wound is to submit.
Hip. Come, come, This loses time; now for the women, sir. [They fight a little, Ferdinand hurts him.
Ferd. Sir, you are wounded.
Hip. No.
Ferd. Believe your blood.
Hip. I feel no hurt, no matter for my blood.
Ferd. Remember our conditions.
Hip. I will not leave, till my sword hits you too.
[Hip. presses on, Ferd. retires and wards.
Ferd. I’m loth to kill you; you are unskilful, sir.
Hip. You beat aside my sword, but let it come As near as yours, and you shall see my skill.
Ferd. You faint for loss of blood, I see you stagger; Pray, sir, retire.
Hip. No! I will ne’er go back. — Methinks the cave turns round, I cannot find —
Ferd. Your eyes begin to dazzle.
Hip. Why do you swim so, and dance about me? Stand but still till I have made one thrust. [Hip. thrusts and falls.
Ferd. O help, help, help! Unhappy man! what have I done?
Hip. I’m going to a cold sleep, but when I wake, I’ll fight again. Pray stay for me. [Swoons.
Ferd. He’s gone! He’s gone! O stay, sweet, lovely youth! Help! help!
Enter Prospero.
Prosp. What dismal noise is that?
Ferd. O see, sir, see, What mischief my unhappy hand has wrought!
Prosp. Alas! how much in vain doth feeble art Endeavour to resist the will of heaven? [Rubs Hip.
He’s gone for ever; O thou cruel son Of an inhuman father! all my designs Are ruined and unravelled by this blow. No pleasure now is left me but revenge.
Ferd. Sir, if you knew my innocence —
Prosp. Peace, peace! Can thy excuses give me back his life? What, Ariel? sluggish spirit, where art thou?
Enter Ariel.
Ariel. Here, at thy beck, my lord.
Prosp. Ay, now thou comest, When fate is past, and not to be recalled. Look there, and glut the malice of thy nature; For, as thou art thyself, thou canst not but Be glad to see young virtue nipt i’ the blossom.
Ariel. My lord, the Being, high above, can witness, I am not glad; we airy spirits are not of A temper so malicious as the earthy, But of a nature more approaching good. For which we meet in swarms, and often combat Betwixt the confines of the air and earth.
Prosp. Why didst thou not prevent, at least foretel, This fatal action then?
Ariel. Pardon, great sir, I meant to do it, but I was forbidden By the ill genius of Hippolito, Who came and threatened me, if I disclosed it, To bind me in the bottom of the sea, Far from the lightsome regions of the air, (My native fields) above a hundred years.
Prosp. I’ll chain thee in the north for thy neglect, Within the burning bowels of Mount Hecla; I’ll singe thy airy wings with sulph’rous flames, And choke thy tender nostrils with blue smoke; At ev’ry hickup of the belching mountain, Thou shalt be lifted up to taste fresh air, And then fall down again.
Ariel. Pardon, dread lord.
Prosp. No more of pardon than just heaven intends thee, Shalt thou e’er find from me: Hence! fly with speed, Unbind the charms which hold this murderer’s father, And bring him, with my brother, straight before me.
Ariel. Mercy, my potent lord! and I’ll outfly Thy thought. [Exit Ariel.
Ferd. O heavens! what words are these I heard, Yet cannot see who spoke ‘em? Sure the woman Whom I loved was like this, some airy vision.
Prosp. No, murderer! she’s, like thee, of mortal mould, But much too pure to mix with thy black crimes; Yet she has faults, and must be punished for them. Miranda and Dorinda! where are ye? The will of heaven’s accomplished: I have now No more to fear, and nothing left to hope; Now you may enter.
Enter Miranda and Dorinda.
Mir. My love! is it permitted me to see You once again?
Prosp. You come to look your last; I will for ever take him from your eyes. But, on my blessing, speak not, nor approach him.
Dor. Pray, father, is not this my sister’s man? He has a noble form; but yet he’s not So excellent as my Hippolito.
Prosp. Alas, poor girl! thou hast no man: Look yonder; There’s all of him that’s left.
Dor. Why, was there ever any more of him? He lies asleep, sir; shall I waken him? [She kneels by Hippolito, and jogs him.
Ferd. Alas! he’s never to be waked again.
Dor. My love, my love! wilt thou not speak to me? I fear you have displeased him, sir, and now He will not answer me; he’s dumb and cold too; But I’ll run straight, and make a fire to warm him. [Exit Dorinda, running.
Enter Alonzo, Gonzalo, Antonio; and Ariel invisible.
Alon. Never were beasts so hunted into toils, As we have been pursued by dreadful shapes. — But is not that my son? O Ferdinand! If thou art not a ghost, let me embrace thee.
Ferd. My father! O sinister happiness! Is it decreed I should recover you Alive, just in that fatal hour, when this Brave youth is lost in death, and by my hand?
Ant. Heaven! what new wonder’s this?
Gonz. This isle is full of nothing else.
Prosp. You stare upon me, as you ne’er had seen me; Have fifteen years so lost me to your knowledge, That you retain no memory of Prospero?
Gonz. The good old duke of Milan!
Prosp. I wonder less, That thou, Antonio, knowest me not, because Thou didst long since forget I was thy brother Else I had ne’er been here.
Ant. Shame choaks my words.
Alonz. And wonder mine.
Prosp. For you, usurping prince, [To Alonz.
Know, by my art you were shipwrecked on this isle, Where, after I a while had punished you, My vengeance would have ended; I designed To match that son of yours with this my daughter.
Alonz. Pursue it still, I am most willing to it.
Prosp. So am not I. No marriages can prosper, Which are with murderers made; look on that corpse. This, whilst he lived, was young Hippolito; That infant duke of Mantua, sir, whom you Exposed with me; and here I bred him up, Till that blood-thirsty man, that Ferdinand —— But why do I exclaim on him, when justice Calls to unsheath her sword against his guilt?
Alonz. What do you mean?
Prosp. To execute heaven’s laws. Here I am placed by heaven, here I am prince, Though you have dispossessed me of my Milan. Though you have dispossessed me of my Milan. Blood calls for blood; your Ferdinand shall die, And I, in bitterness, have sent for you, To have the sudden joy of seeing him alive, And then the greater grief to see him die.
Alonz. And think’st thou I, or these, will tamely stand, To view the execution? [Lays hand upon his sword.
Ferd. Hold, dear father! I cannot suffer you to attempt against His life, who gave her being, whom I love.
Prosp. Nay, then appear my guards — I thought no more To use their aid; (I’m cursed because I used it.) [He stamps, and many Spirits appear.
But they are now the ministers of heaven, Whilst I revenge this murder.
Alonz. Have I for this Found thee, my son, so soon again to lose thee? Antonio, Gonzalo, speak for pity.
Ferd. Adieu, my fairest mistress. [To Mir.
Mir. Now I can hold no l
onger; I must speak, Though I am loth to disobey you, sir: Be not so cruel to the man I love, Or be so kind to let me suffer with him.
Ferd. Recall that prayer, or I shall wish to live, Though death be all the ‘mends that I can make.
Prosp. This night I will allow you, Ferdinand, To fit you for your death; that cave’s your prison.
Alonz. Ah, Prospero! hear me speak. You are a father: — Look on my age, and look upon his youth.
Prosp. No more! all you can say is urged in vain, I have no room for pity left within me. Do you refuse? help, Ariel, with your fellows, To drive them in; Alonzo and his son Bestow in yonder cave, and here Gonzalo Shall with Antonio lodge. [Spirits drive them in, as they are appointed.
Enter Dorinda.
Dor. Sir, I have made a fire; shall he be warmed?
Prosp. He’s dead, and vital warmth will ne’er return.
Dor. Dead, sir! what’s that?
Prosp. His soul has left his body.
Dor. When will it come again?
Prosp. O never, never! He must be laid in earth, and there consume.
Dor. He shall not lie in earth; you do not know How well he loves me: Indeed he’ll come again. He told me he would go a little while, But promised me he would not tarry long.
Prosp. He’s murdered by the man who loved your sister. Now both of you may see what ’tis to break A father’s precept; you would needs see man, And by that sight are made for ever wretched; Hippolito is dead, and Ferdinand Must die for murdering him.
Mir. Have you no pity?
Prosp. Your disobedience has so much incensed me, That I this night can leave no blessing with you. Help to convey the body to my couch, Then leave me to mourn over it alone. [They bear off the body of Hip.
Enter Miranda and Dorinda again. Ariel behind them.
Ariel. I’ve been so chid for my neglect by Prospero, That I must now watch all, and be unseen.
Mir. Sister, I say again, ’twas long of you, That all this mischief happened.
Dor. Blame not me For your own fault; your curiosity Brought me to see the man.
Mir. You safely might Have seen him, and retired, but you would needs Go near him, and converse; you may remember My father called me thence, and I called you.
Dor. That was your envy, sister, not your love; You called me thence, because you could not be Alone with him yourself; but I am sure My man had never gone to heaven so soon, But that yours made him go. [Crying.