Complete Plays, The (55 page)

Ferdinand

I warrant you sir;
The white cold virgin snow upon my heart
Abates the ardour of my liver.

Prospero

Well.
Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary,
Rather than want a spirit: appear and pertly!
No tongue! all eyes! be silent.

Soft music

Enter Iris

Iris

Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats and pease;
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
And flat meads thatch’d with stover, them to keep;
Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims,
Which spongy April at thy hest betrims,
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom -groves,
Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,
Being lass-lorn: thy pole-clipt vineyard;
And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard,
Where thou thyself dost air;— the queen o’ the sky,
Whose watery arch and messenger am I,
Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace,
Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,
To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain:
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.

Enter Ceres

Ceres

Hail, many-colour’d messenger, that ne’er
Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;
Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers
Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers,
And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown
My bosky acres and my unshrubb’d down,
Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy queen
Summon’d me hither, to this short-grass’d green?

Iris

A contract of true love to celebrate;
And some donation freely to estate
On the blest lovers.

Ceres

Tell me, heavenly bow,
If Venus or her son, as thou dost know,
Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot
The means that dusky Dis my daughter got,
Her and her blind boy’s scandal’d company
I have forsworn.

Iris

 
Of her society
Be not afraid: I met her deity
Cutting the clouds towards Paphos and her son
Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done
Some wanton charm upon this man and maid,
Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid
Till Hymen’s torch be lighted: but vain;
Mars’s hot minion is returned again;
Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,
Swears he will shoot no more but play with sparrows
And be a boy right out.

Ceres

High’st queen of state,
Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait.

Enter Juno

Juno

How does my bounteous sister? Go with me
To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be
And honour’d in their issue.

They sing:

Juno

 
Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,
Long continuance, and increasing,
Hourly joys be still upon you!
Juno sings her blessings upon you.

Ceres

 
Earth’s increase, foison plenty,
Barns and garners never empty,
Vines and clustering bunches growing,
Plants with goodly burthen bowing;
Spring come to you at the farthest
In the very end of harvest!
Scarcity and want shall shun you;
Ceres’ blessing so is on you.

Ferdinand

This is a most majestic vision, and
Harmoniously charmingly. May I be bold
To think these spirits?

Prospero

Spirits, which by mine art
I have from their confines call’d to enact
My present fancies.

Ferdinand

Let me live here ever;
So rare a wonder’d father and a wife
Makes this place Paradise.

Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment

Prospero

Sweet, now, silence!
Juno and Ceres whisper seriously;
There’s something else to do: hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marr’d.

Iris

You nymphs, call’d Naiads, of the windring brooks,
With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks,
Leave your crisp channels and on this green land
Answer your summons; Juno does command:
Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
A contract of true love; be not too late.

Enter certain Nymphs

You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,
Come hither from the furrow and be merry:
Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
In country footing.

Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards the end whereof Prospero starts suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused noise, they heavily vanish

Prospero

[Aside]
 
I had forgot that foul conspiracy
Of the beast Caliban and his confederates
Against my life: the minute of their plot
Is almost come.

To the Spirits

Well done! avoid; no more!

Ferdinand

This is strange: your father’s in some passion
That works him strongly.

Miranda

Never till this day
Saw I him touch’d with anger so distemper’d.

Prospero

You do look, my son, in a moved sort,
As if you were dismay’d: be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex’d;
Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled:
Be not disturb’d with my infirmity:
If you be pleased, retire into my cell
And there repose: a turn or two I’ll walk,
To still my beating mind.

Ferdinand

Miranda

We wish your peace.

Exeunt

Prospero

Come with a thought I thank thee, Ariel: come.

Enter Ariel

Ariel

Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?

Prospero

Spirit,
We must prepare to meet with Caliban.

Ariel

Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres,
I thought to have told thee of it, but I fear’d
Lest I might anger thee.

Prospero

Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?

Ariel

I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;
So fun of valour that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces; beat the ground
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project. Then I beat my tabour;
At which, like unback’d colts, they prick’d their ears,
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses
As they smelt music: so I charm’d their ears
That calf-like they my lowing follow’d through
Tooth’d briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns,
Which entered their frail shins: at last I left them
I’ the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,
There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake
O’erstunk their feet.

Prospero

This was well done, my bird.
Thy shape invisible retain thou still:
The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither,
For stale to catch these thieves.

Ariel

I go, I go.

Exit

Prospero

A devil, a born devil, on whose nature
Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;
And as with age his body uglier grows,
So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,
Even to roaring.

Re-enter Ariel, loaden with glistering apparel, & c

Come, hang them on this line.

Prospero and Ariel remain invisible. Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet

Caliban

Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not
Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell.

Stephano

Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, has done little better than played the Jack with us.

Trinculo

Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at which my nose is in great indignation.

Stephano

So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take a displeasure against you, look you,—

Trinculo

Thou wert but a lost monster.

Caliban

Good my lord, give me thy favour still.
Be patient, for the prize I’ll bring thee to
Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly.
All’s hush’d as midnight yet.

Trinculo

Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,—

Stephano

There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, monster, but an infinite loss.

Trinculo

That’s more to me than my wetting: yet this is your harmless fairy, monster.

Stephano

I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er ears for my labour.

Caliban

Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here,
This is the mouth o’ the cell: no noise, and enter.
Do that good mischief which may make this island
Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,
For aye thy foot-licker.

Stephano

Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts.

Trinculo

O king Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look what a wardrobe here is for thee!

Caliban

Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.

Trinculo

O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery.
O king Stephano!

Stephano

Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I’ll have that gown.

Trinculo

Thy grace shall have it.

Caliban

The dropsy drown this fool I what do you mean
To dote thus on such luggage? Let’s alone
And do the murder first: if he awake,
From toe to crown he’ll fill our skins with pinches,
Make us strange stuff.

Stephano

Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair and prove a bald jerkin.

Trinculo

Do, do: we steal by line and level, an’t like your grace.

Stephano

I thank thee for that jest; here’s a garment for’t: wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this country. ‘Steal by line and level’ is an excellent pass of pate; there’s another garment for’t.

Trinculo

Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and away with the rest.

Caliban

I will have none on’t: we shall lose our time,
And all be turn’d to barnacles, or to apes
With foreheads villanous low.

Stephano

Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this away where my hogshead of wine is, or I’ll turn you out of my kingdom: go to, carry this.

Trinculo

And this.

Stephano

Ay, and this.

A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of dogs and hounds, and hunt them about, Prospero and Ariel setting them on

Prospero

Hey, Mountain, hey!

Ariel

Silver I there it goes, Silver!

Prospero

Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark! hark!

Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, are driven out

Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints
With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews
With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them
Than pard or cat o’ mountain.

Ariel

Hark, they roar!

Prospero

Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour
Lie at my mercy all mine enemies:
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little
Follow, and do me service.

Exeunt

A
CT
V

S
CENE
I. B
EFORE
P
ROSPERO
’
S
CELL
.

Enter Prospero in his magic robes, and Ariel

Prospero

Now does my project gather to a head:
My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time
Goes upright with his carriage. How’s the day?

Ariel

On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,
You said our work should cease.

Prospero

I did say so,
When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,
How fares the king and’s followers?

Ariel

Confined together
In the same fashion as you gave in charge,
Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,
In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell;
They cannot budge till your release. The king,
His brother and yours, abide all three distracted
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly
Him that you term’d, sir, ‘The good old lord Gonzalo;’
His tears run down his beard, like winter’s drops
From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works ’em
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.

Prospero

Dost thou think so, spirit?

Ariel

Mine would, sir, were I human.

Prospero

And mine shall.
Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,
Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art?
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,
Yet with my nobler reason ’gaitist my fury
Do I take part: the rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel:
My charms I’ll break, their senses I’ll restore,
And they shall be themselves.