ACT II

SCENE 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 escape Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common; every day, some sailor's wife, The masters of some merchant and the merchant, Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh Our 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.

GONZALOWhen every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer—

SEBASTIANA dollar.

GONZALODolour comes to him, indeed: you have 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 good wager, first begins to crow?

SEBASTIANThe old cock.

ANTONIOThe cockerel.

SEBASTIANDone. The wager?

ANTONIOA laughter.

SEBASTIANA match!

ADRIANThough this island seem to be desert,—

ANTONIOHa, ha, ha!

SEBASTIANSo. You're paid.

ADRIANUninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,—

SEBASTIANYet—

ADRIANYet—

ANTONIOHe could not miss 't.

ADRIANIt must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.

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 perfum'd 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 almost beyond credit,—

SEBASTIANAs many vouch'd rarities are.

GONZALOThat our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water.

ANTONIOIf but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies?

SEBASTIANAy, or very falsely pocket up his report.

GONZALOMethinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the 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 to their 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!

ADRIANWidow 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.

ANTONIOHis word is more than the miraculous harp.

SEBASTIANHe hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.

ANTONIOWhat impossible matter will he make easy next?

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

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

ALONSOAy.

ANTONIOWhy, in good time.

GONZALO[To Alonso.] Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of 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 I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

ANTONIOThat sort was well fish'd for.

GONZALOWhen I wore it at your daughter's marriage?

ALONSOYou cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense. Would I had never Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too, Who is so far from Italy removed, I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish Hath 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 breasted The surge most swoln that met him. His bold head 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To th' shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed, As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt He 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 importun'd otherwise By all of us; and the fair soul herself Weigh'd between loathness and obedience at Which end o' th' beam should bow. We have lost your son, I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this business' making, Than we bring men to comfort them. The fault's your own.

ALONSOSo is the dear'st o' th' loss.

GONZALOMy lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness And 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'd 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' th' commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would 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 the beginning.

GONZALOAll things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour; treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of it 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, T' excel the Golden Age.

SEBASTIANSave 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; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.

ANTONIO'Twas you we laughed at.

GONZALOWho in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you. So you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

ANTONIOWhat a blow was there given!

SEBASTIANAn it had not fallen flat-long.

GONZALOYou are gentlemen of brave mettle. You would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in 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 adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

ANTONIOGo sleep, and hear us.

All sleep but Alonso, Sebastian and Antonio

ALONSOWhat, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclin'd 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' th' climate.

SEBASTIANWhy Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not Myself dispos'd 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 methinks I see it in thy face, What thou shouldst be. Th' occasion speaks thee; and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head.

SEBASTIANWhat, art thou waking?

ANTONIODo you not hear me speak?

SEBASTIANI do; and surely It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep.

ANTONIONoble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep—die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking.

SEBASTIANThou dost snore distinctly: There's meaning in thy snores.

ANTONIOI am more serious than my custom; you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o'er.

SEBASTIANWell, I am standing water.

ANTONIOI'll teach you how to flow.

SEBASTIANDo so: to ebb, Hereditary sloth instructs me.

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

SEBASTIANPrithee, say on: The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter from thee, and a birth, indeed Which throes thee much to yield.

ANTONIOThus, sir: Although this lord of weak remembrance, this Who shall be of as little memory When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuaded,— For he's a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade,—the King his son's alive, 'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd As he that sleeps here swims.

SEBASTIANI have no hope That he's undrown'd.

ANTONIOO, out of that "no hope" What great hope have you! No hope that way is Another way so high a hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubts discovery there. Will you grant with me That 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 dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post— The Man i' th' Moon's too slow—till newborn chins Be rough and razorable; she that from whom We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, And by that destiny, to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In 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 regions There is some space.

ANTONIOA space whose ev'ry cubit Seems to cry out "How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake." Say this were death That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no worse Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate As amply and unnecessarily As this Gonzalo. I myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore The mind that I do! What a sleep were this For your advancement! Do you understand me?

SEBASTIANMethinks I do.

ANTONIOAnd how does your content Tender your own good fortune?

SEBASTIANI remember You did supplant your brother Prospero.

ANTONIOTrue. And look how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater than before; my brother's servants Were 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 not This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they And 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 put This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should 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 that We 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 stroke Shall 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 converse apart

Music. Re-enter Ariel, invisible

ARIELMy master through his art foresees the danger That 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-ey'd conspiracy His 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 angels Preserve 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 bellowing Like 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 roar Of 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 shak'd 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 search For my poor son.

GONZALOHeavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' th' island.

ALONSOLead away.

Exit with the others

ARIELProspero my lord shall know what I have done: So, King, go safely on to seek thy son.

Exit

SCENE II. Another part of the island

Enter Caliban with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard

CALIBANAll the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me, And 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 dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but For every trifle are they set upon me, Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me, And after bite me; then like hedgehogs which Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues Do hiss me into madness.

Enter Trinculo

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

TRINCULOHere's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' th' wind. Yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we here? 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 piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a man, and his fins like arms! Warm, o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer: this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by thunderbolt. [Thunder.] Alas, the storm is come again! My best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs 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's funeral. Well, here's my comfort.

Drinks

The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I, The gunner, and his mate, Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, But none of us car'd for Kate: For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a sailor "Go hang!" She lov'd 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: O!

STEPHANOWhat's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon 's with savages and men of Ind? Ha? I have not scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground; and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at' nostrils.

CALIBANThe spirit torments me: O!

STEPHANOThis is some monster of the isle with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him and keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a present 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 the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him. He shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly.

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

STEPHANOCome on your ways. Open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat. Open your mouth. This will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly. [gives Caliban a drink] You cannot tell who's your friend: open your chaps again.

TRINCULOI should know that voice: it should be—but he is drowned; 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 his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. Come. Amen! I will pour some in thy other mouth.

TRINCULOStephano!

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

TRINCULOStephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo—be not afeared—thy good friend Trinculo.

STEPHANOIf thou beest Trinculo, come forth. I'll pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos?

TRINCULOI took him to be kill'd with a thunderstroke. But art thou not drown'd, Stephano? I hope now thou are not drown'd. Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans scap'd!

STEPHANOPrithee, do not turn me about. My stomach is not constant.

CALIBAN[Aside.] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites. That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor. I will kneel to him.

STEPHANOHow didst thou scape? How cam'st thou hither? Swear by this bottle how thou cam'st hither—I escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved o'erboard, by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree with mine own hands, since I was cast 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 a duck, I'll be sworn.

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

TRINCULOO Stephano, hast any more of this?

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

CALIBANHast thou not dropped from heaven?

STEPHANOOut o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the Man in the Moon, when time was.

CALIBANI have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee. My mistress showed me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush.

STEPHANOCome, swear to that. Kiss the book. I will furnish it 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! Well drawn, monster, in good sooth!

CALIBANI'll show thee every fertile inch o' the island; and I will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god.

TRINCULOBy this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster. 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-headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart 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 a poor drunkard!

CALIBANI prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee To clustering filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

STEPHANOI prithee now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the King and all our company else being drowned, we will inherit here. Here, bear my bottle. Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again.

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

TRINCULOA howling monster, a drunken monster.

CALIBANNo more dams I'll make for fish; Nor fetch in firing At requiring, Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish; 'Ban 'Ban, Cacaliban, Has a new master—Get a new man. Freedom, high-day! high-day, freedom! freedom, high-day, freedom!

STEPHANOO brave monster! lead the way.

Exeunt