father's express command she did so.
Prospero only smiled at this first instance of his daughter's
disobedience, for having by his magic art caused his daughter to fall
in love so suddenly, he was not angry that she showed her love by
forgetting to obey his commands. And he listened well pleased to a
long speech of Ferdinand's, in which he professed to love her above
all the ladies he ever saw.
In answer to his praises of her beauty, which he said exceeded all the
women in the world, she replied, "I do not remember the face of any
woman, nor have I seen any more men than you, my good friend, and my
dear father. How features are abroad, I know not; but, believe me,
sir, I would not wish any companion in the world but you, nor can my
imagination form any shape but yours that I could like. But, sir, I
fear I talk to you too freely, and my father's precepts I forget."
At this Prospero smiled, and nodded his head, as much as to say, "This
goes on exactly as I could wish; my girl will be queen of Naples."
And then Ferdinand, in another fine long speech (for young princes
speak in courtly phrases), told the innocent Miranda he was heir to
the crown of Naples, and that she should be his queen.
"Ah! sir," said she, "I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of. I will
answer you in plain and holy innocence. I am your wife if you will
marry me."
Prospero prevented Ferdinand's thanks by appearing visible before
them.
"Fear nothing, my child," said he; "I have overheard, and approve of
all you have said. And, Ferdinand, if I have too severely used you, I
will make you rich amends, by giving you my daughter. All your
vexations were but trials of your love, and you have nobly stood the
test. Then as my gift, which your true love has worthily purchased,
take my daughter, and do not smile that I boast she is above all
praise." He then, telling them that he had business which required his
presence, desired they would sit down and talk together till he
returned; and this command Miranda seemed not at all disposed to
disobey.
When Prospero left them, he called his spirit Ariel, who quickly
appeared before him, eager to relate what he had done with Prospero's
brother and the king of Naples. Ariel said he had left them almost out
of their senses with fear, at the strange things he had caused them to
see and hear. When fatigued with wandering about, and famished for
want of food, he had suddenly set before them a delicious banquet, and
then, just as they were going to eat, he appeared visible before them
in the shape of a harpy, a voracious monster with wings, and the
feast vanished away. Then, to their utter amazement, this seeming
harpy spoke to them, reminding them of their cruelty in driving
Prospero from his dukedom, and leaving him and his infant daughter to
perish in the sea; saying, that for this cause these terrors were
suffered to afflict them.
The king of Naples, and Antonio the false brother, repented the
injustice they had done to Prospero: and Ariel told his master he was
certain their penitence was sincere, and that he, though a spirit,
could not but pity them.
"Then bring them hither, Ariel," said Prospero: "if you, who are but a
spirit, feel for their distress, shall not I, who am a human being
like themselves, have compassion on them? Bring them, quickly, my
dainty Ariel."
Ariel soon returned with the king, Antonio, and old Gonzalo in their
train, who had followed him, wondering at the wild music he played in
the air to draw them on to his master's presence. This Gonzalo was the
same who had so kindly provided Prospero formerly with books and
provisions, when his wicked brother left him, as he thought, to perish
in an open boat in the sea.
Grief and terror had so stupefied their senses, that they did not know
Prospero. He first discovered himself to the good old Gonzalo, calling
him the preserver of his life; and then his brother and the king knew
that he was the injured Prospero.
Antonio with tears, and sad words of sorrow and true repentance,
implored his brother's forgiveness, and the king expressed his sincere
remorse for having assisted Antonio to depose his brother: and
Prospero forgave them; and, upon their engaging to restore his
dukedom, he said to the king of Naples, "I have a gift in store for
you too;" and opening a door, showed him his son Ferdinand playing at
chess with Miranda.
Nothing could exceed the joy of the father and the son at this
unexpected meeting, for they each thought the other drowned in the
storm.
"O wonder!" said Miranda, "what noble creatures these are! It must
surely be a brave world that has such people in it."
The king of Naples was almost as much astonished at the beauty and
excellent graces of the young Miranda, as his son had been. "Who is
this maid?" said he; "she seems the goddess that has parted us, and
brought us thus together." "No, sir," answered Ferdinand, smiling to
find his father had fallen into the same mistake that he had done when
he first saw Miranda, "she is a mortal, but by immortal Providence she
is mine; I chose her when I could not ask you, my father, for your
consent, not thinking you were alive. She is the daughter to this
Prospero, who is the famous duke of Milan, of whose renown I have
heard so much, but never saw him till now: of him I have received a
new life: he has made himself to me a second father, giving me this
dear lady."
"Then I must be her father," said the king; "but oh! how oddly will it
sound, that I must ask my child forgiveness."
"No more of that," said Prospero: "let us not remember our troubles
past, since they so happily have ended." And then Prospero embraced
his brother, and again assured him of his forgiveness; and said that a
wise overruling Providence had permitted that he should be driven from
his poor dukedom of Milan, that his daughter might inherit the crown
of Naples, for that by their meeting in this desert island, it had
happened that the king's son had loved Miranda.
These kind words which Prospero spoke, meaning to comfort his brother,
so filled Antonio with shame and remorse, that he wept and was unable
to speak; and the kind old Gonzalo wept to see this joyful
reconciliation, and prayed for blessings on the young couple.
Prospero now told them that their ship was safe in the harbor, and the
sailors all on board her, and that he and his daughter would accompany
them home the next morning. "In the meantime," says he, "partake of
such refreshments as my poor cave affords; and for your evening's
entertainment I will relate the history of my life from my first
landing in this desert island." He then called for Caliban to prepare
some food, and set the cave in order; and the company were astonished
at the uncouth form and savage appearance of this ugly monster, who
(Prospero said) was the only attendant he had to wait upon him.
Before Prospero left the island, he dismissed Ariel from his service,
to the great joy of that lively little spirit; who, though he had been
a faithful servant to his master, was always longing to enjoy his free
liberty, to wander uncontrolled in the air, like a wild bird, under
green trees, among pleasant fruits, and sweet-smelling flowers. "My
quaint Ariel," said Prospero to the little sprite when he made him
free, "I shall miss you; yet you shall have your freedom." "Thank you,
my dear master," said Ariel; "but give me leave to attend your ship
home with prosperous gales, before you bid farewell to the assistance
of your faithful spirit; and then, master, when I am free, how merrily
I shall live!" Here Ariel sung this pretty song:
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
In a cowslip's bell I lie:
There I crouch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly
After summer Merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough."
Prospero then buried deep in the earth his magical books and wand, for
he was resolved never more to make use of the magic art. And having
thus overcome his enemies, and being reconciled to his brother and the
king of Naples, nothing now remained to complete his happiness, but to
revisit his native land, to take possession of his dukedom, and to
witness the happy nuptials of his daughter and Prince Ferdinand, which
the king said should be instantly celebrated with great splendor on
their return to Naples. At which place, under the safe convoy of the
spirit Ariel, they, after a pleasant voyage, soon arrived.
II
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM
There was a law in the city of Athens which gave to its citizens the
power of compelling their daughters to marry whomsoever they pleased;
for upon a daughter's refusing to marry the man her father had chosen
to be her husband, the father was empowered by this law to cause her
to be put to death; but as fathers do not often desire the death of
their own daughters, even though they do happen to prove a little
refractory, this law was seldom or never put in execution, though
perhaps the young ladies of that city were not unfrequently threatened
by their parents with the terrors of it.
There was one instance, however, of an old man, whose name was Egeus,
who actually did come before Theseus (at that time the reigning duke
of Athens), to complain that his daughter Hermia, whom he had
commanded to marry Demetrius, a young man of a noble Athenian family,
refused to obey him, because she loved another young Athenian, named
Lysander. Egeus demanded justice of Theseus, and desired that this
cruel law might be put in force against his daughter.
Hermia pleaded in excuse for her disobedience, that Demetrius had
formerly professed love for her dear friend Helena, and that Helena
loved Demetrius to distraction; but this honorable reason, which
Hermia gave for not obeying her father's command, moved not the stern
Egeus.
Theseus, though a great and merciful prince, had no power to alter the
laws of his country; therefore he could only give Hermia four days to
consider of it: and at the end of that time, if she still refused to
marry Demetrius, she was to be put to death.
When Hermia was dismissed from the presence of the duke, she went to
her lover Lysander, and told him the peril she was in, and that she
must either give him up and marry Demetrius, or lose her life in four
days.
Lysander was in great affliction at hearing these evil tidings; but
recollecting that he had an aunt who lived at some distance from
Athens, and that at the place where she lived the cruel law could not
be put in force against Hermia (this law not extending beyond the
boundaries of the city), he proposed to Hermia that she should steal
out of her father's house that night, and go with him to his aunt's
house, where he would marry her. "I will meet you," said Lysander, "in
the wood a few miles without the city; in that delightful wood where
we have so often walked with Helena in the pleasant month of May."
To this proposal Hermia joyfully agreed; and she told no one of her
intended flight but her friend Helena. Helena (as maidens will do
foolish things for love) very ungenerously resolved to go and tell
this to Demetrius, though she could hope no benefit from betraying her
friend's secret, but the poor pleasure of following her faithless
lover to the wood: for she well knew that Demetrius would go thither
in pursuit of Hermia.
The wood in which Lysander and Hermia proposed to meet, was the
favorite haunt of those little beings known by the name of _Fairies_.
Oberon the king, and Titania the queen of the Fairies, with all their
tiny train of followers, in this wood held their midnight revels.
Between this little king and queen of sprites there happened, at this
time, a sad disagreement: they never met by moonlight in the shady
walks of this pleasant wood, but they were quarreling, till all their
fairy elves would creep into acorn-cups and hide themselves for fear.
The cause of this unhappy disagreement was Titania's refusing to give
Oberon a little changeling boy, whose mother had been Titania's
friend; and upon her death the fairy queen stole the child from its
nurse, and brought him up in the woods.
The night on which the lovers were to meet in this wood, as Titania
was walking with some of her maids of honor, she met Oberon attended
by his train of fairy courtiers.
"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania," said the fairy king. The queen
replied, "What, jealous Oberon, is it you? Fairies, skip hence; I have
forsworn his company." "Tarry, rash fairy," said Oberon; "am not I thy
lord? Why does Titania cross her Oberon? Give me your little
changeling boy to be my page."
"Set your heart at rest," answered the queen; "your whole fairy
kingdom buys not the boy of me." She then left her lord in great
anger. "Well, go your way," said Oberon: "before the morning dawns I
will torment you for this injury."
Oberon then sent for Puck, his chief favorite and privy counselor.
Puck (or as he was sometimes called, Robin Goodfellow) was a shrewd
and knavish sprite, that used to play comical pranks in the
neighboring villages; sometimes getting into the dairies and skimming
the milk, sometimes plunging his light and airy form into the
butter-churn, and while he was dancing his fantastic shape in the
churn, in vain the dairy-maid would labor to change her cream into
butter: nor had the village swains any better success; whenever Puck
chose to play his freaks in the brewing copper, the ale was sure to be
spoiled. When a few good neighbors were met to drink some comfortable
ale together, Puck would jump into the bowl of ale in the likeness of
a roasted crab, and when some old goody was going to drink he would
bob against her lips, and spill the ale over her withered chin; and
presently after, when the same old dame was gravely seating herself to
tell her neighbors a sad and melancholy story, Puck would slip her
three-legged stool from under her, and down toppled the poor old
woman, and then the old gossips would hold their sides and laugh at
her, and swear they never wasted a merrier hour.
"Come hither, Puck," said Oberon to this little merry wanderer of the
night; "fetch me the flower which maids call _Love in Idleness_; the
juice of that little purple flower laid on the eyelids of those who
sleep, will make them, when they awake, dote on the first thing they
see. Some of the juice of that flower I will drop on the eyelids of my
Titania when she is asleep; and the first thing she looks upon when
she opens her eyes she will fall in love with, even though it be a
lion or a bear, a meddling monkey, or a busy ape; and before I will
take this charm from off her sight, which I can do with another charm
I know of, I will make her give me that boy to be my page."
Puck, who loved mischief to his heart, was highly diverted with this
intended frolic of his master, and ran to seek the flower; and while
Oberon was waiting the return of Puck, he observed Demetrius and
Helena enter the wood: he overheard Demetrius reproaching Helena for
following him, and after many unkind words on his part, and gentle
expostulations from Helena, reminding him of his former love and
professions of true faith to her, he left her (as he said) to the
mercy of the wild beasts, and she ran after him as swiftly as she
could.
The fairy king, who was always friendly to true lovers, felt great
compassion for Helena; and perhaps, as Lysander said they used to walk
by moonlight in this pleasant wood, Oberon might have seen Helena in
those happy times when she was beloved by Demetrius. However that
might be, when Puck returned with the little purple flower, Oberon
said to his favorite, "Take a part of this flower; there has been a
sweet Athenian lady here, who is in love with a disdainful youth; if
you find him sleeping, drop some of the love-juice in his eyes, but
contrive to do it when she is near him, that the first thing he sees
when he awakes may be this despised lady. You will know the man by the
Athenian garments which he wears." Puck promised to manage this matter
very dexterously: and then Oberon went, unperceived by Titania, to her
bower, where she was preparing to go to rest. Her fairy bower was a
bank, where grew wild thyme, cowslips, and sweet violets, under a
canopy of woodbine, musk-roses, and eglantine. There Titania always
slept some part of the night; her coverlet the enameled skin of a
snake, which, though a small mantle, was wide enough to wrap a fairy
in.
He found Titania giving orders to her fairies, how they were to employ
themselves while she slept. "Some of you," said her majesty, "must
kill cankers in the musk-rose buds, and some wage war with the bats
for their leathern wings, to make my small elves coats; and some of
you keep watch that the clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, come not
near me: but first sing me to sleep. Then they began to sing this
song:
"You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blindworms do no wrong,
Come not near our Fairy Queen.
Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby;
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So good night with lullaby."
When the fairies had sung their queen asleep with this pretty lullaby,
they left her to perform the important services she had enjoined them.
Oberon then softly drew near his Titania, and dropped some of the
love-juice on her eyelids, saying,
"What thou seest when them dost wake,
Do it for thy true-love take."
But to return to Hermia, who made her escape out of her father's house
that night, to avoid the death she was doomed to for refusing to marry
Demetrius. When she entered the wood, she found her dear Lysander
waiting for her, to conduct her to his aunt's house; but before they
had passed half through the wood, Hermia was so much fatigued, that
Lysander, who was very careful of this dear lady, who had proved her
affection for him even by hazarding her life for his sake, persuaded
her to rest till morning on a bank of soft moss, and lying down
himself on the ground at some little distance, they soon fell fast
asleep. Here they were found by Puck, who, seeing a handsome young man
asleep, and perceiving that his clothes were made in the Athenian
fashion, and that a pretty lady was sleeping near him, concluded that
this must be the Athenian maid and her disdainful lover whom Oberon
had sent him to seek; and he naturally enough conjectured that, as
they were alone together, she must be the first thing he would see
when he awoke; so, without more ado, he proceeded to pour some of the
juice of the little purple flower into his eyes. But it so fell out,
that Helena came that way, and, instead of Hermia, was the first
object Lysander beheld when he opened his eyes; and strange to relate,
so powerful was the love-charm, all his love for Hermia vanished away,
and Lysander fell in love with Helena.
Had he first seen Hermia when he awoke, the blunder Puck committed
would have been of no consequence, for he could not love that faithful
lady too well; but for poor Lysander to be forced by a fairy
love-charm, to forget his own true Hermia, and to run after another
lady, and leave Hermia asleep quite alone in a wood at midnight, was a
sad chance indeed.
Thus this misfortune happened. Helena, as has been before related,
endeavored to keep pace with Demetrius when he ran away so rudely from
her; but she could not continue this unequal race long, men being
always better runners in a long race than ladies. Helena soon lost
sight of Demetrius; and as she was wandering about, dejected and
forlorn, she arrived at the place where Lysander was sleeping. "Ah!"
said she, "this is Lysander lying on the ground: is he dead or
asleep?" Then, gently touching him, she said, "Good sir, if you are
alive, awake." Upon this Lysander opened his eyes, and (the love-charm
beginning to work) immediately addressed her in terms of extravagant
love and admiration; telling her she as much excelled Hermia in beauty
as a dove does a raven, and that he would run through fire for her
sweet sake; and many more such lover-like speeches. Helena, knowing
Lysander was her friend Hermia's lover, and that he was solemnly
engaged to marry her, was in the utmost rage when she heard herself
addressed in this manner; for she thought (as well she might) that
Lysander was making a jest of her. "Oh!" said she, "why was I born to
be mocked and scorned by every one? Is it not enough, is it not
enough, young man, that I can never get a sweet look or a kind word
from Demetrius; but you, sir, must pretend in this disdainful manner
to court me? I thought, Lysander, you were a lord of more true
gentleness." Saying these words in great anger, she ran away; and
Lysander followed her, quite forgetful of his own Hermia, who was
still asleep.
When Hermia awoke, she was in a sad fright at finding herself alone.
She wandered about the wood, not knowing what was become of Lysander,
or which way to go to seek for him. In the meantime Demetrius not
being able to find Hermia and his rival Lysander, and fatigued with
his fruitless search, was observed by Oberon fast asleep. Oberon had
learnt by some questions he had asked of Puck, that he had applied the
love-charm to the wrong person's eyes; and now having found the person
first intended, he touched the eyelids of the sleeping Demetrius with
the love-juice, and he instantly awoke; and the first thing he saw
being Helena, he, as Lysander had done before, began to address
love-speeches to her; and just as that moment Lysander, followed by
Hermia (for through Puck's unlucky mistake it was now become Hermia's
turn to run after her lover), made his appearance; and then Lysander
and Demetrius, both speaking together, made love to Helena, they being
each one under the influence of the same potent charm.
The astonished Helena thought that Demetrius, Lysander, and her once
dear friend Hermia, were all in a plot together to make a jest of her.
Hermia was as much surprised as Helena: she knew not why Lysander and
Demetrius, who both before loved her, were now become the lovers of
Helena; and to Hermia the matter seemed to be no jest.
The ladies, who before had always been the dearest of friends, now
fell to high words together.
"Unkind Hermia," said Helena, "it is you who have set Lysander to vex
me with mock praises; and your other lover Demetrius, who used almost
to spurn me with his foot, have you not bid him call me Goddess,
Nymph, rare, precious, and celestial? He would not speak thus to me,
whom he hates, if you did not set him on to make a jest of me. Unkind
Hermia, to join with men in scorning your poor friend. Have you forgot
our school-day friendship? How often, Hermia, have we two, sitting on
one cushion, both singing one song, with our needles working the same
flower, both on the same sampler wrought; growing up together in
fashion of a double cherry, scarcely seeming parted! Hermia, it is not
friendly in you, it is not maidenly to join with men in scorning your
poor friend."
"I am amazed at your passionate words," said Hermia: "I scorn you not;
it seems you scorn me." "Ay, do," returned Helena, "persevere,
counterfeit serious looks, and make mouths at me when I turn my back;
then wink at each other, and hold the sweet jest up. If you had any
pity, grace, or manners, you would not use me thus."
While Helena and Hermia were speaking these angry words to each other,
Demetrius and Lysander left them, to fight together in the wood for
the love of Helena.
When they found the gentlemen had left them, they departed, and once
more wandered weary in the wood in search of their lovers.