Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
Barnardo. Who's there?
Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
your selfe
Bar. Long liue the King
* * * * *
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc. This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare. My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose. To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file: you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's play.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
* * * * *
Scanner's Notes:
What this is and isn't. This was taken from a copy of
Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can come in
ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed
text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of
the Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added. So if you don't like that you
can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer
Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are
textual differences between various copies of the first folio. So
there may be differences (other than what I have mentioned above)
between this and other first folio editions. This is due to the
printer's habit of setting the type and running off a number of
copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type
and then continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn't thrown
away but incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the
way it is. The text I have used was a composite of more than 30
different First Folio editions' best pages.
David Reed
=====================================================================
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's First Folio/35 Plays
To the Reader.
This Figure, that thou here feest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut:
Wherein the Grauer had a strife
with Naure, to out-doo the life:
O, could he but haue dravvne his vvit
As vvell in frasse, as he hath hit
Hisface; the Print vvould then surpasse
All, that vvas euer in frasse.
But, since he cannot, Reader, looke
Not on his picture, but his Booke.
B.I.
MR. William
SHAKESPEARES
Comedies,
Histories &
Tragedies,
Published according to the True Original Copies
London
Printed by Ifaac Iaggard, and Ed, Bount. 1623
TO THE MOST NOBLE
AND
INCOMPARABLE PAIRE
OF BRETHREN
WILLIAM
Earle of Pembroke,&c;. Lord Chamberlaine to the
Kings most Excellent Majesty.
A N D
PHILIP
Earle of Montgomery,&c;. Gentleman of his Majesties
Bed-Chamber. Both Knights of the most Noble Order
of the Garter, and our singular good
L O R D S
Right Honourable,
Whilst we studie to be thankful in our particular, for the many
favors we have received from your L.L. we are falne upon the ill
fortune, to mingle two the most diverse things that can bee, feare,
and rashnesse; rashnesse in the enterprize, and feare of the
successe. For, when we valew the places your H.H. sustaine, we
cannot but know their dignity greater, then to descend to the
reading of these trifles: and, while we name them trifles, we have
depriv'd our selves of the defence of our Dedication. But since
your L.L. have beene pleas'd to thinke these trifles some-thing,
heeretofore; and have prosequuted both them, and their Authour
living, with so much favour: we hope, that (they out-living him,
and he not having the fate, common with some, to be exequutor to
his owne writings) you will use the like indulgence toward them,
you have done unto their parent. There is a great difference,
whether any Booke choose his Patrones, or finde them: This hath
done both. For, so much were your L.L. likings of the severall
parts, when they were acted, as before they were published, the
Volume ask'd to be yours. We have but collected them, and done
an office to the dead, to procure his Orphanes, Guardians; without
ambition either of selfe-profit, or fame: onely to keepe the memory
of so worthy a Friend, & Fellow alive, as was our S H A K E S
P E A R E , by humble offer of his playes, to your most noble
patronage. Wherein, as we have justly observed, no man to come
neere your L.L. but with a kind of religious addresse; it hath bin
the height of our care, who are the Presenters, to make the present
worthy of your H.H. by the perfection. But, there we must also
crave our abilities to be considerd, my Lords. We cannot go
beyond our owne powers. Country hands reach foorth milke,
creame, fruites, or what they have : and many Nations (we have
heard) that had not gummes & incense, obtained their requests
with a leavened Cake. It was no fault to approach their Gods, by
what meanes they could: And the most, though meanest, of thins
are made more precious, when they are dedicated to Temples. In
that name therefore, we most humbly consecrate to your H.H.
these remaines of your servant Shakespeare; that what delight is in
them, may be ever your L.L. the reputation his, & the faults ours, if
any be committed, by a payre so carefull to shew their gratitude
both to the living, and the dead, as is.
Your Lordshippes most bounden,
JOHN HEMINGE.
HENRY CONDELL.
To the great Variety of Readers.
From the most able, to him that can but spell : There you are
number'd. We had rather you were weighd. Especially, when the
fate of all Bookes depends upon your capacities : and not of your
heads alone, but of your purses. Well ! It is now publique, & you
wil stand for your priviledges wee know : to read, and censure.
Do so, but buy it first. That doth best commend a Booke, the
Stationer saies. Then, how odde soever your braines be, or your
wisedomes, make your licence the same, and spare not. Judge
your six-pen'orth, your shillings worth, your five shillings worth at
a time, or higher, so you rise to the just rates, and welcome. But,
whatever you do, Buy. Censure will not drive a Trade, or make
the Jacke go. And though you be a Magistrate of wit, and sit on
the Stage at Black-Friers, or the Cock-pit, to arraigne Playes dailie,
know, these Playes have had their triall alreadie, and stood out all
Appeales ; and do now come forth quitted rather by a Decree of
Court, then any purchas'd Letters of commendation.
It had bene a thing, we confesse, worthie to have bene wished, that
the Author himselfe had liv'd to have set forth, and overseen his
owne writings ; But since it hath bin ordain'd otherwise, and he by
death departed from that right, we pray you do not envie his
Friends, the office of their care, and paine, to have collected &
publish'd them; and so to have publish'd them, as where (before)
you were abus'd with diverse stolne, and surreptitious copies,
maimed, and deformed by the frauds and stealthes of injurious
impostors, that expos'd them : even those, are now offer'd to your
view cur'd, and perfect of their limbes; and all the rest, absolute in
their numbers, as he conceived the'. Who, as he was a happie
imitator of Nature, was a most gentle expresser of it. His mind
and hand went together: And what he thought, he uttered with that
easinesse, that wee have scarse received from him a blot in his
papers. But it is not our province, who onely gather his works, and
give them you, to praise him. It is yours that reade him. And there
we hope, to your divers capacities, you will finde enough, both to
draw, and hold you : for his wit can no more lie hid, then it could
be lost. Reade him, therefore; and againe, and againe : And if then
you doe not like him, surely you are in some manifest danger, not
to understand him. And so we leave you to other of his Friends,
whom if you need, can bee your guides : if you neede them not,
you can leade your selves, and others. And such Readers we wish
him.
John Heminge.
Henrie Condell.
A CATALOGVE
of the Seuerall Comedies, Historie, and Tragedies
contained in this Volume
COMEDIES.
The Tempest.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona.
The Merry Wives of Windsor.
Measure for Measure.
The Comedy of Errours.
Much adoo about Nothing
Loves Labour lost.
Midsommer Nights Dreame.
The Merchant of Venice.
As you Like it.
The Taming of the Shrew.
All is well, that Ends well.
Twelfe-Night, or what you will.
The Winters Tale.
HISTORIES.
The Life and Death of King John.
The Life & death of Richard the second.
The First part of King Henry the fourth.
The Second part of K. Henry the fourth.
The Life of King Henry the Fift.
The First part of King Henry the Sixt.
The Second part of King Hen. the Sixt.
The Third part of King Henry the Sixt.
The Life and Death of Richard the Third
The Life of King Henry the Eight.
TRAGEDIES.
The Tragedy of Coriolanus.
Titus Andronicus.
Romeo and Juliet.
Timon of Athens.
The Life and death of Julius Caesar.
The Tragedy of Macbeth.
The Tragedy of Hamlet.
King Lear.
Othello, the Moore of Venice.
Anthony and Cleopater.
Cymbeline King of Britaine.
To the memory of my beloved,
The Author
MR. W I L L I A M S H A K E S P E A R E :
A N D
what he hath left us.
To draw no envy (Shakespeare) on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy Booke, and Fame;
While I confesse thy writings to be such,
As neither Man, nor Muse, can praise too much.
'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these wayes
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;
For seeliest Ignorance on these may light,
Which, when it sounds at best, but eccho's right;
Or blinde Affection, which doth ne're advance
The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
Or crafty Malice, might pretend this praise,
And thine to ruine, where it seem'd to raise.
These are, as some infamous Baud, or Whore,
Should praise a Matron. What could hurt her more?
But thou art proofe against them, and indeed
Above th' ill fortune of them, or the need.
I, therefore will begin. Soule of the Age !
The applause ! delight ! the wonder of our Stage !
My Shakespeare, rise; I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lye
A little further, to make thee a roome :
Thou art a Moniment, without a tombe,
And art alive still, while thy Booke doth live,
And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
That I not mixe thee so, my braine excuses ;
I meane with great, but disproportion'd Muses :
For, if I thought my judgement were of yeeres,
I should commit thee surely with thy peeres,
And tell, how farre thou dist our Lily out-shine,
Or sporting Kid or Marlowes mighty line.
And though thou hadst small Latine, and lesse Greeke,
From thence to honour thee, I would not seeke
For names; but call forth thund'ring ’schilus,
Euripides, and Sophocles to vs,
Paccuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead,
To life againe, to heare thy Buskin tread,
And shake a stage : Or, when thy sockes were on,
Leave thee alone, for the comparison
Of all, that insolent Greece, or haughtie Rome
Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
Triumph, my Britaine, thou hast one to showe,
To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
He was not of an age, but for all time !
And all the Muses still were in their prime,
When like Apollo he came forth to warme
Our eares, or like a Mercury to charme !
Nature her selfe was proud of his designes,
And joy'd to weare the dressing of his lines !
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As, since, she will vouchsafe no other Wit.
The merry Greeke, tart Aristophanes,
Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not
please;But antiquated, and deserted lye
As they were not of Natures family.
Yet must I not give Nature all: Thy Art,
My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part;
For though the Poets matter, Nature be,
His Art doth give the fashion. And, that he,
Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,
(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
Upon the Muses anvile : turne the same,
(And himselfe with it) that he thinkes to frame;
Or for the lawrell, he may gaine a scorne,
For a good Poet's made, as well as borne.
And such wert thou. Looke how the fathers face
Lives in his issue, even so, the race
Of Shakespeares minde, and manners brightly shines
In his well toned, and true-filed lines :
In each of which, he seemes to shake a Lance,
As brandish't at the eyes of Ignorance.
Sweet swan of Avon! what a fight it were
To see thee in our waters yet appeare,
And make those flights upon the bankes of Thames,
That so did take Eliza, and our James !
But stay, I see thee in the Hemisphere
Advanc'd, and made a Constellation there !
Shine forth, thou Starre of Poets, and with rage,
Or influence, chide, or cheere the drooping Stage;
Which, since thy flight fro' hence, hath mourn'd like night,
And despaires day, but for thy Volumes light.
B E N: J O N S O N.
Upon the Lines and Life of the Famous
Scenicke Poet, Master W I L L I A M
S H A K E S P E A R E
Those hands, which you so clapt, go now, and wring
You Britaines brave; for done are Shakespeares dayes :
His dayes are done, that made the dainty Playes,
Which made the Globe of heav'n and earth to ring.
Dry'de is that veine, dry'd is the Thespian Spring,
Turn'd all to teares, and Phoebus clouds his rayes :
That corp's, that coffin now besticke those bayes,
Which crown'd him Poet first, then Poets King.
If Tragedies might any Prologue have,
All those he made, would scarse make a one to this :
Where Fame, now that he gone is to the grave
(Deaths publique tyring-house) the Nuncius is,
For though his line of life went soone about,
The life yet of his lines shall never out.
H U G H H O L L A N D.
TO THE MEMORIE
of the deceased Authour Maister
W. S H A K E S P E A R E.
Shake-speare, at length thy pious fellowes give
The world thy Workes : thy Workes, by which, out-live
Thy Tombe, thy name must when that stone is rent,
And Time dissolves thy Stratford Moniment,
Here we alive shall view thee still. This Booke,
When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke
Fresh to all Ages: when Posteritie
Shall loath what's new, thinke all is prodegie
That is not Shake-speares; ev'ry Line, each Verse
Here shall revive, redeeme thee from thy Herse.
Nor Fire, nor cankring Age, as Naso said,
Of his, thy wit-fraught Booke shall once invade.
Nor shall I e're beleeve, or thinke thee dead.
(Though mist) untill our bankrout Stage be sped
(Imposible) with some new straine t'out-do
Passions of Juliet, and her Romeo ;
Or till I heare a Scene more nobly take,
Then when thy half-Sword parlying Romans spake.
Till these, till any of thy Volumes rest
Shall with more fire, more feeling be exprest,
Be sure, our Shake-speare, thou canst never dye,
But crown'd with Lawrell, live eternally.
L. Digges.
To the memorie of M.W.Shakes-speare.
WEE wondred (Shake-speare) that thou went'st so soone
From the Worlds-Stage, to the Graves-Tyring-roome.
Wee thought thee dead, but this thy printed worth,
Tels thy Spectators, that thou went'st but forth
To enter with applause. An Actors Art,
Can dye, and live, to acte a second part.
That's but an Exit of Mortalitie;
This, a Re-entrance to a Plaudite.
J. M.
The Workes of William Shakespeare,
containing all his Comedies, Histories, and
Tragedies: Truely set forth, according to their first
O R I G I N A L L
The Names of the Principall Actorsin all these Playes.
William Shakespeare.
Richard Burbadge.
John Hemmings.
Augustine Phillips.
William Kempt.
Thomas Poope.
George Bryan.
Henry Condell.
William Slye.
Richard Cowly.
John Lowine.
Samuell Crosse.
Alexander Cooke.
Samuel Gilburne.
Robert Armin.
William Ostler.
Nathan Field.
John Underwood.
Nicholas Tooley.
William Ecclestone.
Joseph Taylor.
Robert Benfield.
Robert Goughe.
Richard Robinson.
John Shancke.
John Rice.
The Tempest
Actus primus, Scena prima.
A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: Enter a
Ship-master,
and a Boteswaine.
Master. Bote-swaine.
Botes. Heere Master: What cheere?
Mast. Good: Speake to th' Mariners: fall
too't, yarely, or we run our selues a ground,
bestirre, bestirre.
Enter.
Enter Mariners.
Botes. Heigh my hearts, cheerely, cheerely my harts:
yare, yare: Take in the toppe-sale: Tend to th' Masters
whistle: Blow till thou burst thy winde, if roome enough.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando, Gonzalo, and
others.
Alon. Good Boteswaine haue care: where's the Master?
Play the men.
Botes. I pray now keepe below.
Anth. Where is the Master, Boson?
Botes. Do you not heare him? you marre our labour,
Keepe your Cabines: you do assist the storme.
Gonz. Nay, good be patient.
Botes. When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roarers
for the name of King? to Cabine; silence: trouble vs not.
Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboord.
Botes. None that I more loue then my selfe. You are
a Counsellor, if you can command these Elements to silence,
and worke the peace of the present, wee will not
hand a rope more, vse your authoritie: If you cannot,
giue thankes you haue liu'd so long, and make your
selfe readie in your Cabine for the mischance of the
houre, if it so hap. Cheerely good hearts: out of our
way I say.
Enter.
Gon. I haue great comfort from this fellow: methinks
he hath no drowning marke vpon him, his complexion
is perfect Gallowes: stand fast good Fate to his hanging,
make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our
owne doth little aduantage: If he be not borne to bee
hang'd, our case is miserable.
Enter.
Enter Boteswaine
Botes. Downe with the top-Mast: yare, lower, lower,
bring her to Try with Maine-course. A plague -
A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo.
vpon this howling: they are lowder then the weather,
or our office: yet againe? What do you heere? Shal we
giue ore and drowne, haue you a minde to sinke?
Sebas. A poxe o'your throat, you bawling, blasphemous
incharitable Dog.
Botes. Worke you then.
Anth. Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noyse-maker,
we are lesse afraid to be drownde, then thou art.
Gonz. I'le warrant him for drowning, though the
Ship were no stronger then a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as
an vnstanched wench.
Botes. Lay her a hold, a hold, set her two courses off
to Sea againe, lay her off.
Enter Mariners wet.
Mari. All lost, to prayers, to prayers, all lost.
Botes. What must our mouths be cold?
Gonz. The King, and Prince, at prayers, let's assist them,
for our case is as theirs
Sebas. I'am out of patience
An. We are meerly cheated of our liues by drunkards,
This wide-chopt-rascall, would thou mightst lye drowning
the washing of ten Tides
Gonz. Hee'l be hang'd yet,
Though euery drop of water sweare against it,
And gape at widst to glut him.
A confused noyse within.
Mercy on vs.
We split, we split, Farewell my wife, and children,
Farewell brother: we split, we split, we split
Anth. Let's all sinke with' King
Seb. Let's take leaue of him.
Enter.
Gonz. Now would I giue a thousand furlongs of Sea,
for an Acre of barren ground: Long heath, Browne
firrs, any thing; the wills aboue be done, but I would
faine dye a dry death.
Enter.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Prospero and Miranda.
Mira. If by your Art (my deerest father) you haue
Put the wild waters in this Rore; alay them:
The skye it seemes would powre down stinking pitch,
But that the Sea, mounting to th' welkins cheeke,
Dashes the fire out. Oh! I haue suffered
With those that I saw suffer: A braue vessell
(Who had no doubt some noble creature in her)
Dash'd all to peeces: O the cry did knocke
Against my very heart: poore soules, they perish'd.
Had I byn any God of power, I would
Haue suncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere
It should the good Ship so haue swallow'd, and
The fraughting Soules within her
Pros. Be collected,
No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart
there's no harme done
Mira. O woe, the day
Pros. No harme:
I haue done nothing, but in care of thee
(Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who
Art ignorant of what thou art. naught knowing
Of whence I am: nor that I am more better
Then Prospero, Master of a full poore cell,
And thy no greater Father
Mira. More to know
Did neuer medle with my thoughts
Pros. 'Tis time
I should informe thee farther: Lend thy hand
And plucke my Magick garment from me: So,
Lye there my Art: wipe thou thine eyes, haue comfort,
The direfull spectacle of the wracke which touch'd
The very vertue of compassion in thee:
I haue with such prouision in mine Art
So safely ordered, that there is no soule
No not so much perdition as an hayre
Betid to any creature in the vessell
Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sinke: Sit downe,
For thou must now know farther
Mira. You haue often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt
And left me to a bootelesse Inquisition,
Concluding, stay: not yet
Pros. The howr's now come
The very minute byds thee ope thine eare,
Obey, and be attentiue. Canst thou remember
A time before we came vnto this Cell?
I doe not thinke thou canst, for then thou was't not
Out three yeeres old
Mira. Certainely Sir, I can
Pros. By what? by any other house, or person?
Of any thing the Image, tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance
Mira. 'Tis farre off:
And rather like a dreame, then an assurance
That my remembrance warrants: Had I not
Fowre, or fiue women once, that tended me?
Pros. Thou hadst; and more Miranda: But how is it
That this liues in thy minde? What seest thou els
In the dark-backward and Abisme of Time?
Yf thou remembrest ought ere thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here thou maist
Mira. But that I doe not
Pros. Twelue yere since (Miranda) twelue yere since,
Thy father was the Duke of Millaine and
A Prince of power:
Mira. Sir, are not you my Father?
Pros. Thy Mother was a peece of vertue, and
She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father
Was Duke of Millaine, and his onely heire,
And Princesse; no worse Issued
Mira. O the heauens,
What fowle play had we, that we came from thence?
Or blessed was't we did?
Pros. Both, both my Girle.
By fowle-play (as thou saist) were we heau'd thence,
But blessedly holpe hither
Mira. O my heart bleedes
To thinke oth' teene that I haue turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance, please you, farther;
Pros. My brother and thy vncle, call'd Anthonio:
I pray thee marke me, that a brother should
Be so perfidious: he, whom next thy selfe
Of all the world I lou'd, and to him put
The mannage of my state, as at that time
Through all the signories it was the first,
And Prospero, the prime Duke, being so reputed
In dignity; and for the liberall Artes,
Without a paralell; those being all my studie,
The Gouernment I cast vpon my brother,
And to my State grew stranger, being transported
And rapt in secret studies, thy false vncle
(Do'st thou attend me?)
Mira. Sir, most heedefully
Pros. Being once perfected how to graunt suites,
how to deny them: who t' aduance, and who
To trash for ouer-topping; new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em,
Or els new form'd 'em; hauing both the key,
Of Officer, and office, set all hearts i'th state
To what tune pleas'd his eare, that now he was
The Iuy which had hid my princely Trunck,
And suckt my verdure out on't: Thou attend'st not?
Mira. O good Sir, I doe
Pros. I pray thee marke me:
I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To closenes, and the bettering of my mind
with that, which but by being so retir'd
Ore-priz'd all popular rate: in my false brother
Awak'd an euill nature, and my trust
Like a good parent, did beget of him
A falsehood in it's contrarie, as great
As my trust was, which had indeede no limit,
A confidence sans bound. He being thus Lorded,
Not onely with what my reuenew yeelded,
But what my power might els exact. Like one
Who hauing into truth, by telling of it,
Made such a synner of his memorie
To credite his owne lie, he did beleeue
He was indeed the Duke, out o'th' Substitution
And executing th' outward face of Roialtie
With all prerogatiue: hence his Ambition growing:
Do'st thou heare ?
Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafenesse
Pros. To haue no Schreene between this part he plaid,
And him he plaid it for, he needes will be
Absolute Millaine, Me (poore man) my Librarie
Was Dukedome large enough: of temporall roalties
He thinks me now incapable. Confederates
(so drie he was for Sway) with King of Naples
To giue him Annuall tribute, doe him homage
Subiect his Coronet, to his Crowne and bend
The Dukedom yet vnbow'd (alas poore Millaine)
To most ignoble stooping
Mira. Oh the heauens:
Pros. Marke his condition, and th' euent, then tell me
If this might be a brother
Mira. I should sinne
To thinke but Noblie of my Grand-mother,
Good wombes haue borne bad sonnes
Pro. Now the Condition.
This King of Naples being an Enemy
To me inueterate, hearkens my Brothers suit,
Which was, That he in lieu o'th' premises,
Of homage, and I know not how much Tribute,
Should presently extirpate me and mine
Out of the Dukedome, and confer faire Millaine
With all the Honors, on my brother: Whereon
A treacherous Armie leuied, one mid-night
Fated to th' purpose, did Anthonio open
The gates of Millaine, and ith' dead of darkenesse
The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence
Me, and thy crying selfe
Mir. Alack, for pitty:
I not remembring how I cride out then
Will cry it ore againe: it is a hint
That wrings mine eyes too't
Pro. Heare a little further,
And then I'le bring thee to the present businesse
Which now's vpon's: without the which, this Story
Were most impertinent
Mir. Wherefore did they not
That howre destroy vs?
Pro. Well demanded, wench:
My Tale prouokes that question: Deare, they durst not,
So deare the loue my people bore me: nor set
A marke so bloudy on the businesse; but
With colours fairer, painted their foule ends.
In few, they hurried vs aboord a Barke,
Bore vs some Leagues to Sea, where they prepared
A rotten carkasse of a Butt, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sayle, nor mast, the very rats
Instinctiuely haue quit it: There they hoyst vs
To cry to th' Sea, that roard to vs; to sigh
To th' windes, whose pitty sighing backe againe
Did vs but louing wrong
Mir. Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you?
Pro. O, a Cherubin
Thou was't that did preserue me; Thou didst smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heauen,
When I haue deck'd the sea with drops full salt,
Vnder my burthen groan'd, which rais'd in me
An vndergoing stomacke, to beare vp
Against what should ensue
Mir. How came we a shore?
Pro. By prouidence diuine,
Some food, we had, and some fresh water, that
A noble Neopolitan Gonzalo
Out of his Charity, (who being then appointed
Master of this designe) did giue vs, with
Rich garments, linnens, stuffs, and necessaries
Which since haue steeded much, so of his gentlenesse
Knowing I lou'd my bookes, he furnishd me
From mine owne Library, with volumes, that
I prize aboue my Dukedome
Mir. Would I might
But euer see that man
Pro. Now I arise,
Sit still, and heare the last of our sea-sorrow:
Heere in this Iland we arriu'd, and heere
Haue I, thy Schoolemaster, made thee more profit
Then other Princesse can, that haue more time
For vainer howres; and Tutors, not so carefull
Mir. Heuens thank you for't. And now I pray you Sir,
For still 'tis beating in my minde; your reason
For raysing this Sea-storme?
Pro. Know thus far forth,
By accident most strange, bountifull Fortune
(Now my deere Lady) hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore: And by my prescience
I finde my Zenith doth depend vpon
A most auspitious starre, whose influence
If now I court not, but omit; my fortunes
Will euer after droope: Heare cease more questions,
Thou art inclinde to sleepe: 'tis a good dulnesse,
And giue it way: I know thou canst not chuse:
Come away, Seruant, come; I am ready now,
Approach my Ariel. Come.
Enter Ariel.
Ari. All haile, great Master, graue Sir, haile: I come
To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
To swim, to diue into the fire: to ride
On the curld clowds: to thy strong bidding, taske
Ariel, and all his Qualitie
Pro. Hast thou, Spirit,
Performd to point, the Tempest that I bad thee
Ar. To euery Article.
I boorded the Kings ship: now on the Beake,
Now in the Waste, the Decke, in euery Cabyn,
I flam'd amazement, sometime I'ld diuide
And burne in many places; on the Top-mast,
The Yards and Bore-spritt, would I flame distinctly,
Then meete, and ioyne. Ioues Lightning, the precursers
O'th dreadfull Thunder-claps more momentarie
And sight out-running were not; the fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seeme to besiege, and make his bold waues tremble,
Yea, his dread Trident shake
Pro. My braue Spirit,
Who was so firme, so constant, that this coyle
Would not infect his reason?
Ar. Not a soule
But felt a Feauer of the madde, and plaid
Some tricks of desperation; all but Mariners
Plung'd in the foaming bryne, and quit the vessell;
Then all a fire with me the Kings sonne Ferdinand
With haire vp-staring (then like reeds, not haire)
Was the first man that leapt; cride hell is empty,
And all the Diuels are heere
Pro. Why that's my spirit:
But was not this nye shore?
Ar. Close by, my Master
Pro. But are they (Ariell) safe?
Ar. Not a haire perishd:
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher then before: and as thou badst me,
In troops I haue dispersd them 'bout the Isle:
The Kings sonne haue I landed by himselfe,
Whom I left cooling of the Ayre with sighes,
In an odde Angle of the Isle, and sitting
His armes in this sad knot
Pro. Of the Kings ship,
The Marriners, say how thou hast disposd,
And all the rest o'th' Fleete?
Ar. Safely in harbour
Is the Kings shippe, in the deepe Nooke, where once
Thou calldst me vp at midnight to fetch dewe
From the still-vext Bermoothes, there she's hid;
The Marriners all vnder hatches stowed,
Who, with a Charme ioynd to their suffred labour
I haue left asleep: and for the rest o'th' Fleet
(Which I dispers'd) they all haue met againe,
And are vpon the Mediterranian Flote
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the Kings ship wrackt,
And his great person perish
Pro. Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more worke:
What is the time o'th' day?
Ar. Past the mid season
Pro. At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & now
Must by vs both be spent most preciously
Ar. Is there more toyle? Since y dost giue me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me
Pro. How now? moodie?
What is't thou canst demand?
Ar. My Libertie
Pro. Before the time be out? no more:
Ar. I prethee,
Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice,
Told thee no lyes, made thee no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promise
To bate me a full yeere
Pro. Do'st thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?
Ar. No
Pro. Thou do'st: & thinkst it much to tread y Ooze
Of the salt deepe;
To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North,
To doe me businesse in the veines o'th' earth
When it is bak'd with frost
Ar. I doe not Sir
Pro. Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot
The fowle Witch Sycorax, who with Age and Enuy
Was growne into a hoope? hast thou forgot her?
Ar. No Sir
Pro. Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me:
Ar. Sir, in Argier
Pro. Oh, was she so: I must
Once in a moneth recount what thou hast bin,
Which thou forgetst. This damn'd Witch Sycorax
For mischiefes manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter humane hearing, from Argier
Thou know'st was banish'd: for one thing she did
They wold not take her life: Is not this true?
Ar. I, Sir
Pro. This blew ey'd hag, was hither brought with child,
And here was left by th' Saylors; thou my slaue,
As thou reportst thy selfe, was then her seruant,
And for thou wast a Spirit too delicate
To act her earthy, and abhord commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee
By helpe of her more potent Ministers,
And in her most vnmittigable rage,
Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift
Imprison'd, thou didst painefully remaine
A dozen yeeres: within which space she di'd,
And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanes
As fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island
(Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere,
A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd with
A humane shape
Ar. Yes: Caliban her sonne
Pro. Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban
Whom now I keepe in seruice, thou best know'st
What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones
Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breasts
Of euer-angry Beares; it was a torment
To lay vpon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not againe vndoe: it was mine Art,
When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gape
The Pyne, and let thee out
Ar. I thanke thee Master
Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an Oake
And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till
Thou hast howl'd away twelue winters
Ar. Pardon, Master,
I will be correspondent to command
And doe my spryting, gently
Pro. Doe so: and after two daies
I will discharge thee
Ar. That's my noble Master:
What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe?
Pro. Goe make thy selfe like a Nymph o'th' Sea,
Be subiect to no sight but thine, and mine: inuisible
To euery eye-ball else: goe take this shape
And hither come in't: goe: hence
With diligence.
Enter.
Pro. Awake, deere hart awake, thou hast slept well,
Awake
Mir. The strangenes of your story, put
Heauinesse in me
Pro. Shake it off: Come on,
Wee'll visit Caliban, my slaue, who neuer
Yeelds vs kinde answere
Mir. 'Tis a villaine Sir, I doe not loue to looke on
Pro. But as 'tis
We cannot misse him: he do's make our fire,
Fetch in our wood, and serues in Offices
That profit vs: What hoa: slaue: Caliban:
Thou Earth, thou: speake
Cal. within. There's wood enough within
Pro. Come forth I say, there's other busines for thee:
Come thou Tortoys, when?
Enter Ariel like a water Nymph.
Fine apparision: my queint Ariel,
Hearke in thine eare
Ar. My Lord, it shall be done.
Enter.
Pro. Thou poysonous slaue, got by y diuell himselfe
Vpon thy wicked Dam; come forth.
Enter Caliban.
Cal. As wicked dewe, as ere my mother brush'd
With Rauens feather from vnwholesome Fen
Drop on you both: A Southwest blow on yee,
And blister you all ore
Pro. For this be sure, to night thou shalt haue cramps,
Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath vp, Vrchins
Shall for that vast of night, that they may worke
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd
As thicke as hony-combe, each pinch more stinging
Then Bees that made 'em
Cal. I must eat my dinner:
This Island's mine by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me: when thou cam'st first
Thou stroakst me, & made much of me: wouldst giue me
Water with berries in't: and teach me how
To name the bigger Light, and how the lesse
That burne by day, and night: and then I lou'd thee
And shew'd thee all the qualities o'th' Isle,
The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertill,
Curs'd be I that did so: All the Charmes
Of Sycorax: Toades, Beetles, Batts light on you:
For I am all the Subiects that you haue,
Which first was min owne King: and here you sty-me
In this hard Rocke, whiles you doe keepe from me
The rest o'th' Island
Pro. Thou most lying slaue,
Whom stripes may moue, not kindnes: I haue vs'd thee
(Filth as thou art) with humane care, and lodg'd thee
In mine owne Cell, till thou didst seeke to violate
The honor of my childe
Cal. Oh ho, oh ho, would't had bene done:
Thou didst preuent me, I had peopel'd else
This Isle with Calibans
Mira. Abhorred Slaue,
Which any print of goodnesse wilt not take,
Being capable of all ill: I pittied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each houre
One thing or other: when thou didst not (Sauage)
Know thine owne meaning; but wouldst gabble, like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them knowne: But thy vild race
(Tho thou didst learn) had that in't, which good natures
Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deseruedly confin'd into this Rocke, who hadst
Deseru'd more then a prison
Cal. You taught me Language, and my profit on't
Is, I know how to curse: the red-plague rid you
For learning me your language
Pros. Hag-seed, hence:
Fetch vs in Fewell, and be quicke thou'rt best
To answer other businesse: shrug'st thou (Malice)
If thou neglectst, or dost vnwillingly
What I command, Ile racke thee with old Crampes,
Fill all thy bones with Aches, make thee rore,
That beasts shall tremble at thy dyn
Cal. No, 'pray thee.
I must obey, his Art is of such pow'r,
It would controll my Dams god Setebos,
And make a vassaile of him
Pro. So slaue, hence.
Exit Cal.
Enter Ferdinand & Ariel, inuisible playing & singing.
Ariel Song. Come vnto these yellow sands, and then
take hands:
Curtsied when you haue, and kist the wilde waues whist:
Foote it featly heere, and there, and sweete Sprights beare
the burthen.
Burthen dispersedly.
Harke, harke, bowgh wawgh: the watch-Dogges barke,
bowgh-wawgh
Ar. Hark, hark, I heare, the straine of strutting Chanticlere
cry cockadidle-dowe
Fer. Where shold this Musick be? I'th aire, or th' earth?
It sounds no more: and sure it waytes vpon
Some God o'th' Iland, sitting on a banke,
Weeping againe the King my Fathers wracke.
This Musicke crept by me vpon the waters,
Allaying both their fury, and my passion
With it's sweet ayre: thence I haue follow'd it
(Or it hath drawne me rather) but 'tis gone.
No, it begins againe
Ariell Song. Full fadom fiue thy Father lies,
Of his bones are Corrall made:
Those are pearles that were his eies,
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a Sea-change
Into something rich, & strange:
Sea-Nimphs hourly ring his knell.
Burthen: ding dong.
Harke now I heare them, ding-dong bell
Fer. The Ditty do's remember my drown'd father,
This is no mortall busines, nor no sound
That the earth owes: I heare it now aboue me
Pro. The fringed Curtaines of thine eye aduance,
And say what thou see'st yond
Mira. What is't a Spirit?
Lord, how it lookes about: Beleeue me sir,
It carries a braue forme. But 'tis a spirit
Pro. No wench, it eats, and sleeps, & hath such senses
As we haue: such. This Gallant which thou seest
Was in the wracke: and but hee's something stain'd
With greefe (that's beauties canker) y might'st call him
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellowes,
And strayes about to finde 'em
Mir. I might call him
A thing diuine, for nothing naturall
I euer saw so Noble
Pro. It goes on I see
As my soule prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, Ile free thee
Within two dayes for this
Fer. Most sure the Goddesse
On whom these ayres attend: Vouchsafe my pray'r
May know if you remaine vpon this Island,
And that you will some good instruction giue
How I may beare me heere: my prime request
(Which I do last pronounce) is (O you wonder)
If you be Mayd, or no?
Mir. No wonder Sir,
But certainly a Mayd
Fer. My Language? Heauens:
I am the best of them that speake this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken
Pro. How? the best?
What wer't thou if the King of Naples heard thee?
Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
To heare thee speake of Naples: he do's heare me,
And that he do's, I weepe: my selfe am Naples,
Who, with mine eyes (neuer since at ebbe) beheld
The King my Father wrack't
Mir. Alacke, for mercy
Fer. Yes faith, & all his Lords, the Duke of Millaine
And his braue sonne, being twaine
Pro. The Duke of Millaine
And his more brauer daughter, could controll thee
If now 'twere fit to do't: At the first sight
They haue chang'd eyes: Delicate Ariel,
Ile set thee free for this. A word good Sir,
I feare you haue done your selfe some wrong: A word
Mir. Why speakes my father so vngently? This
Is the third man that ere I saw: the first
That ere I sigh'd for: pitty moue my father
To be enclin'd my way
Fer. O, if a Virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, Ile make you
The Queene of Naples
Pro. Soft sir, one word more.
They are both in eythers pow'rs: But this swift busines
I must vneasie make, least too light winning
Make the prize light. One word more: I charge thee
That thou attend me: Thou do'st heere vsurpe
The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thy selfe
Vpon this Island, as a spy, to win it
From me, the Lord on't
Fer. No, as I am a man
Mir. Ther's nothing ill, can dwell in such a Temple,
If the ill-spirit haue so fayre a house,
Good things will striue to dwell with't
Pro. Follow me
Pros. Speake not you for him: hee's a Traitor: come,
Ile manacle thy necke and feete together:
Sea water shalt thou drinke: thy food shall be
The fresh-brooke Mussels, wither'd roots, and huskes
Wherein the Acorne cradled. Follow
Fer. No,
I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy ha's more pow'r.
He drawes, and is charmed from mouing.
Mira. O deere Father,
Make not too rash a triall of him, for
Hee's gentle, and not fearfull
Pros. What I say,
My foote my Tutor? Put thy sword vp Traitor,
Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike: thy conscience
Is so possest with guilt: Come, from thy ward,
For I can heere disarme thee with this sticke,
And make thy weapon drop
Mira. Beseech you Father
Pros. Hence: hang not on my garments
Mira. Sir haue pity,
Ile be his surety
Pros. Silence: One word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What,
An aduocate for an Impostor? Hush:
Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,
(Hauing seene but him and Caliban:) Foolish wench,
To th' most of men, this is a Caliban,
And they to him are Angels
Mira. My affections
Are then most humble: I haue no ambition
To see a goodlier man
Pros. Come on, obey:
Thy Nerues are in their infancy againe.
And haue no vigour in them
Fer. So they are:
My spirits, as in a dreame, are all bound vp:
My Fathers losse, the weaknesse which I feele,
The wracke of all my friends, nor this mans threats,
To whom I am subdude, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this Mayd: all corners else o'th' Earth
Let liberty make vse of: space enough
Haue I in such a prison
Pros. It workes: Come on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariell: follow me,
Harke what thou else shalt do mee
Mira. Be of comfort,
My Fathers of a better nature (Sir)
Then he appeares by speech: this is vnwonted
Which now came from him
Pros. Thou shalt be as free
As mountaine windes; but then exactly do
All points of my command
Ariell. To th' syllable
Pros. Come follow: speake not for him.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco,
and
others.
Gonz. Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue cause,
(So haue we all) of ioy; for our escape
Is much beyond our losse; our hint of woe
Is common, euery day, some Saylors wife,
The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant
Haue iust our Theame of woe: But for the miracle,
(I meane our preseruation) few in millions
Can speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weigh
Our sorrow, with our comfort
Alons. Prethee peace
Seb. He receiues comfort like cold porredge
Ant. The Visitor will not giue him ore so
Seb. Looke, hee's winding vp the watch of his wit,
By and by it will strike
Gon. Sir
Seb. One: Tell
Gon. When euery greefe is entertaind,
That's offer'd comes to th' entertainer
Seb. A dollor
Gon. Dolour comes to him indeed, you haue spoken
truer then you purpos'd
Seb. You haue taken it wiselier then I meant you
should
Gon. Therefore my Lord
Ant. Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue
Alon. I pre-thee spare
Gon. Well, I haue done: But yet
Seb. He will be talking
Ant. Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager,
First begins to crow?
Seb. The old Cocke
Ant. The Cockrell
Seb. Done: The wager?
Ant. A Laughter
Seb. A match
Adr. Though this Island seeme to be desert
Seb. Ha, ha, ha
Ant. So: you'r paid
Adr. Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible
Seb. Yet
Adr. Yet
Ant. He could not misse't
Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate
temperance
Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench
Seb. I, and a subtle, as he most learnedly deliuer'd
Adr. The ayre breathes vpon vs here most sweetly
Seb. As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones
Ant. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a Fen
Gon. Heere is euery thing aduantageous to life
Ant. True, saue meanes to liue
Seb. Of that there's none, or little
Gon. How lush and lusty the grasse lookes?
How greene?
Ant. The ground indeed is tawny
Seb. With an eye of greene in't
Ant. He misses not much
Seb. No: he doth but mistake the truth totally
Gon. But the rariety of it is, which is indeed almost
beyond credit
Seb. As many voucht rarieties are
Gon. That our Garments being (as they were) drencht
in the Sea, hold notwithstanding their freshnesse and
glosses, being rather new dy'de then stain'd with salte
water
Ant. If but one of his pockets could speake, would
it not say he lyes?
Seb. I, or very falsely pocket vp his report
Gon. Me thinkes our garments are now as fresh as
when we put them on first in Affricke, at the marriage
of the kings faire daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis
Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in
our returne
Adri. Tunis was neuer grac'd before with such a Paragon
to their Queene
Gon. Not since widdow Dido's time
Ant. Widow? A pox o'that: how came that Widdow
in? Widdow Dido!
Seb. What if he had said Widdower aeneas too?
Good Lord, how you take it?
Adri. Widdow Dido said you? You make me study
of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis
Gon. This Tunis Sir was Carthage
Adri. Carthage?
Gon. I assure you Carthage
Ant. His word is more then the miraculous Harpe
Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too
Ant. What impossible matter wil he make easy next?
Seb. I thinke hee will carry this Island home in his
pocket, and giue it his sonne for an Apple
Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bring
forth more Islands
Gon. I
Ant. Why in good time
Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seeme
now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage
of your daughter, who is now Queene
Ant. And the rarest that ere came there
Seb. Bate (I beseech you) widdow Dido
Ant. O Widdow Dido? I, Widdow Dido
Gon. Is not Sir my doublet as fresh as the first day I
wore it? I meane in a sort
Ant. That sort was well fish'd for
Gon. When I wore it at your daughters marriage
Alon. You cram these words into mine eares, against
the stomacke of my sense: would I had neuer
Married my daughter there: For comming thence
My sonne is lost, and (in my rate) she too,
Who is so farre from Italy remoued,
I ne're againe shall see her: O thou mine heire
Of Naples and of Millaine, what strange fish
Hath made his meale on thee?
Fran. Sir he may liue,
I saw him beate the surges vnder him,
And ride vpon their backes; he trod the water
Whose enmity he flung aside: and brested
The surge most swolne that met him: his bold head
'Boue the contentious waues he kept, and oared
Himselfe with his good armes in lusty stroke
To th' shore; that ore his waue-worne basis bowed
As stooping to releeue him: I not doubt
He came aliue to Land
Alon. No, no, hee's gone
Seb. Sir you may thank your selfe for this great losse,
That would not blesse our Europe with your daughter,
But rather loose her to an Affrican,
Where she at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the greefe on't
Alon. Pre-thee peace
Seb. You were kneel'd too, & importun'd otherwise
By all of vs: and the faire soule her selfe
Waigh'd betweene loathnesse, and obedience, at
Which end o'th' beame should bow: we haue lost your son,
I feare for euer: Millaine and Naples haue
Mo widdowes in them of this businesse making,
Then we bring men to comfort them:
The faults your owne
Alon. So is the deer'st oth' losse
Gon. My Lord Sebastian,
The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse,
And time to speake it in: you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaister
Seb. Very well
Ant. And most Chirurgeonly
Gon. It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir,
When you are cloudy
Seb. Fowle weather?
Ant. Very foule