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Sc. II

PRO. [aside.]

The Duke of Milan

And his more braver daughter could control1 thee,
If now 'twere fit to do 't.-At the first sight
They have chang'd eyes.-Delicate Ariel,

I'll set thee free for this! [to FERD.] A word, good

I fear, you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
MIRA. Why speaks my father so ungently? This

Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first

That e'er I sigh'd for.

To be inclin'd my way


Pity move my father

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O, if a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The Queen of Naples.


Soft, Sir; one word more.


[aside.] They are both in either's powers: but this swift business

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

Make the prize light. [to FERD.] One word more: I charge thee,

That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp

The name thou ow'st not; and hast put thyself

Upon this Island, as a spy, to win it

From me, the lord on 't.


No, as I am a man.

MIRA. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:

If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with 't. PRO.


Follow me. [to FERD.

Speak not you for him: he's a traitor. Come.
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together;
Sea-water shalt thou drink, thy food shall be
The fresh-brook mussels, wither'd roots, and husks,
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

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He's gentle, and not fearful.1

Sc. II


What, I say,

My child my tutor! Put thy sword up, traitor,


Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience

Is so possess'd with guilt! Come from thy ward;2

For I can here disarm thee with this stick,

And make thy weapon drop.


PRO. Hence; hang not on my garments.


I'll be his surety.



you, father!

Sir, have pity;

Silence: one word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!

An advocate for an impostor? Hush!

Thou think'st there are no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban. Foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban,

And they to him are angels.

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My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wrack of all my friends, nor this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth

Let liberty make use of; space enough

Have I in such a prison.

PRO. [aside.]



It works. [to FERD.] Come on.— [aside.] Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!-Follow

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Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted,

Which now came from him.

PRO. [to ARIEL.]

Thou shalt be as free 500

As mountain winds: but then exactly do

All points of my command.


To the syllable.

PRO. [to FERD. and MIRA.] Come, follow: speak not for




SCENE I. Another part of the Island.

ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others.

GON. Beseech 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.


Pr'ythee, peace.


SEB. He receives comfort like cold porridge.

ANT. The visitor1 will not give him o'er so.

SEB. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by

and by it will strike.

GON. Sir

SEB. One:- -tell.2

GON. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd,

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GON. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken

truer than you purposed.

SEB. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should

GON. Therefore, my Lord


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Sc. II

ANT. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!


Sc. I

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ANT. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first

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ANT. He could not miss it.


ADR. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.1

ANT. Temperance was a delicate wench.

SEB. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

ADR. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

SEB. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.

ANT. Or as 'twere perfum'd by a fen.

GON. Here is every thing advantageous to life.

ANT. True; save means to live.

SEB. Of that there's none, or little.

GON. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

ANT. The ground, indeed, is tawny.

SEB. With an eye of in 't.


ANT. He misses not much.

SEB. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.


GON. But the rarity of it is (which is indeed almost beyond credit)—

SEB. As many vouch'd rarities are—

GON. That our garments, being, as they were, drench'd in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness, and glosses; being rather new dy'd than stain'd with salt


1 temperature.

2 tinge.


ANT. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not ACT II say he lies?

SEB. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.

GON. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Africk, at the marriage of the King's fair daughter, Claribel, to the King of Tunis.

SEB. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our



ADR. Tunis was never grac'd before with such a paragon to their Queen.

GON. Not since widow Dido's time.

ANT. Widow? a pox o' that! How came that widow
in? widow Dido!

SEB. What if he had said widower Æneas too? good
Lord, how you take it!

ADR. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of
that she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

GON. This Tunis, Sir, was Carthage.

ADR. Carthage?

GON. I assure you, Carthage.

ANT. His word is more than the miraculous harp.
SEB. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.


ANT. What impossible matter will he make easy next? SEB. I think he will carry this Island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

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

GON. Ay.

ANT. Why, in good time.


GON. 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.

ANT. And the rarest that e'er came there.

SEB. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

ANT. O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.

GON. Is not, Sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

ANT. That, sort, was well fish'd for.

GON. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?


Sc. I

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