« PreviousContinue »
I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother.
This king of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
Which was, that he in lieu o' the premises,-
Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,
Should presently extirpate me and mine
Out of the dukedom; and confer fair Milan,
With all the honors, on my brother: Whereon,
A treacherous army levied, one midnight
Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open
The gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness,
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me, and thy crying self.
Alack, for pity!
I, not rememb'ring how I cry'd out then,
Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint,
That wrings mine eyes to't.
Hear a little farther,
And then I'll bring thee to the present business
Which now's upon us; without the which, this story
Were most impertinent.
Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?
Well demanded, girl;
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not;
(So dear the love my people bore me,) nor set
A mark so bloody on the business; but
With colors fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark;
Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd
A rotten carcase of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.
Alack! what trouble
Was I then to you!
O! a cherubim
Thou wast, thou didst preserve me! Thou didst smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heaven,-
When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt;
Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me
An undergoing stomach, to bear up
Against what should ensue.
How came we ashore?
Pro. By Providence divine.
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity, (who being then appointed
Master of this design,) did give us; with
Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,
Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,
Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,
From my own library, with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.
'Would I might
But ever see that man!
Now I arise:-
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this island we arrived; and here
Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princes can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.
Mira. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir
(For still 'tis beating in my mind,) your reason
For raising this sea-storm?
Know thus far forth.-
By accident most strange, bountiful fortune,
Now, my dear lady, hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore: and by my prescience
I find my zenith doth depend upon
A most auspicious star; whose influence
If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes
Will ever after droop.-Here cease more questions;
Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way;-I know thou can'st not choose.
Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;
Approach, my Ariel; come.
Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curl'd clouds; to thy strong bidding, task
Ariel and all his quality.
Hast thou, spirit, Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee? Ari. To every article.
I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
1 flam'd amazement: Sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the top-mast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-out-running were not: The fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,
Yea, his dread trident shake.
My brave spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil*
Would not infect his reason?
Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me. The king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring, (then like reeds, not hair,)
Was the first man that leap'd.
Why, that's my spirit!
Close by, my master.
But was not this nigh shore?
Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe?
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and, as thou bad'st me,
In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle :
The king's son have I landed by himself;
Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs,
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot.
Of the king's ship,
The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd,
And all the rest o' the fleet ?
Safely in harbor
Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid:
The mariners all under hatches stow'd;
Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labor,
I have left asleep: and for the rest o' the fleet,
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again;
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,†
Bound sadly home for Naples;
Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd,
And his great person perish.
Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work: What is the time o' the day?
Past the mid season.
Pro. At least two glasses: the time 'twixt six and now, Must by us both be spent most preciously.
* Bustle, tumult.
Ari. Is there more toil?-Since thou dost give me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me.
How now ? moody?
What is't thou can'st demand?
Pro. Before the time be out? no more.
I pray thee
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge, or grumblings: thou didst promise
To bate me a full year.
Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee?
Pro. Thou dost; and think'st
It much to tread the ooze of the salt deep;
To run upon the sharp wind of the north;
To do me business in the veins o' the earth,
When it is bak'd with frost.
I do not, sir.
Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot
The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy,
Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?
Ari. No, sir.
Thou hast: Where was she born? speak; tell me.
Ari. Sir, in Argier.
O, was she so? I must,
Once in a month, recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forget'st. This vile witch, Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know'st, was banish'd; for one thing she did,
They would not take her life: Is not this true?
Ari. Ay, sir.
Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought,
And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, was then her servant :
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd, thou did'st painfully remain
A dozen years; within which space she died,
And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans,
As fast as mill-wheels strike: Then was this island,
Saving her son, not honor'd with
A human shape.
Yes; Caliban her son.
Pro. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban,
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
What torment I did find thee in: thy groans
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts
Of ever-angry bears. This Sycorax
Could not again undo; it was mine art,
When I arriv'd, and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.