Complete Plays, The Read online

  Would you not deem it breathed? and that those veins

  Did verily bear blood?

  Polixenes

  Masterly done:

  The very life seems warm upon her lip.

  Leontes

  The fixture of her eye has motion in’t,

  As we are mock’d with art.

  Paulina

  I’ll draw the curtain:

  My lord’s almost so far transported that

  He’ll think anon it lives.

  Leontes

  O sweet Paulina,

  Make me to think so twenty years together!

  No settled senses of the world can match

  The pleasure of that madness. Let ’t alone.

  Paulina

  I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr’d you: but

  I could afflict you farther.

  Leontes

  Do, Paulina;

  For this affliction has a taste as sweet

  As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks,

  There is an air comes from her: what fine chisel

  Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,

  For I will kiss her.

  Paulina

  Good my lord, forbear:

  The ruddiness upon her lip is wet;

  You’ll mar it if you kiss it, stain your own

  With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain?

  Leontes

  No, not these twenty years.

  Perdita

  So long could I

  Stand by, a looker on.

  Paulina

  Either forbear,

  Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you

  For more amazement. If you can behold it,

  I’ll make the statue move indeed, descend

  And take you by the hand; but then you’ll think —

  Which I protest against — I am assisted

  By wicked powers.

  Leontes

  What you can make her do,

  I am content to look on: what to speak,

  I am content to hear; for ’tis as easy

  To make her speak as move.

  Paulina

  It is required

  You do awake your faith. Then all stand still;

  On: those that think it is unlawful business

  I am about, let them depart.

  Leontes

  Proceed:

  No foot shall stir.

  Paulina

  Music, awake her; strike!

  Music

  ’Tis time; descend; be stone no more; approach;

  Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come,

  I’ll fill your grave up: stir, nay, come away,

  Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him

  Dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs:

  Hermione comes down

  Start not; her actions shall be holy as

  You hear my spell is lawful: do not shun her

  Until you see her die again; for then

  You kill her double. Nay, present your hand:

  When she was young you woo’d her; now in age

  Is she become the suitor?

  Leontes

  O, she’s warm!

  If this be magic, let it be an art

  Lawful as eating.

  Polixenes

  She embraces him.

  Camillo

  She hangs about his neck:

  If she pertain to life let her speak too.

  Polixenes

  Ay, and make’t manifest where she has lived,

  Or how stolen from the dead.

  Paulina

  That she is living,

  Were it but told you, should be hooted at

  Like an old tale: but it appears she lives,

  Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while.

  Please you to interpose, fair madam: kneel

  And pray your mother’s blessing. Turn, good lady;

  Our Perdita is found.

  Hermione

  You gods, look down

  And from your sacred vials pour your graces

  Upon my daughter’s head! Tell me, mine own.

  Where hast thou been preserved? where lived? how found

  Thy father’s court? for thou shalt hear that I,

  Knowing by Paulina that the oracle

  Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserved

  Myself to see the issue.

  Paulina

  There’s time enough for that;

  Lest they desire upon this push to trouble

  Your joys with like relation. Go together,

  You precious winners all; your exultation

  Partake to every one. I, an old turtle,

  Will wing me to some wither’d bough and there

  My mate, that’s never to be found again,

  Lament till I am lost.

  Leontes

  O, peace, Paulina!

  Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent,

  As I by thine a wife: this is a match,

  And made between’s by vows. Thou hast found mine;

  But how, is to be question’d; for I saw her,

  As I thought, dead, and have in vain said many

  A prayer upon her grave. I’ll not seek far —

  For him, I partly know his mind — to find thee

  An honourable husband. Come, Camillo,

  And take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty

  Is richly noted and here justified

  By us, a pair of kings. Let’s from this place.

  What! look upon my brother: both your pardons,

  That e’er I put between your holy looks

  My ill suspicion. This is your son-in-law,

  And son unto the king, who, heavens directing,

  Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina,

  Lead us from hence, where we may leisurely

  Each one demand an answer to his part

  Perform’d in this wide gap of time since first

  We were dissever’d: hastily lead away.

  Exeunt

  ACT I

  The Tempest

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

  ACT I

  SCENE I. ON A SHIP AT SEA: A TEMPESTUOUS NOISE

  SCENE II. THE ISLAND. BEFORE PROSPERO’S CELL.

  ACT II

  SCENE I. ANOTHER PART OF THE ISLAND.

  SCENE II. ANOTHER PART OF THE ISLAND.

  ACT III

  SCENE I. BEFORE PROSPERO’S CELL.

  SCENE II. ANOTHER PART OF THE ISLAND.

  SCENE III. ANOTHER PART OF THE ISLAND.

  ACT IV

  SCENE I. BEFORE PROSPERO’S CELL.

  ACT V

  SCENE I. BEFORE PROSPERO’S CELL.

  EPILOGUE

  CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

  Alonso, King of Naples.

  Sebastian, his brother.

  Prospero, the right Duke of Milan.

  Antonio, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan.

  Ferdinand, son to the King of Naples.

  Gonzalo, an honest old counsellor.

  Lords.

  Adrian.

  Francisco.

  Caliban, a savage and deformed slave.

  Trinculo, a jester.

  Stephano, a drunken butler.

  Master Of A Ship.

  Boatswain.

  Mariners.

  Miranda, daughter to Prospero.

  Ariel, an airy spirit.

  Spirits.

  Iris.

  Ceres.

  Juno.

  Nymphs.

  Reapers.

  Other Spirits attending on Prospero.

  Scene: A ship at sea; afterwards an uninhabited island.

  ACT I

  SCENE I. ON A SHIP AT SEA: A TEMPESTUOUS NOISE

  of thunder and lightning heard.

  Enter a Master and a Boatswain

  Master

  Boatswain!

  Boatswain

>   Here, master: what cheer?

  Master

  Good, speak to the mariners: fall to’t, yarely, or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.

  Exit

  Enter Mariners

  Boatswain

  Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master’s whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough!

  Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, Gonzalo, and others

  Alonso

  Good boatswain, have care. Where’s the master?

  Play the men.

  Boatswain

  I pray now, keep below.

  Antonio

  Where is the master, boatswain?

  Boatswain

  Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your cabins: you do assist the storm.

  Gonzalo

  Nay, good, be patient.

  Boatswain

  When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not.

  Gonzalo

  Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

  Boatswain

  None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more; use your authority: if you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good hearts! Out of our way, I say.

  Exit

  Gonzalo

  I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging: make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage. If he be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable.

  Exeunt

  Re-enter Boatswain

  Boatswain

  Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring her to try with main-course.

  A cry within

  A plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather or our office.

  Re-enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo

  Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o’er and drown? Have you a mind to sink?

  Sebastian

  A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!

  Boatswain

  Work you then.

  Antonio

  Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker!

  We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

  Gonzalo

  I’ll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an unstanched wench.

  Boatswain

  Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off to sea again; lay her off.

  Enter Mariners wet

  Mariners

  All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!

  Boatswain

  What, must our mouths be cold?

  Gonzalo

  The king and prince at prayers! let’s assist them,

  For our case is as theirs.

  Sebastian

  I’m out of patience.

  Antonio

  We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:

  This wide-chapp’d rascal — would thou mightst lie drowning

  The washing of ten tides!

  Gonzalo

  He’ll be hang’d yet,

  Though every drop of water swear against it

  And gape at widest to glut him.

  A confused noise within: ‘Mercy on us!’— ‘We split, we split!’—‘Farewell, my wife and children!’— ‘Farewell, brother!’—‘We split, we split, we split!’

  Antonio

  Let’s all sink with the king.

  Sebastian

  Let’s take leave of him.

  Exeunt Antonio and Sebastian

  Gonzalo

  Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death.

  Exeunt

  SCENE II. THE ISLAND. BEFORE PROSPERO’S CELL.

  Enter Prospero and Miranda

  Miranda

  If by your art, my dearest father, you have

  Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.

  The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,

  But that the sea, mounting to the welkin’s cheek,

  Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered

  With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,

  Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,

  Dash’d all to pieces. O, the cry did knock

  Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish’d.

  Had I been any god of power, I would

  Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere

  It should the good ship so have swallow’d and

  The fraughting souls within her.

  Prospero

  Be collected:

  No more amazement: tell your piteous heart

  There’s no harm done.

  Miranda

  O, woe the day!

  Prospero

  No harm.

  I have done nothing but in care of thee,

  Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who

  Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing

  Of whence I am, nor that I am more better

  Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,

  And thy no greater father.

  Miranda

  More to know

  Did never meddle with my thoughts.

  Prospero

  ’Tis time

  I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,

  And pluck my magic garment from me. So:

  Lays down his mantle

  Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.

  The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch’d

  The very virtue of compassion in thee,

  I have with such provision in mine art

  So safely ordered that there is no soul —

  No, not so much perdition as an hair

  Betid to any creature in the vessel

  Which thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st sink. Sit down;

  For thou must now know farther.

  Miranda

  You have often

  Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp’d

  And left me to a bootless inquisition,

  Concluding ‘stay: not yet.’

  Prospero

  The hour’s now come;

  The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;

  Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember

  A time before we came unto this cell?

  I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not

  Out three years old.

  Miranda

  Certainly, sir, I can.

  Prospero

  By what? by any other house or person?

  Of any thing the image tell me that

  Hath kept with thy remembrance.

  Miranda

  ’Tis far off

  And rather like a dream than an assurance

  That my remembrance warrants. Had I not

  Four or five women once that tended me?

  Prospero

  Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it

  That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else

  In the dark backward and abysm of time?

  If thou remember’st aught ere thou camest here,

  How thou camest here thou mayst.

  Miranda

  But that I do not.

  Prospero

  Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,

  Thy father was the Duke of Milan and

  A prince of power.

  Miranda

  Sir, are not you my father?

  Prospero

  Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and

  She said thou wast my
daughter; and thy father

  Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir

  And princess no worse issued.

  Miranda

  O the heavens!

  What foul play had we, that we came from thence?

  Or blessed was’t we did?

  Prospero

  Both, both, my girl:

  By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heaved thence,

  But blessedly holp hither.

  Miranda

  O, my heart bleeds

  To think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to,

  Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.

  Prospero

  My brother and thy uncle, call’d Antonio —

  I pray thee, mark me — that a brother should

  Be so perfidious!— he whom next thyself

  Of all the world I loved and to him put

  The manage 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 liberal arts

  Without a parallel; those being all my study,

  The government I cast upon my brother

  And to my state grew stranger, being transported

  And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle —

  Dost thou attend me?

  Miranda

  Sir, most heedfully.

  Prospero

  Being once perfected how to grant suits,

  How to deny them, who to advance and who

  To trash for over-topping, new created

  The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed ’em,

  Or else new form’d ’em; having both the key

  Of officer and office, set all hearts i’ the state

  To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was

  The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,

  And suck’d my verdure out on’t. Thou attend’st not.

  Miranda

  O, good sir, I do.

  Prospero

  I pray thee, mark me.

  I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated

  To closeness and the bettering of my mind

  With that which, but by being so retired,

  O’er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother

  Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,

  Like a good parent, did beget of him

  A falsehood in its contrary as great

  As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,

  A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,

  Not only with what my revenue yielded,

  But what my power might else exact, like one

  Who having into truth, by telling of it,

  Made such a sinner of his memory,

  To credit his own lie, he did believe

  He was indeed the duke; out o’ the substitution

  And executing the outward face of royalty,

  With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing —