William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

‘Tis as impossible that he’s undrown’d

As he that sleeps here swims.

SEBASTIAN.

I have no hope

That he’s undrown’d.

ANTONIO.

O! out of that ‘no hope’

What great hope have you! No hope that way is

Another way so high a hope, that even

Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

But doubts discovery there. Will you grant with me

That Ferdinand is drown’d?

SEBASTIAN.

He’s gone.

ANTONIO.

Then tell me,

Who’s the next heir of Naples?

SEBASTIAN.

Claribel.

ANTONIO.

She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells

Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples

Can have no note, unless the sun were post—

The Man i’ th’ Moon’s too slow—till newborn chins

Be rough and razorable: she that from whom

We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again,

And by that destiny, to perform an act

Whereof what’s past is prologue, what to come

In yours and my discharge.

SEBASTIAN.

What stuff is this!—How say you?

‘Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s Queen of Tunis;

So is she heir of Naples; ‘twixt which regions

There is some space.

ANTONIO.

A space whose every cubit

Seems to cry out ‘How shall that Claribel

Measure us back to Naples?—Keep in Tunis,

And let Sebastian wake.’—Say this were death

That now hath seiz’d them; why, they were no worse

Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples

As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate

As amply and unnecessarily

As this Gonzalo: I myself could make

A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore

The mind that I do! What a sleep were this

For your advancement! Do you understand me?

SEBASTIAN.

Methinks I do.

ANTONIO.

And how does your content

Tender your own good fortune?

SEBASTIAN.

I remember

You did supplant your brother Prospero.

ANTONIO.

True.

And look how well my garments sit upon me;

Much feater than before; my brother’s servants

Were then my fellows; now they are my men.

SEBASTIAN.

But, for your conscience,—

ANTONIO.

Ay, sir; where lies that? If ‘twere a kibe,

‘Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not

This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences

That stand ‘twixt me and Milan, candied be they

And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother,

No better than the earth he lies upon,

If he were that which now he’s like, that’s dead:

Whom I, with this obedient steel,—three inches of it,—

Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,

To the perpetual wink for aye might put

This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who

Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,

They’ll take suggestion as a cat laps milk:

They’ll tell the clock to any business that

We say befits the hour.

SEBASTIAN.

Thy case, dear friend,

Shall be my precedent: as thou got’st Milan,

I’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke

Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay’st,

And I the king shall love thee.

ANTONIO. Draw together:

And when I rear my hand, do you the like,

To fall it on Gonzalo.

SEBASTIAN.

O! but one word.

[They converse apart.]

[Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible.]

ARIEL.

My master through his art foresees the danger

That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth—

For else his project dies—to keep thee living.

[Sings in GONZALO’S ear]

While you here do snoring lie,

Open-ey’d Conspiracy

His time doth take.

If of life you keep a care,

Shake off slumber, and beware.

Awake! awake!

ANTONIO.

Then let us both be sudden.

GONZALO.

Now, good angels

Preserve the King!

[They wake]

ALONSO.

Why, how now! Ho, awake! Why are you drawn?

Wherefore this ghastly looking?

GONZALO.

What’s the matter?

SEBASTIAN.

Whiles we stood here securing your repose,

Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing

Like bulls, or rather lions; did’t not wake you?

It struck mine ear most terribly.

ALONSO.

I heard nothing.

ANTONIO.

O! ‘twas a din to fright a monster’s ear,

To make an earthquake: sure it was the roar

Of a whole herd of lions.

ALONSO.

Heard you this, Gonzalo?

GONZALO.

Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,

And that a strange one too, which did awake me.

I shak’d you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes open’d,

I saw their weapons drawn:—there was a noise,

That’s verily. ‘Tis best we stand upon our guard,

Or that we quit this place: let’s draw our weapons.

ALONSO.

Lead off this ground: and let’s make further search

For my poor son.

GONZALO.

Heavens keep him from these beasts!

For he is, sure, i’ th’ island.

ALONSO.

Lead away.

[Exit with the others.]

ARIEL.

Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:

So, King, go safely on to seek thy son.

[Exit]

SCENE II. Another part of the island

[Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard]

CALIBAN.

All the infections that the sun sucks up

From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him

By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,

And yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch,

Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i’ the mire,

Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark

Out of my way, unless he bid ‘em; but

For every trifle are they set upon me:

Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me,

And after bite me; then like hedgehogs which

Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount

Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I

All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues

Do hiss me into madness.—

[Enter TRINCULO]

Lo, now, lo!

Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me

For bringing wood in slowly. I’ll fall flat;

Perchance he will not mind me.

TRINCULO. Here’s neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i’ th’ wind; yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls.—What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish: a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of not of the newest Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I in England now,—as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg’d like a man, and his fins like arms! Warm, o’ my troth! I do now let loose my opinion: hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by thunderbolt. [Thunder] Alas, the storm is come again! My best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.

[Enter STEPHANO singing; a bottle in his hand]

STEPHANO.

I shall no more to sea, to sea,

Here shall I die a-shore:—

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral:

Well, here’s my comfort.

[Drinks]

The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,

The gunner, and his mate,