William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

ARIEL.

You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,

That hath to instrument this lower world

And what is in’t,—the never-surfeited sea

Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island

Where man doth not inhabit; you ‘mongst men

Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad:

[Seeing ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, &c., draw their swords]

And even with such-like valour men hang and drown

Their proper selves. You fools! I and my fellows

Are ministers of fate: the elements

Of whom your swords are temper’d may as well

Wound the loud winds, or with bemock’d-at stabs

Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish

One dowle that’s in my plume; my fellow-ministers

Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,

Your swords are now too massy for your strengths,

And will not be uplifted. But, remember—

For that’s my business to you,—that you three

From Milan did supplant good Prospero;

Expos’d unto the sea, which hath requit it,

Him, and his innocent child: for which foul deed

The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have

Incens’d the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,

Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,

They have bereft; and do pronounce, by me

Lingering perdition,—worse than any death

Can be at once,—shall step by step attend

You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from—

Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls

Upon your heads,—is nothing but heart-sorrow,

And a clear life ensuing.

[He vanishes in thunder: then, to soft music, enter the Shapes again, and dance, with mocks and mows, and carry out the table]

PROSPERO.

[Aside] Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou

Perform’d, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring;

Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated

In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life

And observation strange, my meaner ministers

Their several kinds have done. My high charms work,

And these mine enemies are all knit up

In their distractions; they now are in my power;

And in these fits I leave them, while I visit

Young Ferdinand,—whom they suppose is drown’d,—

And his and mine lov’d darling.

[Exit above]

GONZALO.

I’ the name of something holy, sir, why stand you

In this strange stare?

ALONSO.

O, it is monstrous! monstrous!

Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it;

The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder,

That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc’d

The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.

Therefore my son i’ th’ ooze is bedded; and

I’ll seek him deeper than e’er plummet sounded,

And with him there lie mudded.

[Exit]

SEBASTIAN.

But one fiend at a time,

I’ll fight their legions o’er.

ANTONIO.

I’ll be thy second.

[Exeunt SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO]

GONZALO.

All three of them are desperate: their great guilt,

Like poison given to work a great time after,

Now ‘gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you

That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly

And hinder them from what this ecstasy

May now provoke them to.

ADRIAN.

Follow, I pray you.

[Exeunt]

ACT 4

SCENE I. Before PROSPERO’S cell

[Enter PROSPERO! FERDINAND, and MIRANDA]

PROSPERO.

If I have too austerely punish’d you,

Your compensation makes amends: for

Have given you here a third of mine own life,

Or that for which I live; who once again

I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations

Were but my trials of thy love, and thou

Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore Heaven,

I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand!

Do not smile at me that I boast her off,

For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise,

And make it halt behind her.

FERDINAND.

I do believe it

Against an oracle.

PROSPERO.

Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition

Worthily purchas’d, take my daughter: but

If thou dost break her virgin knot before

All sanctimonious ceremonies may

With full and holy rite be minister’d,

No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall

To make this contract grow; but barren hate,

Sour-ey’d disdain, and discord, shall bestrew

The union of your bed with weeds so loathly

That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed,

As Hymen’s lamps shall light you.

FERDINAND.

As I hope

For quiet days, fair issue, and long life,

With such love as ‘tis now, the murkiest den,

The most opportune place, the strong’st suggestion

Our worser genius can, shall never melt

Mine honour into lust, to take away

The edge of that day’s celebration,

When I shall think, or Phoebus’ steeds are founder’d,

Or Night kept chain’d below.

PROSPERO.

Fairly spoke:

Sit, then, and talk with her, she is thine own.

What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!

[Enter ARIEL]

ARIEL.

What would my potent master? here I am.

PROSPERO.

Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service

Did worthily perform; and I must use you

In such another trick. Go bring the rabble,

O’er whom I give thee power, here to this place;

Incite them to quick motion; for I must

Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple

Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise,

And they expect it from me.

ARIEL.

Presently?

PROSPERO.

Ay, with a twink.

ARIEL.

Before you can say ‘Come’ and ‘Go,’

And breathe twice; and cry ‘so, so,’

Each one, tripping on his toe,

Will be here with mop and mow.

Do you love me, master? no?

PROSPERO.

Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach

Till thou dost hear me call.

ARIEL.

Well, I conceive.

[Exit]

PROSPERO.

Look, thou be true; do not give dalliance

Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw

To th’ fire i’ the blood: be more abstemious,

Or else good night your vow!

FERDINAND.

I warrant you, sir;

The white-cold virgin snow upon my heart

Abates the ardour of my liver.

PROSPERO.

Well.—

Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary,

Rather than want a spirit: appear, and pertly.

No tongue! all eyes! be silent.

[Soft music]

[A Masque. Enter IRIS]

IRIS.

Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas

Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and peas;

Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,

And flat meads thatch’d with stover, them to keep;

Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims,

Which spongy April at thy hest betrims,

To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves,

Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,

Being lass-lorn: thy pole-clipt vineyard;

And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard,

Where thou thyself dost air: the Queen o’ the sky,

Whose watery arch and messenger am I,

Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace,

Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,

To come and sport; her peacocks fly amain:

Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.

[Enter CERES]

CERES.

Hail, many-colour’d messenger, that ne’er

Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;

Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers

Diffusest honey drops, refreshing showers:

And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown

My bosky acres and my unshrubb’d down,

Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy queen

Summon’d me hither to this short-grass’d green?

IRIS.

A contract of true love to celebrate,