William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

And were brought moping hither.

ARIEL.

[Aside to PROSPERO] Was’t well done?

PROSPERO. [Aside to ARIEL] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free.

ALONSO.

This is as strange a maze as e’er men trod;

And there is in this business more than nature

Was ever conduct of: some oracle

Must rectify our knowledge.

PROSPERO.

Sir, my liege,

Do not infest your mind with beating on

The strangeness of this business: at pick’d leisure,

Which shall be shortly, single I’ll resolve you,—

Which to you shall seem probable—of every

These happen’d accidents; till when, be cheerful

And think of each thing well.—[Aside to ARIEL] Come

hither, spirit;

Set Caliban and his companions free;

Untie the spell. [Exit ARIEL] How fares my gracious sir?

There are yet missing of your company

Some few odd lads that you remember not.

[Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and

TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel.]

STEPHANO. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself, for all is but fortune.—Coragio! bully-monster, Coragio!

TRINCULO. If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here’s a goodly sight.

CALIBAN.

O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed.

How fine my master is! I am afraid

He will chastise me.

SEBASTIAN.

Ha, ha!

What things are these, my lord Antonio?

Will money buy them?

ANTONIO.

Very like; one of them

Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.

PROSPERO.

Mark but the badges of these men, my lords,

Then say if they be true.—This misshapen knave—

His mother was a witch; and one so strong

That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,

And deal in her command without her power.

These three have robb’d me; and this demi-devil,—

For he’s a bastard one,—had plotted with them

To take my life: two of these fellows you

Must know and own; this thing of darkness I

Acknowledge mine.

CALIBAN.

I shall be pinch’d to death.

ALONSO.

Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?

SEBASTIAN.

He is drunk now: where had he wine?

ALONSO.

And Trinculo is reeling-ripe: where should they

Find this grand liquor that hath gilded them?

How cam’st thou in this pickle?

TRINCULO. I have been in such a pickle since I saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of my bones. I shall not fear fly-blowing.

SEBASTIAN.

Why, how now, Stephano!

STEPHANO.

O! touch me not: I am not Stephano, but a cramp.

PROSPERO.

You’d be king o’ the isle, sirrah?

STEPHANO.

I should have been a sore one, then.

ALONSO.

This is as strange a thing as e’er I look’d on.

[Pointing to CALIBAN]

PROSPERO.

He is as disproportioned in his manners

As in his shape.—Go, sirrah, to my cell;

Take with you your companions: as you look

To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.

CALIBAN.

Ay, that I will; and I’ll be wise hereafter,

And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass

Was I, to take this drunkard for a god,

And worship this dull fool!

PROSPERO.

Go to; away!

ALONSO.

Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.

SEBASTIAN.

Or stole it, rather.

[Exeunt CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO.]

PROSPERO.

Sir, I invite your Highness and your train

To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest

For this one night; which—part of it—I’ll waste

With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it

Go quick away; the story of my life

And the particular accidents gone by

Since I came to this isle: and in the morn

I’ll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,

Where I have hope to see the nuptial

Of these our dear-belov’d solemnized;

And thence retire me to my Milan, where

Every third thought shall be my grave.

ALONSO.

I long To hear the story of your life, which must

Take the ear strangely.

PROSPERO.

I’ll deliver all;

And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,

And sail so expeditious that shall catch

Your royal fleet far off.—[Aside to ARIEL] My Ariel,

chick,

That is thy charge: then to the elements

Be free, and fare thou well!—Please you, draw near.

[Exeunt]

EPILOGUE

Table of Contents

[Spoken by PROSPERO]

Now my charms are all o’erthrown,

And what strength I have’s mine own;

Which is most faint; now ‘tis true,

I must be here confin’d by you,

Or sent to Naples. Let me not,

Since I have my dukedom got,

And pardon’d the deceiver, dwell

In this bare island by your spell:

But release me from my bands

With the help of your good hands.

Gentle breath of yours my sails

Must fill, or else my project fails,

Which was to please. Now I want

Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;

And my ending is despair,

Unless I be reliev’d by prayer,

Which pierces so that it assaults

Mercy itself, and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardon’d be,

Let your indulgence set me free.

THE END

Table of Contents

By William Shakespeare

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

ORSINO, Duke of Illyria

SEBASTIAN, brother to Viola

ANTONIO, a sea captain, friend to Sebastian

A SEA CAPTAIN, friend to Viola

VALENTINE, gentleman attending on the Duke

CURIO, gentleman attending on the Duke

SIR TOBY BELCH, uncle to Olivia

SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK

MALVOLIO, steward to Olivia

FABIAN, servant to Olivia

FESTE, a clown, servant to Olivia

OLIVIA, a rich countess

VIOLA

MARIA, Olivia’s waiting woman

Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other

Attendants

SCENE: A city in Illyria, and the seacoast near it

ACT I.

SCENE I. An apartment in the DUKE’S palace.

[Enter DUKE, CURIO, and other LORDS; MUSICIANS attending.]

DUKE.

If music be the food of love, play on;

Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken and so die.

That strain again! It had a dying fall;

O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound

That breathes upon a bank of violets,

Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more;

‘T is not so sweet now as it was before.

O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!

That, notwithstanding thy capacity

Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,

Of what validity and pitch soe’er,

But falls into abatement and low price,

Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy

That it alone is high fantastical.

CURIO.

Will you go hunt, my lord?

DUKE.

What, Curio?

CURIO.

The hart.

DUKE.

Why, so I do, the noblest that I have.

O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,

Methought she purg’d the air of pestilence!

That instant was I turn’d into a hart;

And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,

E’er since pursue me.

[Enter VALENTINE.]

How now! what news from her?

VALENTINE.

So please my lord, I might not be admitted,

But from her handmaid do return this answer:

The element itself, till seven years’ heat,

Shall not behold her face at ample view;

But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk

And water once a day her chamber round

With eye-offending brine; all this to season

A brother’s dead love, which she would keep fresh

And lasting in her sad remembrance.