The Tempest

ALON. You the like loss? PROS. As great to me as late, and supportable To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker Than you may call to comfort you; for I Have lost my daughter.

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.

But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, I here could pluck his Highness’ frown upon you And justify you traitors. At this time I will tell no tales.

by whose aid (Weak masters though ye be) I have bedimm’d The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds, And ’twixt the green sea and the azur’d vault Set roaring war;

First, noble friend, Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot Be measur’d or confin’d.

Graves at my command Have wak’d their sleepers, op’d, and let ’em forth By my so potent art.

In this last tempest. I perceive these lords At this encounter do so much admire That they devour their reason, and scarce think Their eyes do offices of truth, their words Are natural breath;

No more yet of this, For ’tis a chronicle of day by day, Not a relation for a breakfast, nor Befitting this first meeting.

Now does my project gather to a head: My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and Time Goes upright with his carriage. How’s the day?

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.

On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

The best news is, that we have safely found Our king and company; the next, our ship— Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split— Is tight and yare, and bravely rigg’d as when We first put out to sea.

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.

Though with their high wrongs I am strook to th’ quick, Yet, with my nobler reason, ’gainst my fury Do I take part. The rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance.

to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak With his own bolt;

And like this insubstantial pageant faded Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.

Appear, and pertly! No tongue! All eyes! Be silent.

Earth’s increase, foison plenty, Barns and garners never empty; Vines with clust’ring bunches growing, Plants with goodly burden bowing;

FER. This is strange. Your father’s in some passion That works him strongly. MIR. Never till this day Saw I him touch’d with anger, so distemper’d.

Good my lord, give me thy favor still. Be patient, for the prize I’ll bring thee to Shall hoodwink this mischance; therefore speak softly, All’s hush’d as midnight yet.

Here thought they to have done Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid Till Hymen’s torch be lighted;

Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour Lies at my mercy all mine enemies. Shortly shall all my labors end, and thou Shalt have the air at freedom. For a little Follow, and do me service.

Spring come to you at the farthest In the very end of harvest! Scarcity and want shall shun you, Ceres’ blessing so is on you.

You sunburn’d sicklemen, of August weary, Come hither from the furrow and be merry. Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on, And these fresh nymphs encounter every one In country footing.

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 honor 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.

At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give; and much less take What I shall die to want. But this is trifling, And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows.

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.

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.

But If thou dost break her virgin-knot before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy rite be minist’red, No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall To make this contract grow;

By’r lakin, I can go no further, sir, My old bones aches. Here’s a maze trod indeed Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience, I needs must rest me.

Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it No longer for my flatterer. He is drown’d Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.

For several virtues Have I lik’d several women, never any With so full soul but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow’d, And put it to the foil.

Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service, there resides, To make me slave to it, and for your sake Am I this patient log-man.

I cannot too much muse Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound expressing (Although they want the use of tongue) a kind Of excellent dumb discourse.

I would not wish Any companion in the world but you; Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle Something too wildly, and my father’s precepts I therein do forget.

If hollowly, invert What best is boded me to mischief! I, Beyond all limit of what else i’ th’ world, Do love, prize, honor you.

Old lord, I cannot blame thee, Who am myself attach’d with weariness To th’ dulling of my spirits. Sit down, and rest.

There be some sports are painful, and their labor Delight in them sets off; some kinds of baseness Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters Point to rich ends.

Trinculo, run into no further danger; interrupt the monster one word further, and by this hand, I’ll turn my mercy out o’ doors, and make a stock-fish of thee.

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.

All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease!

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.

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 bumbard that would shed his liquor.

I have not scap’d drowning to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, “As proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground”; and it shall be said so again while Stephano breathes at’ nostrils.

No more dams I’ll make for fish, Nor fetch in firing At requiring, Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish.

Twenty consciences, That stand ’twixt me and Milan, candied be they, And melt ere they molest!

All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavor: treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of it own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.

Although this lord of weak remembrance, this Who shall be of as little memory When he is earth’d, hath here almost persuaded (For he’s a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade) the King his son’s alive,

Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause (So have we all) of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss.

but for the miracle (I mean our preservation), few in millions Can speak like us. Then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort.