SCENE I. On a Ship at Sea. A Storm, with Thunder and Lightning. Mast. BOATSWAIN, Boats. Here, master: what cheer? Mast. Good: speak to the mariners: fall to't yarely, or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. Enter Mariners. [Exit. Boats. Heigh, my hearts; cheerly, cheerly, my hearts; yare, yare: take in the top-sail: 'tend to the master's whistle.-Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough! Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO, and others. Alon. Good boatswain, have care. inaster? Play the men. Boats. I pray now, keep below. Where is the Boats. Do you not hear him? You mar cur labour! keep your cabins: you do assist the storm. Gon. Nay, good, be patient. Boats. When the sea is. Hence! What care these roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence: trouble us not. Gon. Good; yet remember whom thou hast aboard. Boats. 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 [Exit. say. Gon. 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. Boats. Down with the top-mast; yare ; lower, lower; bring her to try with main course. [A Cry within.] Á 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? Seb. A pox o'your throat! you bawling, blasphemous, uncharitable dog! Boats. Work you, then. Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent noisemaker, we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. Gon. I'll warrant him from drowning; though the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as leaky as an unstaunched wench. Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; set her two courses; off to sea again, lay her off. Enter Mariners, wet. Mar. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! Boats. What, must our mouths be cold? [Exeunt. Gon. The king and prince at prayers! let us assist For our case is as theirs. [them, Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunk Seb. I am out of patience. ards.[drowning, This wide-chapped rascal-'Would, thou might'st lie The washing of ten tides! Gon. He'll be hanged yet; Though every drop of water swear against it, And gape at wid'st 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.— Ant. Let's all sink with the king. Seb. Let's take leave of him. [Exit. [Exit. Gon. 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. [Exit. SCENE 11. The Island: before the Cell of PROSPERO. Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA. Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, you have With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel, Pro. Be collected; No more amazement: tell your piteous heart, Mira. Pro. O, woe the day! No harm. I have done nothing but in care of thee, Mira. More to know Did never meddle with my thoughts. Pro. "Tis time I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand, [Lays down his Mantle. Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Mira. Sit [down; You have often Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd Pro. The hour's now come; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; I do not think thou can'st; for then thou wast not Mira. Certainly, sir, I can. h kept with thy remembrance. Mira. "Tis far off; And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants: had I not Pro. Thou had'st, and more, Miranda: but how is it, If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here, Mira. Pro. Twelve years since, But that I do not. Miranda, twelve years since, thy father was Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and A princess;-no worse issued. Mira. O, the heavens! What foul play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed was't we did? Pro. By foul play, as thou say'st, Both, both, my girl: O, my heart bleeds To think o'the teen that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance! Please you further. I pray thee, mark me,-that a brother should Without a parallel; those being all my study, And to my state grew stranger, being transported, |