Fer.
Pro.

I warrant you, sir.
Well.-

Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary,1
Rather than want a spirit: appear, and pertly.-
No tongue, all eyes; be silent.

Enter Iris.

[Soft Music.

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 peonied and lilied 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, steril, 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. [Juno descends.] Her peacocks fly amain: Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.

Enter Ceres.

Cer. 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,

And some donation freely to estate

On the bless'd lovers.

Cer.

Tell me, heavenly bow,

If Venus, or her son, as thou dost know,

Do now attend the Queen? Since they did plot
The means that dusky Dis my daughter got,
Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company

I have forsworn.

Iris.

Be not afraid: I met her deity

Of her society

Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son
Dove-drawn with her.

Cer.

Highest Queen of State,

Great Juno comes: I know her by her gait.

Enter Juno.

Juno. How does my bounteous sister? Go with me, To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be,

And honour'd in their issue.

VOL. I.

1 Overplus.

CER.

[They sing.]

JUNO. Honour, riches, marriage, blessing,
Long continuance, and increasing,
Hourly joys be still upon you!
Juno sings her blessings on you.
Earth's increase, foison plenty,
Barns, and garners never empty;
Vines, with clust'ring bunches growing;
Plants, with goodly burthen bowing;
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.

Fer. This is a most majestic vision, and
Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold
To think these spirits?

Pro.

Spirits, which by mine art

I have from their confines call'd to enact

My present fancies.

Fer.

Let me live here ever:

So rare a wonder'd father, and a wise,

Makes this place Paradise.

Pro.

Sweet now, silence!

[Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment. Juno and Ceres whisper seriously;

There's something else to do. Hush, and be mute,

Or else our spell is marr'd.

Iris. You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the wand'ring brooks, With your sedg'd crowns and ever-harmless looks,

Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land

Answer your summons: Juno does command.
Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
A contract of true love: be not too late.

Enter certain Nymphs.

You sun-burn'd sicklemen, of August weary,
Come hither from the furrow, and be merry.
Make holy day your rye-straw hats put on,
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
In country footing.

Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join with the
Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards the end whereof
Prospero starts suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a
strange, hollow, and confused noise, they heavily vanish.
Pro. [Aside.] I had forgot that foul conspiracy

Of the beast Caliban, and his confederates

Against my life; the minute of their plot

Is almost come.- [To the Spirits.] Well done.-Avoid; no more. Fer. This is most strange; your father's in some passion That works him strongly.

Mira.

Never till this day,

Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd.

Pro. You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort,

As if you were dismay'd be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:

And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
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.-Sir, I am vex'd:

Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled :
Be not disturbed with my infirmity.

If you be pleas'd, retire into my cell,

And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk,

To still my beating mind.

Fer. Mira. We wish your peace.

[Exeunt.

Pro. Come with a thought: I thank thee, Ariel: come!

Enter Ariel.

Ari. Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure?

Pro.

Spirit,

We must prepare to meet with Caliban.

Ari. Ay, my commander, when I presented Ceres I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear'd,

Lest I might anger thee.

Pro. Say again, where did'st thou leave these varlets?
Ari. I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking :

So full of valour, that they smote the air

For breathing in their faces, beat the ground
For kissing of their feet, yet always bending
Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor,

At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears,
Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses,

As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears,
That, calf-like, they my lowing follow'd, through

Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking gorse, and thorns,
Which enter'd their frail shins: at last I left them

I' the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell,

Up to th' chins.

Pro.

This was well done, my bird.

Thy shape invisible retain thou still :

The trumpery in my house, go, bring it hither,
For stale to catch these thieves.

I go, I go.

Ari.
Pro. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature
Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;
And as with age his body uglier grows,
So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,

Enter Ariel, loaden with glistering apparel, &c.
Even to roaring.-Come, hang them on this line.

1 Bait.

[Exit.

Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet.

Cal. Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may

Not hear a foot fall: we are now near his cell.

Ste. Monster, your fairy, which, you say, is a harmless fairy, has done little better than played the Jack1 with us.

Trin. Monster, my nose is in great indignation.

Ste. So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take a displeasure against you; look you,

Trin. Thou wert but a lost monster.

Cal. Good my lord, give me thy favour 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.

Trin. Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,—

Ste. There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, monster, but an infinite loss.

Trin. That's more to me than my wetting: yet this is your harmless fairy, monster.

S. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears for my labour. Cal. Pr'ythee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here,

This is the mouth o' th' cell: no noise, and enter:

Do that good mischief, which may make this island
Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,

For aye thy foot-licker.

Ste. Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts. Trin. O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look,

what a wardrobe here is for thee?

Cal. Let it alone, thou fool: it is but trash.

Trin. O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery: -O King Stephano!

S. Put off that gown, Trinculo: by this hand, I'll have that gown. Trin. Thy grace shall have it.

Cal. The dropsy drown this fool! what do you mean

To doat thus on such luggage? Let's alone.

And do the murther first: if he awake,

From toe to crown he'll fill our skin with pinches ;

Make us strange stuff.

Ste. Be you quiet, monster.-Mistress line, is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: now, jerkin? you are like to lose your hair, and prove a bald jerkin.

Trin. Do, do we steal by line and level, and 't like your grace. Ste. I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment for 't: wit shall not go unrewarded, while I am King of this country. "Steal by line and level," is an excellent pass of pate; there's another garment for't.

Trin. Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and away with the rest.

Cal. I will have none on't: we shall lose our time,

And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes

With foreheads villainous low.

Ste. Monster, lay to your fingers help to bear this away, where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you out of my kingdom. Go to; carry this.

1 Ignis fatuus.

Trin. And this.

Ste. Ay, and this.

A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of hounds, and hunt them about; Prospero and Ariel setting them on.

Pro. Hey, Mountain, hey!

Ari. Silver! there goes, Silver!

Pro. Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark, hark:

[Cal., Ste., and Trin., are driven out.

Go, charge my goblins that they grind their joints

With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews

With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them.
Than pard' or cat o' mountain.

Ari.

Hark! they roar.

Pro. Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour

Lie at my mercy all mine enemies:

Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
Shalt have the air at freedom. For a little,
Follow, and do me service.

[Exeunt.

Act Fifth.

SCENE I.-BEFORE THE CELL OF PROSPERO.

Enter Prospero in his magic robes; and Ariel.
Pro. 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?
Ari. On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,
You said our work should cease.

Pro.

I did say so,
When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,
How fares the King and his?

Ari.
Confin'd together
In the same fashion as you gave in charge:
Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,

In the lime-grove which weather-fends your cell;
They cannot budge till you release. The King,
His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly

Him that you term'd, sir, the good old lord, Gonzalo :
His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops

From eaves of reeds.

Your charm so strongly works then

That if you now beheld them, your affections

Would become tender.

Pro. Dost thou think so, spirit?

Ari. Mine would, sir, were I human.

Pro.

And mine shall.

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,

1 Leopard.