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Another Part of the Island. | |
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Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others. | |
| Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have cause, | |
| So have we all, of joy; for our escape | |
| Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe | 5 |
| Is common: every day some sailor’s wife, | |
| The masters of some merchant and the merchant, | |
| Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, | |
| I mean our preservation, few in millions | |
| Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh | 10 |
| Our sorrow with our comfort. | |
| Alon. Prithee, peace. | |
| Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. | |
| Ant. The visitor will not give him o’er so. | |
| Seb. Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike. | 15 |
| Gon. Sir,— | |
| Seb. One: tell. | |
| Gon. When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d, | |
| Comes to the entertainer— | |
| Seb. A dollar. | 20 |
| Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed. | |
| Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. | |
| Gon. Therefore, my lord,— | |
| Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! | |
| Alon. I prithee, spare. | 25 |
| Gon. Well, I have done: but yet— | |
| Seb. He will be talking. | |
| Ant. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow? | |
| Seb. The old cock. | |
| Ant. The cockerel. | 30 |
| Seb. Done. The wager? | |
| Ant. A laughter. | |
| Seb. A match! | |
| Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,— | |
| Seb. Ha, ha, ha! So you’re paid. | 35 |
| Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,— | |
| Seb. Yet— | |
| Adr. Yet— | |
| Ant. He could not miss it. | |
| Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance. | 40 |
| Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. | |
| Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered. | |
| Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. | |
| Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. | |
| Ant. Or as ’twere perfumed by a fen. | 45 |
| Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life. | |
| Ant. True; save means to live. | |
| Seb. Of that there’s none, or little. | |
| Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! | |
| Ant. The ground indeed is tawny. | 50 |
| Seb. With an eye of green in ’t. | |
| Ant. He misses not much. | |
| Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. | |
| Gon. But the rarity of it is,—which is indeed almost beyond credit,— | |
| Seb. As many vouch’d rarities are. | 55 |
| Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses; being rather new-dyed than stain’d with salt water. | |
| Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies? | |
| Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. | |
| Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king’s fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. | |
| Seb. ’Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. | 60 |
| Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen. | |
| Gon. Not since widow Dido’s time. | |
| Ant. Widow! a pox o’ that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido! | |
| Seb. What if he had said, widower Æneas too? Good Lord, how you take it! | |
| Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. | 65 |
| Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. | |
| Adr. Carthage? | |
| Gon. I assure you, Carthage. | |
| Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. | |
| Seb. He hath rais’d the wall, and houses too. | 70 |
| Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next? | |
| Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple. | |
| Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands. | |
| Alon. Ay? | |
| Ant. Why, in good time. | 75 |
| Gon. [To ALON.] Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. | |
| Ant. And the rarest that e’er came there. | |
| Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. | |
| Ant. O! widow Dido; ay, widow Dido. | |
| Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. | 80 |
| Ant. That sort was well fish’d for. | |
| Gon. When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage? | |
| Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against | |
| The stomach of my sense. Would I had never | |
| Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, | 85 |
| My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too, | |
| Who is so far from Italy remov’d, | |
| I ne’er again shall see her. O thou, mine heir | |
| Of Naples and of Milan! what strange fish | |
| Hath made his meal on thee? | 90 |
| Fran. Sir, he may live: | |
| I saw him beat the surges under him, | |
| And ride upon their backs: he trod the water, | |
| Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted | |
| The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head | 95 |
| ’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar’d | |
| Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke | |
| To the shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bow’d, | |
| As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt | |
| He came alive to land. | 100 |
| Alon. No, no; he’s gone. | |
| Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss, | |
| That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, | |
| But rather lose her to an African; | |
| Where she at least is banish’d from your eye, | 105 |
| Who hath cause to wet the grief on ’t. | |
| Alon. Prithee, peace. | |
| Seb. You were kneel’d to and importun’d otherwise | |
| By all of us; and the fair soul herself | |
| Weigh’d between loathness and obedience, at | 110 |
| Which end o’ the beam should bow. We have lost your son, | |
| I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have | |
| More widows in them of this business’ making, | |
| Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault’s | |
| Your own. | 115 |
| Alon. So is the dearest of the loss. | |
| Gon. My lord Sebastian, | |
| The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness | |
| And time to speak it in; you rub the sore, | |
| When you should bring the plaster. | 120 |
| Seb. Very well. | |
| Ant. And most chirurgeonly. | |
| Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, | |
| When you are cloudy. | |
| Seb. Foul weather? | 125 |
| Ant. Very foul. | |
| Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,— | |
| Ant. He’d sow ’t with nettle-seed. | |
| Seb. Or docks, or mallows. | |
| Gon. And were the king on ’t, what would I do? | 130 |
| Seb. Scape being drunk for want of wine. | |
| Gon. I’ the commonwealth I would by contraries | |
| Execute all things; for no kind of traffic | |
| Would I admit; no name of magistrate; | |
| Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, | 135 |
| And use of service, none; contract, succession, | |
| Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; | |
| No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; | |
| No occupation; all men idle, all; | |
| And women too, but innocent and pure; | 140 |
| No sovereignty,— | |
| Seb. Yet he would be king on ’t. | |
| Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. | |
| Gon. All things in common nature should produce | |
| Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, | 145 |
| Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, | |
| Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, | |
| Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, | |
| To feed my innocent people. | |
| Seb. No marrying ’mong his subjects? | 150 |
| Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. | |
| Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, | |
| To excel the golden age. | |
| Seb. Save his majesty! | |
| Ant. Long live Gonzalo! | 155 |
| Alon. And,—do you mark me, sir? | |
| Alon. Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. | |
| Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing. | |
| Ant. ’Twas you we laugh’d at. | |
| Gon. Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you; so you may continue and laugh at nothing still. | 160 |
| Ant. What a blow was there given! | |
| Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long. | |
| Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle: you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. | |
| |
Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music. | |
| Seb. We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling. | 165 |
| Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. | |
| Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy? | |
| Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. [All sleep but ALON., SEB., and ANT. | |
| Alon. What! all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes | |
| Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find | 170 |
| They are inclin’d to do so. | |
| Seb. Please you, sir, | |
| Do not omit the heavy offer of it: | |
| It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth | |
| It is a comforter. | 175 |
| Ant. We two, my lord, | |
| Will guard your person while you take your rest, | |
| And watch your safety. | |
| Alon. Thank you. Wondrous heavy. [ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL. | |
| Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! | 180 |
| Ant. It is the quality o’ the climate. | |
| Seb. Why | |
| Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not | |
| Myself dispos’d to sleep. | |
| Ant. Nor I: my spirits are nimble. | 185 |
| They fell together all, as by consent; | |
| They dropp’d, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, | |
| Worthy Sebastian? O! what might?—No more:— | |
| And yet methinks I see it in thy face, | |
| What thou should’st be. The occasion speaks thee; and | 190 |
| My strong imagination sees a crown | |
| Dropping upon thy head. | |
| Seb. What! art thou waking? | |
| Ant. Do you not hear me speak? | |
| Seb. I do; and surely, | 195 |
| It is a sleepy language, and thou speak’st | |
| Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? | |
| This is a strange repose, to be asleep | |
| With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, | |
| And yet so fast asleep. | 200 |
| Ant. Noble Sebastian, | |
| Thou let’st thy fortune sleep—die rather; wink’st | |
| Whiles thou art waking. | |
| Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly: | |
| There’s meaning in thy snores. | 205 |
| Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you | |
| Must be so too, if heed me; which to do | |
| Trebles thee o’er. | |
| Seb. Well; I am standing water. | |
| Ant. I’ll teach you how to flow. | 210 |
| Seb. Do so: to ebb, | |
| Hereditary sloth instructs me. | |
| Ant. O! | |
| If you but knew how you the purpose cherish | |
| Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, | 215 |
| You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, | |
| Most often do so near the bottom run | |
| By their own fear or sloth. | |
| Seb. Prithee, say on: | |
| The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim | 220 |
| A matter from thee, and a birth indeed | |
| Which throes thee much to yield. | |
| Ant. Thus, sir: | |
| Although this lord of weak remembrance, this | |
| Who shall be of as little memory | 225 |
| 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, | |
| ’Tis as impossible that he’s undrown’d | |
| As he that sleeps here swims. | 230 |
| Seb. I have no hope | |
| That he’s undrown’d. | |
| Ant. O! out of that ’no hope | |
| What great hope have you! no hope that way is | |
| Another way so high a hope that even | 235 |
| Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, | |
| But doubts discovery there. Will you grant with me | |
| That Ferdinand is drown’d? | |
| Seb. He’s gone. | |
| Ant. Then tell me | 240 |
| Who’s the next heir of Naples? | |
| Seb. Claribel. | |
| Ant. She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells | |
| Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples | |
| Can have no note, unless the sun were post— | 245 |
| The man i’ th’ moon’s too slow—till new-born chins | |
| Be rough and razorable: she that, from whom? | |
| We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again, | |
| And by that destiny to perform an act | |
| Whereof what’s past is prologue, what to come | 250 |
| In yours and my discharge. | |
| Seb. What stuff is this!—How say you? | |
| ’Tis true my brother’s daughter’s Queen of Tunis; | |
| So is she heir of Naples; ’twixt which regions | |
| There is some space. | 255 |
| Ant. A space whose every cubit | |
| Seems to cry out, ‘How shall that Claribel | |
| Measure us back to Naples?—Keep in Tunis, | |
| And let Sebastian wake!’—Say, this were death | |
| That now hath seiz’d them; why, they were no worse | 260 |
| Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples | |
| As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate | |
| As amply and unnecessarily | |
| As this Gonzalo; I myself could make | |
| A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore | 265 |
| The mind that I do! what a sleep were this | |
| For your advancement! Do you understand me? | |
| Seb. Methinks I do. | |
| Ant. And how does your content | |
| Tender your own good fortune? | 270 |
| Seb. I remember | |
| You did supplant your brother Prospero. | |
| Ant. True: | |
| And look how well my garments sit upon me; | |
| Much feather than before; my brother’s servants | 275 |
| Were then my fellows; now they are my men. | |
| Seb. But, for your conscience,— | |
| Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kibe, | |
| ’Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not | |
| This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, | 280 |
| That stand ’twixt me and Milan, candied be they, | |
| And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother, | |
| No better than the earth he lies upon, | |
| If he were that which now he’s like, that’s dead; | |
| Whom I, with this obedient steel,—three inches of it,— | 285 |
| Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, | |
| To the perpetual wink for aye might put | |
| This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who | |
| Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, | |
| They’ll take suggestion as a cat laps milk; | 290 |
| They’ll tell the clock to any business that | |
| We say befits the hour. | |
| Seb. Thy case, dear friend, | |
| Shall be my precedent: as thou got’st Milan, | |
| I’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke | 295 |
| Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay st, | |
| And I the king shall love thee. | |
| Ant. Draw together; | |
| And when I rear my hand, do you the like, | |
| To fall it on Gonzalo. | 300 |
| Seb. O! but one word. [They converse apart. | |
| |
Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible. | |
| Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger | |
| That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth— | |
For else his project dies—to keep thee living. [Sings in GONZALO’S ear. | While you here do snoring lie, |
| Open-ey’d Conspiracy |
| His time doth take. |
| If of life you keep a care, |
| Shake off slumber, and beware: |
| Awake! awake! |
| 305 |
| Ant. Then let us both be sudden. | |
| Gon. Now, good angels | |
| Preserve the king! [They wake. | |
| Alon. Why, how now! ho, awake! Why are you drawn? | |
| Wherefore this ghastly looking? | 310 |
| Gon. What’s the matter? | |
| Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, | |
| Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing | |
| Like bulls, or rather lions; did ’t not wake you? | |
| It struck mine ear most terribly. | 315 |
| Alon. I heard nothing. | |
| Ant. O! ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear, | |
| To make an earthquake: sure it was the roar | |
| Of a whole herd of lions. | |
| Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo? | 320 |
| Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, | |
| And that a strange one too, which did awake me. | |
| I shak’d you, sir, and cry’d; as mine eyes open’d, | |
| I saw their weapons drawn:—there was a noise, | |
| That’s verily. ’Tis best we stand upon our guard, | 325 |
| Or that we quit this place: let’s draw our weapons. | |
| Alon. Lead off this ground, and let’s make further search | |
| For my poor son. | |
| Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! | |
| For he is, sure, i’ the island. | 330 |
| Alon. Lead away. [Exit with the others. | |
| Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done: | |
| So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exit. | |
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