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6.3: Shakespeare’s The Tempest

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    In a longer play, of several acts, a playwright has more room for development. Like the novel relative to the short story, a longer play can elaborate on the central theme and can even develop several plot and theme threads. Consider William Shakespeare’s The Tempest and the various storylines he develops in this play.

    PROSPERO, former Duke of Milan; father of Miranda
    MIRANDA: Prospero’s young daughter
    IRIS, JUNO, CERES, Nymphs, Reapers: Spirits
    TRINCULO, a jester
    SEBASTIAN, Alonso’s brother
    STEPHANO, a drunken butler
    GONZALO, an old and honest lord
    ANTONIO, Prospero’s brother
    ARIEL, an airy spirit, servant to Prospero
    ADRIAN and FRANCISCO, noblemen; companions of
    ALONSO, king of Naples; father of Ferdinand
    FERDINAND, son and heir of Alonso
    CALIBAN, Prospero’s servant, savage and deformed;
    son of Sycorax
    Master of a Ship, Boatswains, Mariners
    SETTING: A ship at sea during a terrible storm; later,
    a Mediterranean island to which Prospero has been
    banished with Miranda since she was a young child and
    where the ship’s travelers come ashore
    ACT I
    SCENE I. On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise of
    thunder and lightning heard.
    Enter a Master and a Boatswain
    Here, master: what cheer?
    Good, speak to the mariners: fall to’t, yarely,
    or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.
    Enter Mariners
    All the World’s a Stage
    Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!
    yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the
    master’s whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind,
    if room enough!
    GONZALO, and others
    Good boatswain, have care. Where’s the master?
    Play the men. 10
    I pray now, keep below.
    Where is the master, boatswain?
    Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your
    cabins: you do assist the storm.
    Nay, good, be patient.
    When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarersfor the
    name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not.
    Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.
    None that I more love than myself. You are a
    counsellor; if you can command these elements to 20
    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 say.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    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, 30
    for our own doth little advantage. If he be not
    born to be hanged, our case is miserable.
    Re-enter Boatswain
    Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring
    her to try with main-course.
    A cry within
    A plague upon this howling! they are louder than
    the weather or our office.
    Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o’er
    and drown? Have you a mind to sink?
    A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, 40
    incharitable dog!
    Work you then.
    Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker!
    We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.
    I’ll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were
    no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an
    unstanched wench.
    Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off to
    sea again; lay her off.
    Enter Mariners wet 50
    All the World’s a Stage
    All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!
    What, must our mouths be cold?
    The king and prince at prayers! let’s assist them,
    For our case is as theirs.
    I’m out of patience.
    We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:
    This wide-chapp’d rascal—would thou mightst lie drowning
    The washing of ten tides!
    He’ll be hang’d yet,
    Though every drop of water swear against it
    And gape at widest to glut him.
    A confused noise within: ‘Mercy on us!’— 60
    ‘We split, we split!’—’Farewell, my wife and children!’—
    ‘Farewell, brother!’—’We split, we split, we split!’
    Let’s all sink with the king.
    Let’s take leave of him.
    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.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    SCENE II. The island. Before PROSPERO’S cell.
    If by your art, my dearest father, you have 70
    Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
    The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,
    But that the sea, mounting to the welkin’s cheek,
    Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered
    With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,
    Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,
    Dash’d all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
    Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish’d.
    Had I been any god of power, I would
    Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere 80
    It should the good ship so have swallow’d and
    The fraughting souls within her.
    Be collected:
    No more amazement: tell your piteous heart
    There’s no harm done.
    O, woe the day!
    No harm.
    I have done nothing but in care of thee,
    Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who
    Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing 90
    Of whence I am, nor that I am more better
    Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
    And thy no greater father.
    More to know
    Did never meddle with my thoughts.
    All the World’s a Stage
    ‘Tis time
    I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,
    And pluck my magic garment from me. So:
    Lays down his mantle
    Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. 100
    The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch’d
    The very virtue of compassion in thee,
    I have with such provision in mine art
    So safely ordered that there is no soul—
    No, not so much perdition as an hair
    Betid to any creature in the vessel
    Which thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st sink. Sit down;
    For thou must now know farther.
    You have often
    Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp’d 110
    And left me to a bootless inquisition,
    Concluding ‘Stay: not yet.’
    The hour’s now come;
    The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
    Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember
    A time before we came unto this cell?
    I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not
    Out three years old.
    Certainly, sir, I can.
    By what? by any other house or person? 120
    Of any thing the image tell me that
    Hath kept with thy remembrance.
    ‘Tis far off
    And rather like a dream than an assurance
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
    Four or five women once that tended me?
    Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it
    That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else
    In the dark backward and abysm of time?
    If thou remember’st aught ere thou camest here, 130
    How thou camest here thou mayst.
    But that I do not.
    Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
    Thy father was the Duke of Milan and
    A prince of power.
    Sir, are not you my father?
    Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
    She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father
    Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir
    And princess no worse issued. 140
    O the heavens!
    What foul play had we, that we came from thence?
    Or blessed was’t we did?
    Both, both, my girl:
    By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heaved thence,
    But blessedly holp hither.
    O, my heart bleeds
    To think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to,
    Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.
    All the World’s a Stage
    My brother and thy uncle, call’d Antonio— 150
    I pray thee, mark me—that a brother should
    Be so perfidious!—he whom next thyself
    Of all the world I loved and to him put
    The manage of my state; as at that time
    Through all the signories it was the first
    And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed
    In dignity, and for the liberal arts
    Without a parallel; those being all my study,
    The government I cast upon my brother
    And to my state grew stranger, being transported 160
    And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle—
    Dost thou attend me?
    Sir, most heedfully.
    Being once perfected how to grant suits,
    How to deny them, who to advance and who
    To trash for over-topping, new created
    The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed ‘em,
    Or else new form’d ‘em; having both the key
    Of officer and office, set all hearts i’ the state
    To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was 170
    The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,
    And suck’d my verdure out on’t. Thou attend’st not.
    O, good sir, I do.
    I pray thee, mark me.
    I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
    To closeness and the bettering of my mind
    With that which, but by being so retired,
    O’er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother
    Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,
    Like a good parent, did beget of him 180
    A falsehood in its contrary as great
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,
    A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,
    Not only with what my revenue yielded,
    But what my power might else exact, like one
    Who having into truth, by telling of it,
    Made such a sinner of his memory,
    To credit his own lie, he did believe
    He was indeed the duke; out o’ the substitution
    And executing the outward face of royalty, 190
    With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing—
    Dost thou hear?
    Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
    To have no screen between this part he play’d
    And him he play’d it for, he needs will be
    Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library
    Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties
    He thinks me now incapable; confederates—
    So dry he was for sway—wi’ the King of Naples
    To give him annual tribute, do him homage, 200
    Subject his coronet to his crown and bend
    The dukedom yet unbow’d—alas, poor Milan!—
    To most ignoble stooping.
    O the heavens!
    Mark his condition and the event; then tell me
    If this might be a brother.
    I should sin
    To think but nobly of my grandmother:
    Good wombs have borne bad sons.
    Now the condition. 210
    All the World’s a Stage
    The King of Naples, being an enemy
    To me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit;
    Which was, that he, in lieu o’ the premises
    Of homage and I know not how much tribute,
    Should presently extirpate me and mine
    Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan
    With all the honours on my brother: whereon,
    A treacherous army levied, one midnight
    Fated to the purpose did Antonio open
    The gates of Milan, and, i’ the dead of darkness, 220
    The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
    Me and thy crying self.
    Alack, for pity!
    I, not remembering how I cried out then,
    Will cry it o’er again: it is a hint
    That wrings mine eyes to’t.
    Hear a little further
    And then I’ll bring thee to the present business
    Which now’s upon’s; without the which this story
    Were most impertinent. 230
    Wherefore did they not
    That hour destroy us?
    Well demanded, wench:
    My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,
    So dear the love my people bore me, nor set
    A mark so bloody on the business, but
    With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
    In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,
    Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared
    A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg’d, 240
    Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
    Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,
    To cry to the sea that roar’d to us, to sigh
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    To the winds whose pity, sighing back again,
    Did us but loving wrong.
    Alack, what trouble
    Was I then to you!
    O, a cherubim
    Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile.
    Infused with a fortitude from heaven, 250
    When I have deck’d the sea with drops full salt,
    Under my burthen groan’d; which raised in me
    An undergoing stomach, to bear up
    Against what should ensue.
    How came we ashore?
    By Providence divine.
    Some food we had and some fresh water that
    A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
    Out of his charity, being then appointed
    Master of this design, did give us, with 260
    Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,
    Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,
    Knowing I loved my books, he furnish’d me
    From mine own library with volumes that
    I prize above my dukedom.
    Would I might
    But ever see that man!
    Now I arise:
    Resumes his mantle
    Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 270
    Here in this island we arrived; and here
    All the World’s a Stage
    Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
    Than other princesses can that have more time
    For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.
    Heavens thank you for’t! And now, I pray you, sir,
    For still ‘tis beating in my mind, your reason
    For raising this sea-storm?
    Know thus far forth.
    By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,
    Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies 280
    Brought to this shore; and by my prescience
    I find my zenith doth depend upon
    A most auspicious star, whose influence
    If now I court not but omit, my fortunes
    Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions:
    Thou art inclined to sleep; ‘tis a good dulness,
    And give it way: I know thou canst not choose.
    MIRANDA sleeps
    Come away, servant, come. I am ready now.
    Approach, my Ariel, come.
    Enter ARIEL
    All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come 290
    To answer thy best pleasure; be’t to fly,
    To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
    On the curl’d clouds, to thy strong bidding task
    Ariel and all his quality.
    Hast thou, spirit,
    Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee?
    To every article.
    I boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak,
    Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    I flamed amazement: sometime I’ld divide, 300
    And burn in many places; on the topmast,
    The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
    Then meet and join. Jove’s lightnings, the precursors
    O’ the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
    And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks
    Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
    Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,
    Yea, his dread trident shake.
    My brave spirit!
    Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil 310
    Would not infect his reason?
    Not a soul
    But felt a fever of the mad and play’d
    Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners
    Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,
    Then all afire with me: the king’s son, Ferdinand,
    With hair up-staring,—then like reeds, not hair,—
    Was the first man that leap’d; cried, ‘Hell is empty
    And all the devils are here.’
    Why that’s my spirit! 320
    But was not this nigh shore?
    Close by, my master.
    But are they, Ariel, safe?
    Not a hair perish’d;
    On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
    But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,
    In troops I have dispersed them ‘bout the isle.
    The king’s son have I landed by himself;
    Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs
    All the World’s a Stage
    In an odd angle of the isle and sitting, 330
    His arms in this sad knot.
    Of the king’s ship
    The mariners say how thou hast disposed
    And all the rest o’ the fleet.
    Safely in harbour
    Is the king’s ship; in the deep nook, where once
    Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
    From the still-vex’d Bermoothes, there she’s hid:
    The mariners all under hatches stow’d;
    Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour, 340
    I have left asleep; and for the rest o’ the fleet
    Which I dispersed, they all have met again
    And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
    Bound sadly home for Naples,
    Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d
    And his great person perish.
    Ariel, thy charge
    Exactly is perform’d: but there’s more work.
    What is the time o’ the day?
    Past the mid season. 350
    At least two glasses. The time ‘twixt six and now
    Must by us both be spent most preciously.
    Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,
    Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,
    Which is not yet perform’d me.
    How now? moody?
    What is’t thou canst demand?
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    My liberty.
    Before the time be out? no more!
    I prithee, 360
    Remember I have done thee worthy service;
    Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served
    Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise
    To bate me a full year.
    Dost thou forget
    From what a torment I did free thee?
    Thou dost, and think’st it much to tread the ooze
    Of the salt deep,
    To run upon the sharp wind of the north, 370
    To do me business in the veins o’ the earth
    When it is baked with frost.
    I do not, sir.
    Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot
    The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy
    Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?
    No, sir.
    Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.
    Sir, in Argier.
    All the World’s a Stage
    O, was she so? I must 380
    Once in a month recount what thou hast been,
    Which thou forget’st. This damn’d witch Sycorax,
    For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible
    To enter human hearing, from Argier,
    Thou know’st, was banish’d: for one thing she did
    They would not take her life. Is not this true?
    Ay, sir.
    This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child
    And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,
    As thou report’st thyself, wast then her servant; 390
    And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
    To act her earthy and abhorr’d commands,
    Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
    By help of her more potent ministers
    And in her most unmitigable rage,
    Into a cloven pine; within which rift
    Imprison’d thou didst painfully remain
    A dozen years; within which space she died
    And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans
    As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island— 400
    Save for the son that she did litter here,
    A freckled whelp hag-born—not honour’d with
    A human shape.
    Yes, Caliban her son.
    Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban
    Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know’st
    What torment I did find thee in; thy groans
    Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts
    Of ever angry bears: it was a torment
    To lay upon the damn’d, which Sycorax 410
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Could not again undo: it was mine art,
    When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape
    The pine and let thee out.
    I thank thee, master.
    If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oak
    And peg thee in his knotty entrails till
    Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters.
    Pardon, master; I will be correspondent to command
    And do my spiriting gently.
    Do so, and after two days 420
    I will discharge thee.
    That’s my noble master!
    What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?
    Go make thyself like a nymph o’ the sea: be subject
    To no sight but thine and mine, invisible
    To every eyeball else. Go take this shape
    And hither come in’t: go, hence with diligence!
    Exit ARIEL
    Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!
    The strangeness of your story put
    Heaviness in me. 430
    Shake it off. Come on;
    We’ll visit Caliban my slave, who never
    Yields us kind answer.
    All the World’s a Stage
    ‘Tis a villain, sir,
    I do not love to look on.
    But, as ‘tis,
    We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
    Fetch in our wood and serves in offices
    That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!
    Thou earth, thou! speak. 440
    [Within] There’s wood enough within.
    Come forth, I say! there’s other business for thee:
    Come, thou tortoise! when?
    Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph
    Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
    Hark in thine ear.
    My lord it shall be done.
    Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself
    Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!
    Enter CALIBAN
    As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’d
    With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen 450
    Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye
    And blister you all o’er!
    For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
    Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
    Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
    All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch’d
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging
    Than bees that made ‘em.
    I must eat my dinner.
    This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother, 460
    Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,
    Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me
    Water with berries in’t, and teach me how
    To name the bigger light, and how the less,
    That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee
    And show’d thee all the qualities o’ the isle,
    The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile:
    Cursed be I that did so! All the charms
    Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
    For I am all the subjects that you have, 470
    Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me
    In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
    The rest o’ the island.
    Thou most lying slave,
    Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,
    Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee
    In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
    The honour of my child.
    O ho, O ho! would’t had been done!
    Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else 480
    This isle with Calibans.
    Abhorred slave,
    Which any print of goodness wilt not take,
    Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
    Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
    One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,
    Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
    A thing most brutish, I endow’d thy purposes
    With words that made them known. But thy vile race,
    All the World’s a Stage
    Though thou didst learn, had that in’t which 490
    good natures
    Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
    Deservedly confined into this rock,
    Who hadst deserved more than a prison.
    You taught me language; and my profit on’t
    Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you
    For learning me your language!
    Hag-seed, hence!
    Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou’rt best,
    To answer other business. Shrug’st thou, malice? 500
    If thou neglect’st or dost unwillingly
    What I command, I’ll rack thee with old cramps,
    Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar
    That beasts shall tremble at thy din.
    No, pray thee.
    [Aside] I must obey: his art is of such power,
    It would control my dam’s god, Setebos,
    and make a vassal of him.
    So, slave; hence! 510
    Exit CALIBAN
    Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing;
    FERDINAND following
    ARIEL’S song.
    Come unto these yellow sands,
    And then take hands:
    Courtsied when you have and kiss’d
    The wild waves whist,
    Foot it featly here and there;
    And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
    Hark, hark!
    Burthen dispersedly, within
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    The watch-dogs bark!
    Burthen Bow-wow 520
    Hark, hark! I hear
    The strain of strutting chanticleer
    Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.
    Where should this music be? i’ the air or the earth?
    It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon
    Some god o’ the island. Sitting on a bank,
    Weeping again the king my father’s wreck,
    This music crept by me upon the waters,
    Allaying both their fury and my passion
    With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it, 530
    Or it hath drawn me rather. But ‘tis gone.
    No, it begins again.
    ARIEL sings
    Full fathom five thy father lies;
    Of his bones are coral made;
    Those are pearls that were his eyes:
    Nothing of him that doth fade
    But doth suffer a sea-change
    Into something rich and strange.
    Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell 540
    Burthen Ding-dong
    Hark! now I hear them,—Ding-dong, bell.
    The ditty does remember my drown’d father.
    This is no mortal business, nor no sound
    That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.
    The fringed curtains of thine eye advance
    And say what thou seest yond.
    What is’t? a spirit?
    Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
    It carries a brave form. But ‘tis a spirit. 550
    All the World’s a Stage
    No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses
    As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest
    Was in the wreck; and, but he’s something stain’d
    With grief that’s beauty’s canker, thou mightst call him
    A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows
    And strays about to find ‘em.
    I might call him
    A thing divine, for nothing natural
    I ever saw so noble.
    [Aside] It goes on, I see, 560
    As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I’ll free thee
    Within two days for this.
    Most sure, the goddess
    On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer
    May know if you remain upon this island;
    And that you will some good instruction give
    How I may bear me here: my prime request,
    Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
    If you be maid or no?
    No wonder, sir; 570
    But certainly a maid.
    My language! heavens!
    I am the best of them that speak this speech,
    Were I but where ‘tis spoken.
    How? the best?
    What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
    To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;
    And that he does I weep: myself am Naples,
    Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld 580
    The king my father wreck’d.
    Alack, for mercy!
    Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan
    And his brave son being twain.
    [Aside] The Duke of Milan
    And his more braver daughter could control thee,
    If now ‘twere fit to do’t. At the first sight
    They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,
    I’ll set thee free for this.
    A word, good sir; 590
    I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
    Why speaks my father so ungently? This
    Is the third man that e’er I saw, the first That e’er I
    sigh’d for: pity move my father
    To be inclined my way!
    O, if a virgin,
    And your affection not gone forth, I’ll make you
    The queen of Naples.
    Soft, sir! one word more.
    They are both in either’s powers; but this swift business 600
    I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
    Make the prize light.
    All the World’s a Stage
    One word more; I charge thee
    That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
    The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself
    Upon this island as a spy, to win it
    From me, the lord on’t.
    No, as I am a man.
    There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:
    If the ill spirit have so fair a house, 610
    Good things will strive to dwell with’t.
    Follow me.
    Speak not you for him; he’s a traitor. Come;
    I’ll manacle thy neck and feet together:
    Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
    The fresh-brook muscles, wither’d roots and husks
    Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.
    I will resist such entertainment till
    Mine enemy has more power. 620
    Draws, and is charmed from moving
    O dear father,
    Make not too rash a trial of him, for
    He’s gentle and not fearful.
    What? I say,
    My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
    Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience
    Is so possess’d with guilt: come from thy ward,
    For I can here disarm thee with this stick
    And make thy weapon drop. 630
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Beseech you, father.
    Hence! hang not on my garments.
    Sir, have pity;
    I’ll be his surety.
    Silence! one word more
    Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
    An advocate for an imposter! hush!
    Thou think’st there is no more such shapes as he,
    Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
    To the most of men this is a Caliban 640
    And they to him are angels.
    My affections
    Are then most humble; I have no ambition
    To see a goodlier man.
    Come on; obey:
    Thy nerves are in their infancy again
    And have no vigour in them.
    So they are;
    My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
    My father’s loss, the weakness which I feel, 650
    The wreck of all my friends, nor this man’s threats,
    To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
    Might I but through my prison once a day
    Behold this maid: all corners else o’ the earth
    Let liberty make use of; space enough
    Have I in such a prison.
    [Aside] It works.
    All the World’s a Stage
    Come on.
    Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!
    Follow me. 660
    To ARIEL
    Hark what thou else shalt do me.
    Be of comfort;
    My father’s of a better nature, sir,
    Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
    Which now came from him.
    Thou shalt be free
    As mountain winds: but then exactly do
    All points of my command.
    To the syllable.
    Come, follow. Speak not for him. 670
    ACT II
    SCENE I. Another part of the island.
    ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others
    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
    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
    Our sorrow with our comfort.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Prithee, peace. 680
    He receives comfort like cold porridge.
    The visitor will not give him o’er so.
    Look he’s winding up the watch of his wit;
    by and by it will strike.
    One: tell.
    When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d,
    Comes to the entertainer—
    A dollar.
    Dolour comes to him, indeed: you 690
    have spoken truer than you purposed.
    You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.
    Therefore, my lord,—
    Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
    All the World’s a Stage
    I prithee, spare.
    Well, I have done: but yet,—
    He will be talking.
    Which, of he or Adrian, for a good
    wager, first begins to crow?
    The old cock. 700
    The cockerel.
    Done. The wager?
    A laughter.
    A match!
    Though this island seem to be desert,—
    Ha, ha, ha! So, you’re paid.
    Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,—
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    He could not miss’t. 710
    It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate temperance.
    Temperance was a delicate wench.
    Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.
    The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
    As if it had lungs and rotten ones.
    Or as ‘twere perfumed by a fen.
    Here is everything advantageous to life.
    True; save means to live.
    Of that there’s none, or little.
    How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! 720
    The ground indeed is tawny.
    All the World’s a Stage
    With an eye of green in’t.
    He misses not much.
    No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.
    But the rarity of it is,—which is indeed almost beyond
    As many vouched rarities are.
    That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in
    the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and
    glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with 730
    salt water.
    If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not
    say he lies?
    Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report
    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.
    ‘Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.
    Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to
    their queen. 740
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Not since widow Dido’s time.
    Widow! a pox o’ that! How came that widow in? Widow
    What if he had said ‘widower Aeneas’ too? Good Lord,
    how you take it!
    ‘Widow Dido’ said you? you make me study of that:
    she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.
    This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.
    I assure you, Carthage. 750
    His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath
    raised the wall and houses too.
    What impossible matter will he make easy next?
    I think he will carry this island home in his pocket
    and give it his son for an apple.
    And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring
    forth more islands.
    All the World’s a Stage
    Why, in good time.
    Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now 760
    as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage
    of your daughter, who is now queen.
    And the rarest that e’er came there.
    Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
    O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.
    Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I
    wore it? I mean, in a sort.
    That sort was well fished for.
    When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage?
    You cram these words into mine ears against 770
    The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
    Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
    My son is lost and, in my rate, she too,
    Who is so far from Italy removed
    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?
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Sir, he may live:
    I saw him beat the surges under him,
    And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, 780
    Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
    The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head
    ‘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.
    No, no, he’s gone.
    Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,
    That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, 790
    But rather lose her to an African;
    Where she at least is banish’d from your eye,
    Who hath cause to wet the grief on’t.
    Prithee, peace.
    You were kneel’d to and importuned otherwise
    By all of us, and the fair soul herself
    Weigh’d between loathness and obedience, at
    Which end o’ the beam should bow. We have lost your
    I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have 800
    More widows in them of this business’ making
    Than we bring men to comfort them:
    The fault’s your own.
    So is the dear’st o’ the loss.
    My lord Sebastian,
    The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness
    All the World’s a Stage
    And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,
    When you should bring the plaster.
    Very well.
    And most chirurgeonly. 810
    It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
    When you are cloudy.
    Foul weather?
    Very foul.
    Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,—
    He’ld sow’t with nettle-seed.
    Or docks, or mallows.
    And were the king on’t, what would I do?
    ‘Scape being drunk for want of wine.
    I’ the commonwealth I would by contraries 820
    Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
    Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
    Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
    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;
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    And women too, but innocent and pure;
    No sovereignty;—
    Yet he would be king on’t. 830
    The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.
    All things in common nature should produce
    Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,
    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.
    No marrying ‘mong his subjects?
    None, man; all idle: whores and knaves.
    I would with such perfection govern, sir, 840
    To excel the golden age.
    God save his majesty!
    Long live Gonzalo!
    And,—do you mark me, sir?
    Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.
    I do well believe your highness; and
    did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen,
    All the World’s a Stage
    who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that
    they always use to laugh at nothing.
    ‘Twas you we laughed at. 850
    Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing
    to you: so you may continue and laugh at
    nothing still.
    What a blow was there given!
    An it had not fallen flat-long.
    You are gentlemen of brave metal; 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
    We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.
    Nay, good my lord, be not angry. 860
    No, I warrant you; I will not adventure
    my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh
    me asleep, for I am very heavy?
    Go sleep, and hear us.
    All sleep except ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO
    What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
    Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find
    They are inclined to do so.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Please you, sir,
    Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
    It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, 870
    It is a comforter.
    We two, my lord,
    Will guard your person while you take your rest,
    And watch your safety.
    Thank you. Wondrous heavy.
    ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL
    What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
    It is the quality o’ the climate.
    Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
    Myself disposed to sleep. 880
    Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
    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 me thinks I see it in thy face,
    What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and
    My strong imagination sees a crown
    Dropping upon thy head.
    What, art thou waking?
    Do you not hear me speak? 890
    All the World’s a Stage
    I do; and surely
    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.
    Noble Sebastian,
    Thou let’st thy fortune sleep—die, rather; wink’st
    Whiles thou art waking.
    Thou dost snore distinctly; 900
    There’s meaning in thy snores.
    I am more serious than my custom: you
    Must be so too, if heed me; which to do
    Trebles thee o’er.
    Well, I am standing water.
    I’ll teach you how to flow.
    Do so: to ebb
    Hereditary sloth instructs me.
    If you but knew how you the purpose cherish 910
    Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
    You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
    Most often do so near the bottom run
    By their own fear or sloth.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Prithee, say on:
    The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim
    A matter from thee, and a birth indeed
    Which throes thee much to yield.
    Thus, sir:
    Although this lord of weak remembrance, this, 920
    Who shall be of as little memory
    When he is earth’d, hath here almost persuade,—
    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
    And he that sleeps here swims.
    I have no hope
    That he’s undrown’d.
    O, out of that ‘no hope’
    What great hope have you! no hope that way is 930
    Another way so high a hope that even
    Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
    But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me
    That Ferdinand is drown’d?
    He’s gone.
    Then, tell me,
    Who’s the next heir of Naples?
    She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells
    Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples 940
    Can have no note, unless the sun were post—
    All the World’s a Stage
    The man i’ the 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
    In yours and my discharge.
    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 950
    There is some space.
    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 seized them; why, they were no worse
    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 960
    A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
    The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
    For your advancement! Do you understand me?
    Methinks I do.
    And how does your content
    Tender your own good fortune?
    I remember
    You did supplant your brother Prospero.
    And look how well my garments sit upon me; 970
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Much feater than before: my brother’s servants
    Were then my fellows; now they are my men.
    But, for your conscience?
    Ay, sir; where lies that? if ‘twere a kibe,
    ‘Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not
    This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
    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; 980
    Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,
    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;
    They’ll tell the clock to any business that
    We say befits the hour.
    Thy case, dear friend,
    Shall be my precedent; as thou got’st Milan, 990
    I’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
    Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;
    And I the king shall love thee.
    Draw together;
    And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
    To fall it on Gonzalo.
    O, but one word.
    They talk apart
    Re-enter ARIEL, invisible
    My master through his art foresees the danger
    All the World’s a Stage
    That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth— 1000
    For else his project dies—to keep them living.
    Sings in GONZALO’s ear
    While you here do snoring lie,
    Open-eyed conspiracy
    His time doth take.
    If of life you keep a care,
    Shake off slumber, and beware:
    Awake, awake!
    Then let us both be sudden.
    Now, good angels
    Preserve the king. 1010
    They wake
    Why, how now? ho, awake! Why are you drawn?
    Wherefore this ghastly looking?
    What’s the matter?
    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.
    I heard nothing.
    O, ‘twas a din to fright a monster’s ear, 1020
    To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar
    Of a whole herd of lions.
    Heard you this, Gonzalo?
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
    And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
    I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open’d,
    I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise,
    That’s verily. ‘Tis best we stand upon our guard,
    Or that we quit this place; let’s draw our weapons.
    Lead off this ground; and let’s make further search 1030
    For my poor son.
    Heavens keep him from these beasts!
    For he is, sure, i’ the island.
    Lead away.
    Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:
    So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.
    SCENE II. Another part of the island.
    Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of
    thunder heard
    All the infections that the sun sucks up
    From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him
    By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me
    And yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch, 1040
    Fright me with urchin—shows, pitch me i’ the mire,
    Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
    Out of my way, unless he bid ‘em; but
    For every trifle are they set upon me;
    Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me
    And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which
    Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount
    Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I
    All the World’s a Stage
    All wound with adders who with cloven tongues
    Do hiss me into madness. 1050
    Enter TRINCULO
    Lo, now, lo!
    Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me
    For bringing wood in slowly. I’ll fall flat;
    Perchance he will not mind me.
    Here’s neither bush nor shrub, to bear off
    any weather at all, and another storm brewing;
    I hear it sing i’ the wind: yond same black
    cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul
    bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder
    as it did before, I know not 1060
    where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot
    choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we
    here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish:
    he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fishlike
    smell; a kind of not of the newest Poor-
    John. A strange fish! Were I in England now,
    as once I was, and had but this fish painted,
    not a holiday fool there but would give a piece
    of silver: there would this monster make a man; any
    strange beast there makes a man: 1070
    when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame
    beggar, they will lazy out ten to see a dead
    Indian. Legged like a man and his fins like
    arms! Warm o’ my troth! I do now let loose
    my opinion; hold it no longer: this is no fish,
    but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a
    Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to
    creep under his gaberdine; there is no other
    shelter hereabouts: misery acquaints a man with 1080
    strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the
    dregs of the storm be past.
    Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    I shall no more to sea, to sea,
    Here shall I die ashore—
    This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s
    funeral: well, here’s my comfort.
    The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I,
    The gunner and his mate
    Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery,
    But none of us cared for Kate; 1090
    For she had a tongue with a tang,
    Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!
    She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
    Yet a tailor might scratch her where’er she did itch:
    Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang!
    This is a scurvy tune too: but here’s my comfort.
    Do not torment me: Oh!
    What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put
    tricks upon’s with savages and men of Ind, ha?
    I have not scaped drowning to be afeard now of your 1100
    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’s nostrils.
    The spirit torments me; Oh!
    This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who
    hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil
    should he learn our language? I will give him some
    relief, if it be but for that. if I can recover him
    All the World’s a Stage
    and keep him tame and get to Naples with him, he’s a 1110
    present for any emperor that ever trod on neat’s leather.
    Do not torment me, prithee; I’ll bring my wood home
    He’s in his fit now and does not talk after the
    wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have
    never drunk wine afore will go near to remove his
    fit. If I can recover him and keep him tame, I will
    not take too much for him; he shall pay for him that
    hath him, and that soundly.
    Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, 1120
    I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.
    Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that
    which will give language to you, cat: open your
    mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you,
    and that soundly: you cannot tell who’s your friend:
    open your chaps again.
    I should know that voice: it should be—but he is
    drowned; and these are devils: O defend me!
    Four legs and two voices: a most delicate monster!
    His forward voice now is to speak well of his
    friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches 1130
    and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will
    recover him, I will help his ague. Come. Amen! I
    will pour some in thy other mouth.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is
    a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no
    long spoon.
    Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me and
    speak to me: for I am Trinculo—be not afeard—thy
    good friend Trinculo. 1140
    If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I’ll pull thee
    by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo’s legs,
    these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How
    camest thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? can
    he vent Trinculos?
    I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke. But
    art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now thou art
    not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid me
    under the dead moon-calf’s gaberdine for fear of
    the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O 1150
    Stephano, two Neapolitans ‘scaped!
    Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.
    [Aside] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites.
    That’s a brave god and bears celestial liquor.
    I will kneel to him.
    How didst thou ‘scape? How camest thou hither?
    swear by this bottle how thou camest hither. I
    escaped upon a butt of sack which the sailors
    heaved o’erboard, by this bottle; which I made of
    the bark of a tree with mine own hands since I was 1160
    cast ashore.
    All the World’s a Stage
    I’ll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject;
    for the liquor is not earthly.
    Here; swear then how thou escapedst.
    Swum ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim like a
    duck, I’ll be sworn.
    Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a
    duck, thou art made like a goose.
    O Stephano, hast any more of this?
    The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the 1170
    sea-side where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf!
    how does thine ague?
    Hast thou not dropp’d from heaven?
    Out o’ the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i’
    the moon when time was.
    I have seen thee in her and I do adore thee:
    My mistress show’d me thee and thy dog and thy bush.
    Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish
    it anon with new contents swear.
    By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! 1180
    I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The man i’
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well
    drawn, monster, in good sooth!
    I’ll show thee every fertile inch o’ th’ island;
    And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god.
    By this light, a most perfidious and drunken
    monster! when ‘s god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle.
    I’ll kiss thy foot; I’ll swear myself thy subject.
    Come on then; down, and swear.
    I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed 1190
    monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my
    heart to beat him,—
    Come, kiss.
    But that the poor monster’s in drink: an abominable monster!
    I’ll show thee the best springs; I’ll pluck thee berries;
    I’ll fish for thee and get thee wood enough.
    A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
    I’ll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
    Thou wondrous man.
    A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a 1200
    Poor drunkard!
    I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;
    And I with my long nails will dig thee pignuts;
    All the World’s a Stage
    Show thee a jay’s nest and instruct thee how
    To snare the nimble marmoset; I’ll bring thee
    To clustering filberts and sometimes I’ll get thee
    Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?
    I prithee now, lead the way without any more
    talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company
    else being drowned, we will inherit here: here; 1210
    bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we’ll fill him by and by again.
    Sings drunkenly
    Farewell master; farewell, farewell!
    A howling monster: a drunken monster!
    No more dams I’ll make for fish
    Nor fetch in firing
    At requiring;
    Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish
    ‘Ban, ‘Ban, Cacaliban
    Has a new master: get a new man. 1220
    Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom,
    hey-day, freedom!
    O brave monster! Lead the way.
    SCENE I. Before PROSPERO’S Cell.
    Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log
    There be some sports are painful, and their labour
    Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
    Are nobly undergone and most poor matters
    Point to rich ends. This my mean task
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Would be as heavy to me as odious, but
    The mistress which I serve quickens what’s dead
    And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is 1230
    Ten times more gentle than her father’s crabbed,
    And he’s composed of harshness. I must remove
    Some thousands of these logs and pile them up,
    Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress
    Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness
    Had never like executor. I forget:
    But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,
    Most busy lest, when I do it.
    Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen
    Alas, now, pray you,
    Work not so hard: I would the lightning had 1240
    Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin’d to pile!
    Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns,
    ‘Twill weep for having wearied you. My father
    Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;
    He’s safe for these three hours.
    O most dear mistress,
    The sun will set before I shall discharge
    What I must strive to do.
    If you’ll sit down,
    I’ll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that; 1250
    I’ll carry it to the pile.
    No, precious creature;
    I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
    Than you should such dishonour undergo,
    While I sit lazy by.
    It would become me
    As well as it does you: and I should do it
    All the World’s a Stage
    With much more ease; for my good will is to it,
    And yours it is against.
    Poor worm, thou art infected! 1260
    This visitation shows it.
    You look wearily.
    No, noble mistress;’tis fresh morning with me
    When you are by at night. I do beseech you—
    Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers—
    What is your name?
    Miranda.—O my father,
    I have broke your hest to say so!
    Admired Miranda!
    Indeed the top of admiration! worth 1270
    What’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady
    I have eyed with best regard and many a time
    The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
    Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues
    Have I liked several women; never any
    With so fun soul, but some defect in her
    Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed
    And put it to the foil: but you, O you,
    So perfect and so peerless, are created
    Of every creature’s best! 1280
    I do not know
    One of my sex; no woman’s face remember,
    Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen
    More that I may call men than you, good friend,
    And my dear father: how features are abroad,
    I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    The jewel in my dower, 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 1290
    Something too wildly and my father’s precepts
    I therein do forget.
    I am in my condition
    A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;
    I would, not so!—and would no more endure
    This wooden slavery than to suffer
    The flesh-fly blow my mouth. 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 1300
    Am I this patient log—man.
    Do you love me?
    O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound
    And crown what I profess with kind event
    If I speak true! if hollowly, invert
    What best is boded me to mischief! I
    Beyond all limit of what else i’ the world
    Do love, prize, honour you.
    I am a fool
    To weep at what I am glad of. 1310
    Fair encounter
    Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace
    On that which breeds between ‘em!
    Wherefore weep you?
    All the World’s a Stage
    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. Hence, bashful cunning!
    And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! 1320
    I am your wife, if you will marry me;
    If not, I’ll die your maid: to be your fellow
    You may deny me; but I’ll be your servant,
    Whether you will or no.
    My mistress, dearest;
    And I thus humble ever.
    My husband, then?
    Ay, with a heart as willing
    As bondage e’er of freedom: here’s my hand.
    And mine, with my heart in’t; and now farewell 1330
    Till half an hour hence.
    A thousand thousand!
    Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA severally
    So glad of this as they I cannot be,
    Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing
    At nothing can be more. I’ll to my book,
    For yet ere supper-time must I perform
    Much business appertaining.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    SCENE II. Another part of the island.
    Tell not me; when the butt is out, we will drink
    water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and
    board ‘em. Servant-monster, drink to me. 1340
    Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They
    say there’s but five upon this isle: we are three
    of them; if th’ other two be brained like us, the
    state totters.
    Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes
    are almost set in thy head.
    Where should they be set else? he were a brave
    monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.
    My man-monster hath drown’d his tongue in sack:
    for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere 1350
    I could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues off
    and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant,
    monster, or my standard.
    Your lieutenant, if you list; he’s no standard.
    We’ll not run, Monsieur Monster.
    Nor go neither; but you’ll lie like dogs and yet say
    nothing neither.
    Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a
    good moon-calf.
    All the World’s a Stage
    How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe. 1360
    I’ll not serve him; he’s not valiant.
    Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to
    justle a constable. Why, thou deboshed fish thou,
    was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much
    sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie,
    being but half a fish and half a monster?
    Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?
    ‘Lord’ quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural!
    Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee.
    Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if you 1370
    prove a mutineer,—the next tree! The poor monster’s
    my subject and he shall not suffer indignity.
    I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to
    hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?
    Marry, will I kneel and repeat it; I will stand,
    and so shall Trinculo.
    Enter ARIEL, invisible
    As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a sorcerer,
    that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island.
    Thou liest.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou: I would my 1380
    valiant master would destroy thee! I do not lie.
    Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in’s tale, by
    this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.
    Why, I said nothing.
    Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.
    I say, by sorcery he got this isle;
    From me he got it. if thy greatness will
    Revenge it on him,—for I know thou darest,
    But this thing dare not,—
    That’s most certain. 1390
    Thou shalt be lord of it and I’ll serve thee.
    How now shall this be compassed?
    Canst thou bring me to the party?
    Yea, yea, my lord: I’ll yield him thee asleep,
    Where thou mayst knock a nail into his bead.
    Thou liest; thou canst not.
    What a pied ninny’s this! Thou scurvy patch!
    I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows
    All the World’s a Stage
    And take his bottle from him: when that’s gone
    He shall drink nought but brine; for I’ll not show him 1400
    Where the quick freshes are.
    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.
    Why, what did I? I did nothing. I’ll go farther off.
    Didst thou not say he lied?
    Thou liest.
    Do I so? take thou that.
    Beats TRINCULO
    As you like this, give me the lie another time. 1410
    I did not give the lie. Out o’ your
    wits and bearing too? A pox o’ your bottle!
    this can sack and drinking do. A murrain on
    your monster, and the devil take your fingers!
    Ha, ha, ha!
    Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, stand farther off.
    Beat him enough: after a little time
    I’ll beat him too.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Stand farther. Come, proceed.
    Why, as I told thee, ‘tis a custom with him, 1420
    I’ th’ afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him,
    Having first seized his books, or with a log
    Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
    Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember
    First to possess his books; for without them
    He’s but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
    One spirit to command: they all do hate him
    As rootedly as I. Burn but his books.
    He has brave utensils,—for so he calls them—
    Which when he has a house, he’ll deck withal 1430
    And that most deeply to consider is
    The beauty of his daughter; he himself
    Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman,
    But only Sycorax my dam and she;
    But she as far surpasseth Sycorax
    As great’st does least.
    Is it so brave a lass?
    Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant.
    And bring thee forth brave brood.
    Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I 1440
    will be king and queen—save our graces!—and
    Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou
    like the plot, Trinculo?
    Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but,
    while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head.
    All the World’s a Stage
    Within this half hour will he be asleep:
    Wilt thou destroy him then?
    Ay, on mine honour.
    This will I tell my master. 1450
    Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure:
    Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch
    You taught me but while-ere?
    At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any
    reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.
    Flout ‘em and scout ‘em
    And scout ‘em and flout ‘em
    Thought is free.
    That’s not the tune.
    ARIEL plays the tune on a tabour and pipe 1460
    What is this same?
    This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture
    of Nobody.
    If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness:
    if thou beest a devil, take’t as thou list.
    O, forgive me my sins!
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy upon us!
    Art thou afeard?
    No, monster, not I.
    Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, 1470
    Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
    Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
    Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
    That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
    Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
    The clouds methought would open and show riches
    Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
    I cried to dream again.
    This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall
    have my music for nothing. 1480
    When Prospero is destroyed.
    That shall be by and by: I remember the story.
    The sound is going away; let’s follow it, and
    after do our work.
    Lead, monster; we’ll follow. I would I could see
    this tabourer; he lays it on.
    Wilt come? I’ll follow, Stephano.
    All the World’s a Stage
    SCENE III. Another part of the island.
    ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others
    By’r lakin, I can go no further, sir;
    My old bones ache: here’s a maze trod indeed
    Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience, 1490
    I needs must rest me.
    Old lord, I cannot blame thee,
    Who am myself attach’d with weariness,
    To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest.
    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.
    [Aside to SEBASTIAN]
    I am right glad that he’s so out of hope.
    Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose 1500
    That you resolved to effect.
    [Aside to ANTONIO] The next advantage
    Will we take throughly.
    [Aside to SEBASTIAN] Let it be to-night;
    For, now they are oppress’d with travel, they
    Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance
    As when they are fresh.
    [Aside to ANTONIO] I say, to-night: no more.
    Solemn and strange music
    What harmony is this? My good friends, hark! 1510
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Marvellous sweet music!
    Enter PROSPERO above, invisible. Enter several
    strange Shapes, bringing in a banquet; they dance about
    it with gentle actions of salutation; and, inviting the
    King, &c. to eat, they depart
    Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?
    A living drollery. Now I will believe
    That there are unicorns, that in Arabia
    There is one tree, the phoenix’ throne, one phoenix
    At this hour reigning there.
    I’ll believe both;
    And what does else want credit, come to me,
    And I’ll be sworn ‘tis true: travellers ne’er did lie,
    Though fools at home condemn ‘em. 1520
    If in Naples
    I should report this now, would they believe me?
    If I should say, I saw such islanders—
    For, certes, these are people of the island—
    Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note,
    Their manners are more gentle-kind than of
    Our human generation you shall find
    Many, nay, almost any.
    [Aside] Honest lord,
    Thou hast said well; for some of you there present 1530
    Are worse than devils.
    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.
    All the World’s a Stage
    [Aside] Praise in departing.
    They vanish’d strangely.
    No matter, since
    They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.
    Will’t please you taste of what is here? 1540
    Not I.
    Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,
    Who would believe that there were mountaineers
    Dew-lapp’d like bulls, whose throats had hanging at ‘em
    Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men
    Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find
    Each putter-out of five for one will bring us
    Good warrant of.
    I will stand to and feed,
    Although my last: no matter, since I feel 1550
    The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke,
    Stand to and do as we.
    Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps
    his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the
    banquet vanishes
    You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,
    That hath to instrument this lower world
    And what is in’t, the never-surfeited sea
    Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island
    Where man doth not inhabit; you ‘mongst men
    Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad;
    And even with such-like valour men hang and drown
    Their proper selves. 1560
    ALONSO, SEBASTIAN &c. draw their swords
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    You fools! I and my fellows
    Are ministers of Fate: the elements,
    Of whom your swords are temper’d, may as well
    Wound the loud winds, or with bemock’d-at stabs
    Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish
    One dowle that’s in my plume: my fellow-ministers
    Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,
    Your swords are now too massy for your strengths
    And will not be uplifted. But remember—
    For that’s my business to you—that you three 1570
    From Milan did supplant good Prospero;
    Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it,
    Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed
    The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have
    Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,
    Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,
    They have bereft; and do pronounce by me:
    Lingering perdition, worse than any death
    Can be at once, shall step by step attend
    You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from— 1580
    Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls
    Upon your heads—is nothing but heart-sorrow
    And a clear life ensuing.
    He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music enter the
    Shapes again, and dance, with mocks and mows, and
    carrying out the table
    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. My high charms work
    And these mine enemies are all knit up 1590
    In their distractions; they now are in my power;
    And in these fits I leave them, while I visit
    Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown’d,
    And his and mine loved darling.
    Exit above
    All the World’s a Stage
    I’ the name of something holy, sir, why stand you
    In this strange stare?
    O, it is monstrous, monstrous:
    Methought the billows spoke and told me of it;
    The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder,
    That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced 1600
    The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.
    Therefore my son i’ the ooze is bedded, and
    I’ll seek him deeper than e’er plummet sounded
    And with him there lie mudded.
    But one fiend at a time,
    I’ll fight their legions o’er.
    I’ll be thy second.
    All three of them are desperate: their great guilt,
    Like poison given to work a great time after,
    Now ‘gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you 1610
    That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly
    And hinder them from what this ecstasy
    May now provoke them to.
    Follow, I pray you.
    ACT IV
    SCENE I. Before PROSPERO’S cell.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    If I have too austerely punish’d you,
    Your compensation makes amends, for I
    Have given you here a third of mine own life,
    Or that for which I live; who once again
    I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations
    Were but my trials of thy love and thou 1620
    Hast strangely stood the test here, afore Heaven,
    I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,
    Do not smile at me that I boast her off,
    For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise
    And make it halt behind her.
    I do believe it
    Against an oracle.
    Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition
    Worthily purchased take my daughter: but
    If thou dost break her virgin-knot before 1630
    All sanctimonious ceremonies may
    With full and holy rite be minister’d,
    No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall
    To make this contract grow: but barren hate,
    Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew
    The union of your bed with weeds so loathly
    That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed,
    As Hymen’s lamps shall light you.
    As I hope
    For quiet days, fair issue and long life, 1640
    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 honour 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.
    All the World’s a Stage
    Fairly spoke.
    Sit then and talk with her; she is thine own.
    What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel! 1650
    Enter ARIEL
    What would my potent master? here I am.
    Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service
    Did worthily perform; and I must use you
    In such another trick. Go bring the rabble,
    O’er whom I give thee power, here to this place:
    Incite them to quick motion; for I must
    Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple
    Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise,
    And they expect it from me.
    Presently? 1660
    Ay, with a twink.
    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.
    Do you love me, master? no?
    Dearly my delicate Ariel. Do not approach
    Till thou dost hear me call.
    Well, I conceive.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Look thou be true; do not give dalliance 1670
    Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw
    To the fire i’ the blood: be more abstemious,
    Or else, good night your vow!
    I warrant you sir;
    The white cold virgin snow upon my heart
    Abates the ardour of my liver.
    Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary,
    Rather than want a spirit: appear and pertly!
    No tongue! all eyes! be silent. 1680
    Soft music
    Enter IRIS
    Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
    Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats and pease;
    Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
    And flat meads thatch’d with stover, them to keep;
    Thy banks with pioned and twilled 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, sterile and rocky-hard, 1690
    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: her peacocks fly amain:
    Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.
    Enter CERES
    Hail, many-colour’d messenger, that ne’er
    Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;
    Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers
    All the World’s a Stage
    Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers, 1700
    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?
    A contract of true love to celebrate;
    And some donation freely to estate
    On the blest lovers.
    Tell me, heavenly bow,
    If Venus or her son, as thou dost know,
    Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot 1710
    The means that dusky Dis my daughter got,
    Her and her blind boy’s scandal’d company
    I have forsworn.
    Of her society
    Be not afraid: I met her deity
    Cutting the clouds towards Paphos and her son
    Dove-drawn with her. 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: but vain; 1720
    Mars’s hot minion is returned again;
    Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,
    Swears he will shoot no more but play with sparrows
    And be a boy right out.
    High’st queen of state,
    Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait.
    Enter JUNO
    How does my bounteous sister? Go with me
    To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be
    And honour’d in their issue.
    They sing:
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Honour, riches, marriage-blessing, 1730
    Long continuance, and increasing,
    Hourly joys be still upon you!
    Juno sings her blessings upon you.
    Earth’s increase, foison plenty,
    Barns and garners never empty,
    Vines and clustering 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; 1740
    Ceres’ blessing so is on you.
    This is a most majestic vision, and
    Harmoniously charmingly. May I be bold
    To think these spirits?
    Spirits, which by mine art
    I have from their confines call’d to enact
    My present fancies.
    Let me live here ever;
    So rare a wonder’d father and a wife
    Makes this place Paradise. 1750
    JUNO and CERES whisper, and send IRIS on
    Sweet, now, silence!
    JUNO and CERES whisper seriously;
    There’s something else to do: hush, and be mute,
    Or else our spell is marr’d.
    You nymphs, call’d Naiads, of the windring brooks,
    With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks,
    All the World’s a Stage
    Leave your crisp channels and on this green land
    Answer your summons; Juno does command:
    Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate 1760
    A contract of true love; be not too late.
    Enter certain Nymphs
    You sunburnt 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.
    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
    [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. 1770
    To the Spirits
    Well done! avoid; no more!
    This is strange: your father’s in some passion
    That works him strongly.
    Never till this day
    Saw I him touch’d with anger so distemper’d.
    You do look, my son, in a moved 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: 1780
    And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
    The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
    The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
    Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    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, brain is troubled:
    Be not disturb’d with my infirmity: 1790
    If you be pleased, retire into my cell
    And there repose: a turn or two I’ll walk,
    To still my beating mind.
    We wish your peace.
    Come with a thought I thank thee, Ariel: come.
    Enter ARIEL
    Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?
    We must prepare to meet with Caliban.
    Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres,
    I thought to have told thee of it, but I fear’d
    Lest I might anger thee. 1800
    Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?
    I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;
    So fun 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 tabour;
    At which, like unback’d colts, they prick’d their ears,
    All the World’s a Stage
    Advanced 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 1810
    Tooth’d briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns,
    Which entered their frail shins: at last I left them
    I’ the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,
    There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake
    O’erstunk their feet.
    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. 1820
    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,
    Even to roaring.
    Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c.
    Come, hang them on this line.
    PROSPERO and ARIEL remain invisible.
    Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet
    Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not
    Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell.
    Monster, your fairy, which you say is 1830
    a harmless fairy, has done little better than
    played the Jack with us.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at
    which my nose is in great indignation.
    So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take
    a displeasure against you, look you,—
    Thou wert but a lost monster.
    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. 1840
    All’s hush’d as midnight yet.
    Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,—
    There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that,
    monster, but an infinite loss.
    That’s more to me than my wetting: yet this is your
    harmless fairy, monster.
    I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er ears
    for my labour.
    Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here,
    This is the mouth o’ the cell: no noise, and enter. 1850
    Do that good mischief which may make this island
    Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,
    For aye thy foot-licker.
    Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts.
    All the World’s a Stage
    O king Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look
    what a wardrobe here is for thee!
    Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.
    O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery.
    O king Stephano!
    Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I’ll have 1860
    that gown.
    Thy grace shall have it.
    The dropsy drown this fool I what do you mean
    To dote thus on such luggage? Let’s alone
    And do the murder first: if he awake,
    From toe to crown he’ll fill our skins with pinches,
    Make us strange stuff.
    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 1870
    hair and prove a bald jerkin.
    Do, do: we steal by line and level, an’t like your grace.
    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.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and
    away with the rest.
    I will have none on’t: we shall lose our time,
    And all be turn’d to barnacles, or to apes 1880
    With foreheads villanous low.
    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.
    And this.
    Ay, and this.
    A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape
    of dogs and hounds, and hunt them about, PROSPERO
    and ARIEL setting them on
    Hey, Mountain, hey!
    Silver I there it goes, Silver!
    Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark! hark!
    CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, are driven out
    Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints 1890
    With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews
    With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them
    Than pard or cat o’ mountain.
    Hark, they roar!
    Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour
    All the World’s a Stage
    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.
    ACT V
    SCENE I. Before PROSPERO’S cell.
    Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL
    Now does my project gather to a head: 1900
    My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time
    Goes upright with his carriage. How’s the day?
    On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,
    You said our work should cease.
    I did say so,
    When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,
    How fares the king and’s followers?
    Confined together
    In the same fashion as you gave in charge,
    Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir, 1910
    In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell;
    They cannot budge till your 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 ‘em
    That if you now beheld them, your affections
    Would become tender. 1920
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Dost thou think so, spirit?
    Mine would, sir, were I human.
    And mine shall.
    Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
    Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,
    One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,
    Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art?
    Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,
    Yet with my nobler reason ‘gaitist my fury
    Do I take part: the rarer action is 1930
    In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent,
    The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
    Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel:
    My charms I’ll break, their senses I’ll restore,
    And they shall be themselves.
    I’ll fetch them, sir.
    Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves,
    And ye that on the sands with printless foot
    Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him
    When he comes back; you demi-puppets that 1940
    By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
    Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime
    Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
    To hear the solemn curfew; 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 azured vault
    Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder
    Have I given fire and rifted Jove’s stout oak
    With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory 1950
    All the World’s a Stage
    Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck’d up
    The pine and cedar: graves at my command
    Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let ‘em forth
    By my so potent art. But this rough magic
    I here abjure, and, when I have required
    Some heavenly music, which even now I do,
    To work mine end upon their senses that
    This airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff,
    Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
    And deeper than did ever plummet sound 1960
    I’ll drown my book.
    Solemn music
    Re-enter ARIEL before: then ALONSO, with a frantic
    gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and
    ANTONIO in like manner, attended by ADRIAN and
    FRANCISCO they all enter the circle which PROSPERO
    had made,and there stand charmed; which PROSPERO
    observing, speaks:
    A solemn air and the best comforter
    To an unsettled fancy cure thy brains,
    Now useless, boil’d within thy skull! There stand,
    For you are spell-stopp’d.
    Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,
    Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine,
    Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace,
    And as the morning steals upon the night, 1970
    Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
    Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
    Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,
    My true preserver, and a loyal sir
    To him you follow’st! I will pay thy graces
    Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly
    Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter:
    Thy brother was a furtherer in the act.
    Thou art pinch’d fort now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood,
    You, brother mine, that entertain’d ambition, 1980
    Expell’d remorse and nature; who, with Sebastian,
    Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,
    Would here have kill’d your king; I do forgive thee,
    Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    Begins to swell, and the approaching tide
    Will shortly fill the reasonable shore
    That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them
    That yet looks on me, or would know me Ariel,
    Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell:
    I will discase me, and myself present 1990
    As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit;
    Thou shalt ere long be free.
    ARIEL sings and helps to attire him
    Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
    In a cowslip’s bell I lie;
    There I couch when owls do cry.
    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.
    Why, that’s my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee: 2000
    But yet thou shalt have freedom: so, so, so.
    To the king’s ship, invisible as thou art:
    There shalt thou find the mariners asleep
    Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain
    Being awake, enforce them to this place,
    And presently, I prithee.
    I drink the air before me, and return
    Or ere your pulse twice beat.
    All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement
    Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us 2010
    Out of this fearful country!
    Behold, sir king,
    The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero:
    For more assurance that a living prince
    All the World’s a Stage
    Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;
    And to thee and thy company I bid
    A hearty welcome.
    Whether thou best he or no,
    Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,
    As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse 2020
    Beats as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,
    The affliction of my mind amends, with which,
    I fear, a madness held me: this must crave,
    An if this be at all, a most strange story.
    Thy dukedom I resign and do entreat
    Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should Prospero
    Be living and be here?
    First, noble friend,
    Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot
    Be measured or confined. 2030
    Whether this be
    Or be not, I’ll not swear.
    You do yet taste
    Some subtilties o’ the isle, that will not let you
    Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all!
    Aside to SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO
    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.
    The devil speaks in him. 2040
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother
    Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive
    Thy rankest fault; all of them; and require
    My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,
    Thou must restore.
    If thou be’st Prospero,
    Give us particulars of thy preservation;
    How thou hast met us here, who three hours since
    Were wreck’d upon this shore; where I have lost— 2050
    How sharp the point of this remembrance is!—
    My dear son Ferdinand.
    I am woe for’t, sir.
    Irreparable is the loss, and patience
    Says it is past her cure.
    I rather think
    You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace
    For the like loss I have her sovereign aid
    And rest myself content.
    You the like loss! 2060
    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.
    A daughter?
    O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,
    All the World’s a Stage
    The king and queen there! that they were, I wish
    Myself were mudded in that oozy bed
    Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?
    In this last tempest. I perceive these lords 2070
    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: but, howsoe’er you have
    Been justled from your senses, know for certain
    That I am Prospero and that very duke
    Which was thrust forth of Milan, who most strangely
    Upon this shore, where you were wreck’d, was landed,
    To be the lord on’t. No more yet of this;
    For ‘tis a chronicle of day by day, 2080
    Not a relation for a breakfast nor
    Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir;
    This cell’s my court: here have I few attendants
    And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in.
    My dukedom since you have given me again,
    I will requite you with as good a thing;
    At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye
    As much as me my dukedom.
    Here PROSPERO discovers FERDINAND and
    MIRANDA playing at chess
    Sweet lord, you play me false.
    No, my dear’st love, 2090
    I would not for the world.
    Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,
    And I would call it, fair play.
    If this prove
    A vision of the Island, one dear son
    Shall I twice lose.
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    A most high miracle!
    Though the seas threaten, they are merciful;
    I have cursed them without cause.
    Now all the blessings 2100
    Of a glad father compass thee about!
    Arise, and say how thou camest here.
    O, wonder!
    How many goodly creatures are there here!
    How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
    That has such people in’t!
    ‘Tis new to thee.
    What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?
    Your eld’st acquaintance cannot be three hours:
    Is she the goddess that hath sever’d us, 2110
    And brought us thus together?
    Sir, she is mortal;
    But by immortal Providence she’s mine:
    I chose her when I could not ask my father
    For his advice, nor thought I had one. She
    Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan,
    Of whom so often I have heard renown,
    But never saw before; of whom I have
    Received a second life; and second father
    This lady makes him to me. 2120
    I am hers:
    But, O, how oddly will it sound that I
    Must ask my child forgiveness!
    All the World’s a Stage
    There, sir, stop:
    Let us not burthen our remembrance with
    A heaviness that’s gone.
    I have inly wept,
    Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you god,
    And on this couple drop a blessed crown!
    For it is you that have chalk’d forth the way 2130
    Which brought us hither.
    I say, Amen, Gonzalo!
    Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue
    Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice
    Beyond a common joy, and set it down
    With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage
    Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis,
    And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife
    Where he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedom
    In a poor isle and all of us ourselves 2140
    When no man was his own.
    Give me your hands:
    Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart
    That doth not wish you joy!
    Be it so! Amen!
    Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boatswain
    amazedly following
    O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us:
    I prophesied, if a gallows were on land,
    This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy,
    That swear’st grace o’erboard, not an oath on shore?
    Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? 2150
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    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.
    [Aside to PROSPERO]
    Sir, all this service
    Have I done since I went.
    [Aside to ARIEL]
    My tricksy spirit!
    These are not natural events; they strengthen
    From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither? 2160
    If I did think, sir, I were well awake,
    I’ld strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,
    And—how we know not—all clapp’d under hatches;
    Where but even now with strange and several noises
    Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains,
    And more diversity of sounds, all horrible,
    We were awaked; straightway, at liberty;
    Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld
    Our royal, good and gallant ship, our master
    Capering to eye her: on a trice, so please you, 2170
    Even in a dream, were we divided from them
    And were brought moping hither.
    [Aside to PROSPERO]
    Was’t well done?
    [Aside to ARIEL]
    Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free.
    All the World’s a Stage
    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.
    Sir, my liege,
    Do not infest your mind with beating on 2180
    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 2190
    Some few odd lads that you remember not.
    Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO and
    TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel
    Every man shift for all the rest, and
    let no man take care for himself; for all is
    but fortune. Coragio, bully-monster, coragio!
    If these be true spies which I wear in my head,
    here’s a goodly sight.
    O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed!
    How fine my master is! I am afraid
    He will chastise me.
    Ha, ha!
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    What things are these, my lord Antonio?
    Will money buy ‘em? 2200
    Very like; one of them
    Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.
    Mark but the badges of these men, my lords,
    Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen 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 2210
    Must know and own; this thing of darkness!
    Acknowledge mine.
    I shall be pinch’d to death.
    Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?
    He is drunk now: where had he wine?
    And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they
    Find this grand liquor that hath gilded ‘em?
    How camest thou in this pickle?
    I have been in such a pickle since I
    saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of 2220
    my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing.
    Why, how now, Stephano!
    All the World’s a Stage
    O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a cramp.
    You’ld be king o’ the isle, sirrah?
    I should have been a sore one then.
    This is a strange thing as e’er I look’d on.
    Pointing to Caliban
    He is as disproportion’d in his manners
    As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell;
    Take with you your companions; as you look 2230
    To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.
    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!
    Go to; away!
    Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. 2240
    Or stole it, rather.
    Sir, I invite your highness and your train
    To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest 2250
    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
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    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-beloved solemnized;
    And thence retire me to my Milan, where
    Every third thought shall be my grave. 2260
    I long
    To hear the story of your life, which must
    Take the ear strangely.
    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. 2270
    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 confined 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: 2280
    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,
    All the World’s a Stage
    Unless I be relieved 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. 2290
    Questions for Consideration:
    1. Unlike Trifles, this play is written in verse. Most lines tend to
    contain 10-11 syllables and some can be read as blank verse,
    unrhymed iambic pentameter. Why would Shakespeare have
    written it this way in his day? What is the effect of this use of
    verse in the characters’ lines?
    2. Gonzalo comments that he believes the boatswain’s fate is to
    be hanged rather than drowned. What point is he making? What
    larger notion of fate in the play is introduced in this passage? How
    does Prospero’s magic affect our notion of fate?
    3. What do we learn of Miranda’s character in her first speech?
    4. What does Prospero reveal to Miranda in their first exchange?
    5. In The Tempest, how does Shakespeare develop the theme of
    ambition and its power to corrupt?
    6. What evidence does the play present of Prospero’s magical powers?
    7. Why is Ariel loyal to Prospero?
    8. How does Prospero describe Caliban, son of Sycorax?
    9. How does Miranda feel about Caliban? Why?
    10. How does Caliban feel about Prospero? Why?
    12. How does Shakespeare use “asides” to convey to the audience
    character attitudes and information that some characters are not
    privy to?
    13. Why does Prospero treat Ferdinand so roughly in the beginning?
    14. What is the effect of metaphors and similes in the play?
    15. How does Gonzalo describe the perfect commonwealth?
    16. Find a passage in the dialogue of Act I, Scene 2 that reveals
    Antonio’s character.
    17. What is the effect of the play-within-a-play, the masque put on by
    Juno, Ceres, and Iris for Miranda and Ferdinand?
    Writing and Literature: Composition as Inquiry, Learning, Thinking, and Communication
    18. How does Prospero’s epilogue further develop the audience’s
    acknowledgement of the play’s being a play? In what way has the
    audience’s power kept Prospero “confined” to the island?
    19. How is the script a kind of fate for the characters?
    20. As traditional to Greek drama, tragedies end in death, comedies
    in marriage. As a comedy, how does this play resolve its conflicts
    in the final events, including the impending marriage of Miranda
    and Ferdinand?
    Shakespeare’s influence on Western culture is undeniable. Not only is
    his work a touchstone for Western literature in general, but many of his
    characters have both drawn from and shaped important literary archetypes
    (figures that appear over and over again in literature for their familiar roles
    in general human dynamics). The Tempest has certainly made its mark in
    this regard, establishing Prospero and Caliban as two important widelyrecognized
    archetypes. Prospero is the magician: a powerful figure able
    to orchestrate events and control outcomes, but held accountable on some
    level for his decisions in doing so. Caliban is the savage: tragic, malformed,
    and yet sensitive to the injustice of his circumstances. Further, this play’s
    archetypal influence is evidenced by the many versions of it that have
    been produced—in theatre, film, and fiction—since Shakespeare’s time.
    For example, Paul Mazursky’s 1982 film Tempest, set in the twentieth
    century yet based on Shakespeare’s play, stars John Cassavetes as the selfexiled
    architect Philip Dimitrius (Prospero) and Molly Ringwald as his
    teenaged daughter Miranda. In two other interesting retellings of the story,
    Julie Taymor’s 2010 film The Tempest stars Helen Mirren as Prospera, and
    Gloria Naylor’s 1988 novel Mama Day employs the storm as plot-vehicle
    as well as featuring Mama Day herself as a black female Prospero-type
    The themes of The Tempest, then, are considered by many to be
    “universal” in their connection to common human experiences such
    as feeling relegated to an unjustly-restricted and inferior status (as
    Caliban is) and deciding whether use of one’s power to alter others’
    lives is justified or not (like Prospero). Dramatic productions have great
    potential to move an audience, and both Trifles and The Tempest offer
    examples of how a play might do so. Through effective use of dramatic
    strategies and powerfully written lines, a play can tap into the most basic
    and profound aspects of human experience.

    This page titled 6.3: Shakespeare’s The Tempest is shared under a CC BY-SA license and was authored, remixed, and/or curated by Tanya Long Bennett (GALILEO Open Learning Materials) .

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