Page images
[blocks in formation]

Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'dfather: This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes :-I hear it now above me. Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say, what thou seest yond'. Mira. What is't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form:-But 'tis a spirit. [senses Pro. No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath such 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 might'st call A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, [him And strays about to find them.

Mira. I might call him A thing divine; for nothing natural I ever saw so noble.


It goes on, (Aside.) As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free Within two days for this. [thee. Fer. 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 pronouce, is, O, you wonder! If you be made or no? Mira.

No wonder, sir;

But, certainly a maid.

My language! heavens !-
I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken.


Mira. 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 inclin'd my way!


How! the best? What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee? Fer. 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, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The king my father wreck'd.

Mira. Alack, for mercy! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of Milan And his brave son, being twain. Pro. The duke of Milan, And his more braver daughter, could control thee If now 'twere fit to do't:-At the first sight (Aside.) They have chang'd eyes:-Delicate Ariel, F'll set thee free for this!-A word, good sir; I fear you have done yourself some wrong: A word.

O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples.

Pro. Soft, sir; one word more.They are both in either's powers; but this swift business

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning (Aside.) Make the prize light.-One word more, I charge thee,

That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
The name thou ow'st 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. Mira.There's nothing ill candwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair an house, Good things will strive to dwell with't. Pro. Follow me.-(To Ferd.) 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.


(He draws.) 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 mak'st a shew, but dar'st 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.

Beseech you, father!
Pro. 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 impostor? hush!

Thou think'st, there are no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: Foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban,

And they to him are angels.

My affections
Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

Come on; obey: (To Ferd.
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.

Fer. So they are: My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, The wreck of all my friends, or 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.

Pro. It works:-Come on.Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!-Follow me.(To Ferd. and Mir.) Hark, what thou else shalt do me. (To Ariel.) Mira. 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 as free

As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command.

To the syllable.
Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt.


SCENE I.—Another part of the Island.

ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others.

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


Pr'ythee, peace.
Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.
Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit;
by and by it will strike.

Gon. Šir,

Seb. A dollar.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have
spoken truer than you purposed.
Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you
Gon. Therefore, my lord,-

Ant. Fy, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
Alon. I pr'ythee, spare.

Gon. Well, I have done: But yet

Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.

Gon. Ay?

Ant. Why, in good time.

Seb. One-Tell.

Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's offer'd, seem now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis at the Comes to the entertainermarriage of your daughter, who is now queen. Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido. Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.

Ant. The cockrel.

Seb. Done: The wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against The stomach of my sense: 'Would I had never

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, wager, first begins to crow?

My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,

Seb. The old cock.

I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,-
Seb. Ha, ha, ha!

Ant. So, you've pay'd.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,-
Seb. Yet-

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not miss it.

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. [livered.
Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly de-
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.
Seb. Of that there's none, or little.
Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how
Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb. With an eye of green in't.
Ant. He misses not much.


Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is, (which is indeed almost beyond credit)—

Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are.

Gon. That our garments being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding their freshness, and glosses; being rather new dy'd, than stain'd with salt water.

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. Ant. Widow a pox o' that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido!

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, he lies?

Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter, Claribel, to the king of Tunis.

Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Seb. What if he had said, widower Eneas too? good lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Adr. Tanis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen.

Adr. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too. Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?

Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee!

[blocks in formation]

Gon. I' the commonwealth, I would by contraries Execute all things: for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; no use of service, Of riches, or of poverty; no contracts, Successions; bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none: No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil: No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too; but innocent and pure : No sovereignty:


And yet he would be king on't. Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.

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

Seb. No marrying among his subjects? Ant. None, man; all idie; whores, and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age.

Seb. 'Save his majesty! Ant. Long live Gonzalo! Goa. And, do you mark me, sir?- [me. Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing.

Ant. Twas you we laugh'd at.

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

Ant. What a blow was there given!
Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.

Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.

Enter ARIEL invisible, playing solemn music. Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Aut. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

(All sleep but Alon. Seb. and Ant.) Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thonghts: I They are inclin'd to do so. [find,

Seb. Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, 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.
Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.
Doth it not then our eye-lids sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.

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, methinks, I see it in thy face, [and What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee; My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head.

Seb. What, art thou waking? Ant. Do you not hear me speak? Seb. I do; and, surely, 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

[blocks in formation]


O, out of that no hope, What great hope have you! No hope, that way, is Another way so high an hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with That Ferdinand is drown'd?

[me, He's gone. Then, tell me,


Who's the next heir of Naples?


Seb. Ant. She, that is queen of Tunis; she, that dwells Ten league's beyond man's life; she, that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post, (The man i' the moon's too slow,) till new-born chins Be rough and razorable; she, from whom We were all sea-swallow'd, though some cast again; And by that destin'd to perform an act, Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come, In yours and my discharge.

Seb. What stuff is this?-How say you? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis: So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is some space.


A space whose every cubit Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples?-Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake!-Say, this were death That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no worse Than now they are: There be, that can rule Naples, As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate As amply, and unnecessarily, As this Gonzalo; I myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore The mind that I do! what a sleep were this For your advancement! Do you understand me? Seb. Methinks, I do. Ant.

And how does your content Tender your own good fortune?


Seb. I remember, You did supplant your brother Prospero. Ant. And, look, how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater than before: My brother's servants Were then my fellows, now they are my men. Seb. But, for your conscience

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kibe,

"Twould put me to my slipper: But I feel not
This deity in my bosom; twenty consciences,
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 apon,

If he were that which now he's like; 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,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword; one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st;
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 converse apart.) Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible. Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger That these, his friends, are in; and sends me forth, (For else his project dies,) to keep them living. (Sings in Gonzalo's ear.) While you here do snoring lie, Open-ey'd Conspiracy His time doth take:

If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake! Awake!

Ant. Then let us both be sudden. (They wake.)
Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king!
Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you
Wherefore this ghastly looking?
What's the matter?
Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions; did it not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.


I heard nothing. Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear; To make an earthquake! sure it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions.

All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues, Do hiss me into madness:-Lo! now! lo!

Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo? Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, Í heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me: I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd; as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn:-there was a noise, That's verity: Best stand upon our guard; Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make further For my poor son. [search Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island. Alon.

done :

Lead away. Ari. Prospero, my lord, shall know what I have (Aside.) So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Another part of the Island. Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard.

Cal. 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, Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire, Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid them; but For every trifle are they set upon me: Sometime like apes, that moe and chatter at me, And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I


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.

Trin. 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 bumbard that would shed his liquor. Ifit should thunder, as it did before, I know not 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 holyday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd 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 thunderbolt. (Thunder.) Alas! the storm is come again: my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past.

Enter STEPHANO, singing; a bottle in his hand.
Steph. I shall no more to sea, to sea,
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral;
Here shall I die ashore;—
Well, here's my comfort.

The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
The gunner, and his mate,
Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,

But none of us car'd for Kate:
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go hang:
She lov'd 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.

Cal. Do not torment me: O!

Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not 'scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever went on four legs, cannot make him give ground; and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at nostrils. Cal. The spirit torments me: O!

Ste. 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, and keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever

trod on neat's-leather.

Cal. Do not torment me, pr'y thee;

I'll bring my wood home faster.

Ste. 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, it 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.

Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt Anon, I know it by thy trembling: Now Prosper works upon thee.

Ste. 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.

Trin. I should know that voice: It should beBat he is drowned; and these are devils: O! defend me!

Ste. 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, 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. Trin. Stephano,

Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy! will merey! This is a devil, and no monster: leave him; I have no lorg spoon.

Trin. Stephano!-if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo;-be not afeard,-thy good friend Trinculo.

Ste. 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 cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? Can be vent Trinculos?

Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunderstroke:-But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I bope 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 thouliving, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scap'd!

Ste. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about; my stomach

is not constant.

Cal. These be fine things, an if they be not sprites. That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor: I will kneel to him.

Ste. How did'st thou 'scape? how cam'st thou hither? swear by this bottle, how thou cam'st hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sailors beaved over-board, by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast a-shore.

Trin. A most ridiculous monster; to make a wonder of a poor drunkard.

Cal. I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; And I, with my long nails, will dig thee pig-nuts; Shew thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee To clust'ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee Young sea-mells from the rock: Wilt thou go with me? Ste. I pr'ythee now, lead the way, without any more talking.-Trinculo, the king and all our company else being drowned, we will inherit here.Here; bear my bottle. Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again.

Cal. Farewell, master; farewell, farewell.
(Sings drunkenly.)
Trin. A howling monster; a drunken monster.
Cal. No more dams I'll make for fish;
Nor fetch in firing
At requiring,

Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish;
'Ban, 'Ban, Ca-Caliban,

Has a new master-Get a new man.

Cal. I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy True subject; for the liquor is not earthly.

Ste. Here; swear then how thou escap'dst. Trin. Swam a-shore, man, like a duck; I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn.

Ste. Here, kiss the book: Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose.

Tria. O Stephano, hast any more of this? Ste. The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a rock by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf? how does thine ague?

Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven? Ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man in the moon, when time was.

Cal. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee: My mistress shewed me thee, thy dog, and bush.

Ste. Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish it anon with new contents: swear.

Trin. By this good light, this is a very shallow monster:-I afeard of him?-a very weak monster: -The man 'i' the moon?-a most poor credulous monster: Well drawn, monster, in good sooth. Cal. I'll shew thee every fertile inch o' the island; And kiss thy foot: I pr'ythee, be my god.

Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster; when his god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle. Cal. I'll kiss thy foot: I'll swear myself thy sub[ject. Ste. Come on then; down, and swear. puppyTria. I shall laugh myself to death at this headed monster: A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him,—

Ste. Come, kiss.

Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-day, freedom!

Ste. O brave monster! lead the way. [Exeunt. ACT III.

SCENE I.-Before Prospero's Cell.
Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log.

Fer. There be some sports are painful; but their
Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters
Point to rich ends. This my mean task would be
As heavy to me, as 'tis odious; but
The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed;
And he's compos'd 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
Had ne'er like executor. I forget: [baseness
But these sweet thoughts doeven refresh mylabours;
Most busy-less, when I do it.

Trin. but that the poor monster's in drink: an
[thee berries;
abominable monster!
Cal. I'll shew thee the best springs; I'll pluck
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 wond'rous man.

Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance. Mira. Alas, now! pray you, Work not so hard: I would, the lightning had 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.


I'll bear your logs the while: I'll carry it to the pile.


I had rather crack my Than you should such While I sit lazy by.

If you'll sit down, Pray, give me that;

No, precious creature: sinews, break my back, dishonour undergo,

It would become me and I should do it for my good will is to it,


As well as it does you:
With much more ease;
And yours against.
Poor worm! thou art infected;
This visitation shews it.

You look wearily. [me,
Fer. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with
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!


Admir'd Miranda!

[ocr errors][ocr errors]
« PreviousContinue »