Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: The Tempest (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editors: Brent Whitted, Paul Yachnin
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-370-0

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editors: Brent Whitted, Paul Yachnin
    Peer Reviewed

    The Tempest (Folio 1, 1623)

    T H E
    T E M P E S T.

    Actus primus, Scena prima.

    A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: En-
    ter a Ship-master, and a Boteswaine.

    Botes. Heere Master: What cheere?
    Mast. Good: Speake to th'Mariners: fall
    too't, yarely, or we run our selues a ground,
    bestirre, bestirre.
    Enter Mariners.
    Botes. Heigh my hearts, cheerely, cheerely my harts:
    yare, yare: Take in the toppe-sale: Tend to th'Masters
    whistle: Blow till thou burst thy winde, if roome e-
    Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando,
    Gonzalo, and others.
    Alon. Good Boteswaine haue care: where's the Ma-
    ster? Play the men.
    Botes. I pray now keepe below.
    20Anth. Where is the Master, Boson?
    Botes. Do you not heare him? you marre our labour,
    Keepe your Cabines: you do assist the storme.
    Gonz. Nay, good be patient.
    Botes. When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roa-
    25rers for the name of King? to Cabine; silence: trouble
    vs not.
    Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboord.
    Botes. None that I more loue then my selfe. You are
    a Counsellor, if you can command these Elements to si-
    30lence, and worke the peace of the present, wee will not
    hand a rope more, vse your authoritie: If you cannot,
    giue thankes you haue liu'd so long, and make your
    selfe readie in your Cabine for the mischance of the
    houre, if it so hap. Cheerely good hearts: out of our
    35way I say.
    Gon. I haue great comfort from this fellow: methinks
    he hath no drowning marke vpon him, his complexion
    is perfect Gallowes: stand fast good Fate to his han-
    ging, make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our
    40owne doth little aduantage: If he be not borne to bee
    hang'd, our case is miserable.
    Enter Boteswaine.
    Botes. Downe with the top-Mast: yare, lower, lower,
    bring her to Try with Maine-course. A plague ---
    45 A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo.

    vpon this howling: they are lowder then the weather,
    or our office: yet againe? What do you heere? Shal we
    giue ore and drowne, haue you a minde to sinke?
    Sebas. A poxe o'your throat, you bawling, blasphe-
    50mous incharitable Dog.
    Botes. Worke you then.
    Anth. Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noyse-
    maker, we are lesse afraid to be drownde, then thou art.
    Gonz. I'le warrant him for drowning, though the
    55Ship were no stronger then a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as
    an vnstanched wench.
    Botes. Lay her a hold, a hold, set her two courses off
    to Sea againe, lay her off.

    Enter Mariners wet.
    60Mari. All lost, to prayers, to prayers, all lost.
    Botes. What must our mouths be cold?
    Gonz. The King, and Prince, at prayers, let's assist them,
    for our case is as theirs.
    Sebas. I'am out of patience.
    65An. We are meerly cheated of our liues by drunkards,
    This wide-chopt-rascall, would thou mightst lye drow-
    ning the washing of ten Tides.
    Gonz. Hee'l be hang'd yet,
    Though euery drop of water sweare against it,
    70And gape at widst to glut him.
    A confused noyse within.
    Mercy on vs.
    We split, we split, Farewell my wife, and children,
    Farewell brother: we split, we split, we split.
    Anth. Let's all sinke with' King
    75Seb. Let's take leaue of him.
    Gonz. Now would I giue a thousand furlongs of Sea,
    for an Acre of barren ground: Long heath, Browne
    firrs, any thing; the wills aboue be done, but I would
    faine dye a dry death.

    Scena Secunda.

    Enter Prospero and Miranda.
    Mira. If by your Art (my deerest father) you haue
    Put the wild waters in this Rore; alay them:
    The skye it seemes would powre down stinking pitch,
    85But that the Sea, mounting to th' welkins cheeke,
    Dashes the fire out. Oh! I haue suffered
    With those that I saw suffer: A braue vessell