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)

    The Tempest.
    Iuno sings her blessings on you.
    Earths increase, foyzon plentie,
    Barnes, and Garners, neuer empty.
    Vines, with clustring bunches growing,
    Plants, wtth goodly burthen bowing:
    1775Spring come to you at the farthest,
    In the very end of Haruest.
    Scarcity and want shall shun you,
    Ceres blessing so is on you.
    Fer. This is a most maiesticke vision, and
    1780Harmonious charmingly: may I be bold
    To thinke these spirits?
    Pro. Spirits, which by mine Art
    I haue from their confines call'd to enact
    My present fancies.
    1785Fer. Let me liue here euer,
    So rare a wondred Father, and a wife
    Makes this place Paradise.
    Pro. Sweet now, silence:
    Iuno and Ceres whisper seriously,
    1790There's something else to doe: hush, and be mute
    Or else our spell is mar'd.
    Iuno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment.
    Iris. You Nimphs cald Nayades of ye windring brooks,
    With your sedg'd crownes, and euer-harmelesse lookes,
    1795Leaue your crispe channels, and on this green-Land
    Answere your summons, Iuno do's command.
    Come temperate Nimphes, and helpe to celebrate
    A Contract of true Loue: be not too late.
    Enter Certaine Nimphes.
    1800You Sun-burn'd Sicklemen of August weary,
    Come hether from the furrow, and be merry,
    Make holly day: your Rye-straw hats put on,
    And these fresh Nimphes encounter euery one
    In Country footing.
    Enter certaine Reapers (properly habited:) they ioyne with
    the Nimphes, in a gracefull dance, towards the end where-
    of, Prospero starts sodainly and speakes, after which to a
    strange hollow and confused noyse, they heauily vanish.
    Pro. I had forgot that foule conspiracy
    1810Of the beast Calliban, and his confederates
    Against my life: the minute of their plot
    Is almost come: Well done, auoid: no more.
    Fer. This is strange: your fathers in some passion
    That workes him strongly.
    1815Mir. Neuer till this day
    Saw I him touch'd with anger, so distemper'd.
    Pro. You doe looke (my son) in a mou'd sort,
    As if you were dismaid: be cheerefull Sir,
    Our Reuels now are ended: These our actors,
    1820(As I foretold you) were all Spirits, and
    Are melted into Ayre, into thin Ayre,
    And like the baselesse fabricke of this vision
    The Clowd-capt Towres, the gorgeous Pallaces,
    The solemne Temples, the great Globe it selfe,
    1825Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolue,
    And like this insubstantiall Pageant faded
    Leaue not a racke behinde: we are such stuffe
    As dreames are made on; and our little life
    Is rounded with a sleepe: Sir, I am vext,
    1830Beare with my weakenesse, my old braine is troubled:
    Be not disturb'd with my infirmitie,
    If you be pleas'd, retire into my Cell,
    And there repose, a turne or two, Ile walke
    To still my beating minde.
    1835Fer. Mir. We wish your peace.

    Pro. Come with a thought; I thank thee Ariell: come.
    Enter Ariell.
    Ar. Thy thoughts I cleaue to, what's thy pleasure?
    Pro. Spirit: We must prepare to meet with Caliban.
    1840Ar. I my Commander, when I presented Ceres
    I thought to haue told thee of it, but I fear'd
    Least I might anger thee.
    Pro. Say again, where didst thou leaue these varlots?
    Ar. I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking,
    1845So full of valour, that they smote the ayre
    For breathing in their faces: beate the ground
    For kissing of their feete; yet alwaies bending
    Towards their proiect: then I beate my Tabor,
    At which like vnback't colts they prickt their eares,
    1850Aduanc'd their eye-lids, lifted vp their noses
    As they smelt musicke, so I charm'd their eares
    That Calfe-like, they my lowing follow'd, through
    Tooth'd briars, sharpe firzes, pricking gosse, & thorns,
    Which entred their fraile shins: at last I left them
    1855I'th' filthy mantled poole beyond your Cell,
    There dancing vp to th'chins, that the fowle Lake
    Ore-stunck their feet.
    Pro. This was well done (my bird)
    Thy shape inuisible retaine thou still:
    1860The trumpery in my house, goe bring it hither
    For stale to catch these theeues.
    Ar. I go, I goe. Exit.
    Pro. A Deuill, a borne-Deuill, on whose nature
    Nurture can neuer sticke: on whom my paines
    Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost,
    1865And, as with age, his body ouglier growes,
    So his minde cankers: I will plague them all,
    Euen to roaring: Come, hang on them this line.
    Enter Ariell, loaden with glistering apparell, &c. Enter
    Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet.
    1870Cal. Pray you tread softly, that the blinde Mole may
    not heare a foot fall: we now are neere his Cell.
    St. Monster, your Fairy, wc you say is a harmles Fairy,
    Has done little better then plaid the Iacke with vs.
    Trin. Monster, I do smell all horse-pisse, at which
    1875My nose is in great indignation.
    Ste. So is mine. Do you heare Monster: If I should
    Take a displeasure against you: Looke you.
    Trin. Thou wert but a lost Monster.
    Cal. Good my Lord, giue me thy fauour stil,
    1880Be patient, for the prize Ile bring thee too
    Shall hudwinke this mischance: therefore speake softly,
    All's husht as midnight yet.
    Trin. I, but to loose our bottles in the Poole.
    Ste. There is not onely disgrace and dishonor in that
    1885Monster, but an infinite losse.
    Tr. That's more to me then my wetting:
    Yet this is your harmlesse Fairy, Monster.
    Ste. I will fetch off my bottle,
    Though I be o're eares for my labour.
    1890Cal. Pre-thee (my King) be quiet. Seest thou heere
    This is the mouth o'th Cell: no noise, and enter:
    Do that good mischeefe, which may make this Island
    Thine owne for euer, and I thy Caliban
    For aye thy foot-licker.
    1895Ste. Giue me thy hand,
    I do begin to haue bloody thoughts.
    Trin. O King Stephano, O Peere: O worthy Stephano,
    Looke what a wardrobe heere is for thee.
    Cal. Let it alone thou foole, it is but trash.
    1900Tri. Oh, ho, Monster: wee know what belongs to a
    frippery, O King Stephano.
    B 2
    Ste. Put