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  • 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)

    4
    The Tempest.
    (Which I dispers'd) they all haue met againe,
    And are vpon the Mediterranian Flote
    Bound sadly home for Naples,
    355Supposing that they saw the Kings ship wrackt,
    And his great person perish.
    Pro. Ariel, thy charge
    Exactly is perform'd; but there's more worke:
    What is the time o'th'day?
    360Ar. Past the mid season.
    Pro. At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & now
    Must by vs both be spent most preciously.
    Ar. Is there more toyle? Since yu dost giue me pains,
    Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
    365Which is not yet perform'd me.
    Pro. How now? moodie?
    What is't thou canst demand?
    Ar. My Libertie.
    Pro. Before the time be out? no more:
    370Ar. I prethee,
    Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice,
    Told thee no lyes, made thee no mistakings, serv'd
    Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promise
    To bate me a full yeere.
    375Pro. Do'st thou forget
    From what a torment I did free thee? Ar.No.
    Pro. Thou do'st: & thinkst it much to tread ye Ooze
    Of the salt deepe;
    To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North,
    380To doe me businesse in the veines o'th' earth
    When it is bak'd with frost.
    Ar. I doe not Sir.
    Pro. Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot
    The fowle Witch Sycorax, who with Age and Enuy
    385Was growne into a hoope? hast thou forgot her?
    Ar. No Sir.
    Pro. Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me:
    Ar. Sir, in Argier.
    Pro. Oh, was she so: I must
    390Once in a moneth recount what thou hast bin,
    Which thou forgetst. This damn'd Witch Sycorax
    For mischiefes manifold, and sorceries terrible
    To enter humane hearing, from Argier
    Thou know'st was banish'd: for one thing she did
    395They wold not take her life: Is not this true? Ar. I, Sir.
    Pro. This blew ey'd hag, was hither brought with (child,
    And here was left by th' Saylors; thou my slaue,
    As thou reportst thy selfe, was then her seruant,
    And for thou wast a Spirit too delicate
    400To act her earthy, and abhord commands,
    Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee
    By helpe of her more potent Ministers,
    And in her most vnmittigable rage,
    Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift
    405Imprison'd, thou didst painefully remaine
    A dozen yeeres: within which space she di'd,
    And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanes
    As fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island
    (Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere,
    410A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd with
    A humane shape.
    Ar. Yes: Caliban her sonne.
    Pro. Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban
    Whom now I keepe in seruice, thou best know'st
    415What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones
    Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breasts
    Of euer-angry Beares; it was a torment
    To lay vpon the damn'd, which Sycorax
    Could not againe vndoe: it was mine Art,
    420When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gape
    The Pyne, and let thee out.
    Ar. I thanke thee Master.
    Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an Oake
    And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till
    425Thou hast howl'd away twelue winters.
    Ar. Pardon, Master,
    I will be correspondent to command
    And doe my spryting, gently.
    Pro. Doe so: and after two daies
    430I will discharge thee.
    Ar. That's my noble Master:
    What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe?
    Pro. Goe make thy selfe like a Nymph o'th' Sea,
    Be subiect to no sight but thine, and mine: inuisible
    435To euery eye-ball else: goe take this shape
    And hither come in't: goe: hence
    With diligence. Exit.
    Pro. Awake, deere hart awake, thou hast slept well,
    Awake.
    440Mir. The strangenes of your story, put
    Heauinesse in me.
    Pro. Shake it off: Come on,
    Wee'll visit Caliban, my slaue, who neuer
    Yeelds vs kinde answere.
    445Mir. 'Tis a villaine Sir, I doe not loue to looke on.
    Pro. But as 'tis
    We cannot misse him: he do's make our fire,
    Fetch in our wood, and serues in Offices
    That profit vs: What hoa: slaue: Caliban:
    450Thou Earth, thou: speake.
    Cal. within. There's wood enough within.
    Pro. Come forth I say, there's other busines for thee:
    Come thou Tortoys, when? Enter Ariel like a water-
    Fine apparision: my queint Ariel, Nymph.
    455Hearke in thine eare.
    Ar. My Lord, it shall be done. Exit.
    Pro. Thou poysonous slaue, got by ye diuell himselfe
    Vpon thy wicked Dam; come forth. Enter Caliban.
    Cal. As wicked dewe, as ere my mother brush'd
    460With Rauens feather from vnwholesome Fen
    Drop on you both: A Southwest blow on yee,
    And blister you all ore.
    Pro. For this be sure, to night thou shalt haue cramps,
    Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath vp, Vrchins
    465Shall for that vast of night, that they may worke
    All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd
    As thicke as hony-combe, each pinch more stinging
    Then Bees that made 'em.
    Cal. I must eat my dinner:
    470This Island's mine by Sycorax my mother,
    Which thou tak'st from me: when thou cam'st first
    Thou stroakst me, & made much of me: wouldst giue me
    Water with berries in't: and teach me how
    To name the bigger Light, and how the lesse
    475That burne by day, and night: and then I lou'd thee
    And shew'd thee all the qualities o'th' Isle,
    The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertill,
    Curs'd be I that did so: All the Charmes
    Of Sycorax: Toades, Beetles, Batts light on you:
    480For I am all the Subiects that you haue,
    Which first was min owne King: and here you sty-me
    In this hard Rocke, whiles you doe keepe from me
    The rest o'th' Island.
    Pro. Thou
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