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.
    If of Life you keepe a care,
    Shake off slumber and beware.
    Awake, awake.
    1010Ant. Then let vs both be sodaine.
    Gon. Now, good Angels preserue the King.
    Alo. Why how now hoa; awake? why are you drawn?
    Wherefore this ghastly looking?
    Gon. What's the matter?
    1015Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
    (Euen now) we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
    Like Buls, or rather Lyons, did't not wake you?
    It strooke mine eare most terribly.
    Alo. I heard nothing.
    1020Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a Monsters eare;
    To make an earthquake: sure it was the roare
    Of a whole heard of Lyons.
    Alo. Heard you this Gonzalo?
    Gon. Vpon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming,
    1025(And that a strange one too) which did awake me:
    I shak'd you Sir, and cride: as mine eyes opend,
    I saw their weapons drawne: there was a noyse,
    That's verily: 'tis best we stand vpon our guard;
    Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.
    1030Alo. Lead off this ground & let's make further search
    For my poore sonne.
    Gon. Heauens keepe him from these Beasts:
    For he is sure i'th Island.
    Alo. Lead away.
    1035Ariell. Prospero my Lord, shall know what I haue
    So (King) goe safely on to seeke thy Son.

    Scœna Secunda.

    Enter Caliban, with a burthen of Wood (a noyse of
    Thunder heard.)

    1040Cal. All the infections that the Sunne suckes vp
    From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
    By ynch-meale a disease: his Spirits heare me,
    And yet I needes must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
    Fright me with Vrchyn-shewes, pitch me i'th mire,
    1045Nor lead me like a fire-brand, in the darke
    Out of my way, vnlesse he bid 'em; but
    For euery trifle, are they set vpon me,
    Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me,
    And after bite me: then like Hedg-hogs, which
    1050Lye tumbling in my bare-foote way, and mount
    Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I
    All wound with Adders, who with clouen tongues
    Doe hisse me into madnesse: Lo, now Lo,
    Enter Trinculo.
    Here comes a Spirit of his, and to torment me
    1055For bringing wood in slowly: I'le fall flat,
    Perchance he will not minde me.
    Tri. Here's neither bush, nor shrub to beare off any
    weather at all: and another Storme brewing, I heare it
    sing ith' winde: yond same blacke cloud, yond huge
    1060one, lookes like a foule bumbard that would shed his
    licquor: if it should thunder, as it did before, I know
    not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot
    choose but fall by paile-fuls. What haue we here, a man,
    or a fish? dead or aliue? a fish, hee smels like a fish: a
    1065very ancient and fish-like smell: a kinde of, not of the

    newest poore-Iohn: a strange fish: were I in England
    now (as once I was) and had but this fish painted; not
    a holiday-foole there but would giue a peece of siluer:
    there, would this Monster, make a man: any strange
    1070beast there, makes a man: when they will not giue a
    doit to relieue a lame Begger, they will lay out ten to see
    a dead Indian: Leg'd like a man; and his Finnes like
    Armes: warme o' my troth: I doe now let loose my o-
    pinion; hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an Islan-
    1075der, that hath lately suffered by a Thunderbolt: Alas,
    the storme is come againe: my best way is to creepe vn-
    der his Gaberdine: there is no other shelter herea-
    bout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfel-
    lowes: I will here shrowd till the dregges of the storme
    1080be past.

    Enter Stephano singing.
    Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, here shall I dye ashore.
    This is a very scuruy tune to sing at a mans
    Funerall: well, here's my comfort.
    The Master, the Swabber, the Boate-swaine & I;
    The Gunner, and his Mate
    Lou'd Mall, Meg, and Marrian, and Margerie,
    But none of vs car'd for Kate.
    For she had a tongue with a tang,
    1090Would cry to a Sailor goe hang:
    She lou'd not the sauour of Tar nor of Pitch,
    Yet a Tailor might scratch her where ere she did itch.
    Then to Sea Boyes, and let her goe hang.
    This is a scuruy tune too:
    1095But here's my comfort.
    Cal. Doe not torment me: oh.
    Ste. What's the matter?
    Haue we diuels here?
    Doe you put trickes vpon's with Saluages, and Men of
    1100Inde? ha? I haue not scap'd drowning, to be afeard
    now of your foure legges: for it hath bin said; as pro-
    per a man as euer went on foure legs, cannot make him
    giue ground: and it shall be said so againe, while Ste-
    phano breathes at' nostrils.
    1105Cal. The Spirit torments me: oh.
    Ste. This is some Monster of the Isle, with foure legs;
    who hath got (as I take it) an Ague: where the diuell
    should he learne our language? I will giue him some re-
    liefe if it be but for that: if I can recouer him, and keepe
    1110him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a Pre-
    sent for any Emperour that euer trod on Neates-lea-
    Cal. Doe not torment me 'prethee: I'le bring my
    wood home faster.
    1115Ste. He's in his fit now; and doe's not talke after the
    wisest; hee shall taste of my Bottle: if hee haue neuer
    drunke wine afore, it will goe neere to remoue his Fit:
    if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, I will not take
    too much for him; hee shall pay for him that hath him,
    1120and that soundly.
    Cal. Thou do'st me yet but little hurt; thou wilt a-
    non, I know it by thy trembling: Now Prosper workes
    vpon thee.
    Ste. Come on your wayes: open your mouth: here
    1125is that which will giue 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 againe.
    Tri. I should know that voyce:
    1130It should be,