bookssland.com » Drama » The Tempest - William Shakespeare (buy e reader txt) 📗

Book online «The Tempest - William Shakespeare (buy e reader txt) 📗». Author William Shakespeare



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ... 15
Go to page:
let’st thy fortune sleep—die, rather; wink’st

Whiles thou art waking.

Seb.

Thou dost snore distinctly;

There’s meaning in thy snores.

210 Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you

Must be so too, if heed me; which to do

Trebles thee o’er.

Seb.

Well, I am standing water.

Ant. I’ll teach you how to flow.

Seb.

Do so: to ebb

Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Ant.

O,

215 If you but knew how you the purpose cherish

Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,

You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,

Most often do so near the bottom run

By their own fear or sloth.

Seb.

Prithee, say on:

220 The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim

A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,

Which throes thee much to yield.

Ant.

Thus, sir:

Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,

Who shall be of as little memory

II. 1. 225 When he is earth’d, hath here almost persuaded,—

For he’s a spirit of persuasion, only

Professes to persuade,—the king his son’s alive,

’Tis as impossible that he’s undrown’d

As he that sleeps here swims.

Seb.

I have no hope

That he’s undrown’d.

Ant.

230 O, out of that ‘no hope’

What great hope have you! no hope that way is

Another way so high a hope that even

Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me

That Ferdinand is drown’d?

Seb.

He’s gone.

Ant.

235 Then, tell me,

Who’s the next heir of Naples?

Seb.

Claribel.

Ant. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells

Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples

Can have no note, unless the sun were post,—

240 The man i’ the moon’s too slow,—till new-born chins

Be rough and razorable; she that from whom

We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again,

And by that destiny, to perform an act

Whereof what’s past is prologue; what to come,

In yours and my discharge.

Seb.

245 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.

Ant.

A space whose every cubit

Seems to cry out, “How shall that Claribel

II. 1. 250 Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,

And let Sebastian wake.” Say, this were death

That now hath seized 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

255 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.

260 And how does your content

Tender your own good fortune?

Seb.

I remember

You did supplant your brother Prospero.

Ant.

True:

And look how well my garments sit upon me;

Much feater than before: my brother’s servants

265 Were then my fellows; now they are my men.

Seb. But for your conscience.

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if ’twere a kibe,

’Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not

This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,

270 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 upon,

If he were that which now he’s like, that’s dead;

Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,

II. 1. 275 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;

280 They’ll tell the clock to any business that

We say befits the hour.

Seb.

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 payest;

And I the king shall love thee.

Ant.

285 Draw together;

And when I rear my hand, do you the like,

To fall it on Gonzalo.

Seb.

O, but one word. They talk apart.

Re-enter Ariel invisible.

Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger

That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth,—

290 For else his project dies,—to keep them living.

Sings in Gonzalo’s ear.

While you here do snoring lie,

Open-eyed conspiracy

His time doth take.

If of life you keep a care,

295 Shake off slumber, and beware:

Awake, awake!

Ant. Then let us both be sudden.

Gon.

Now, good angels

Preserve the king! They wake.

Alon. Why, how now? ho, awake!—Why are you drawn?

Wherefore this ghastly looking?

Gon.

II. 1. 300 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’t not wake you?

It struck mine ear most terribly.

Alon.

I heard nothing.

305 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.

Alon.

Heard you this, Gonzalo?

Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,

And that a strange one too, which did awake me:

310 I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open’d,

I saw their weapons drawn:—there was a noise,

That’s verily. ’Tis best we 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 search

For my poor son.

Gon.

315 Heavens keep him from these beasts!

For he is, sure, i’ th’ island.

Alon.

Lead away.

Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:

So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. Exeunt.

II. 2 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,

5 Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i’ the mire,

Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark

Out of my way, unless he bid ’em: but

For every trifle are they set upon me;

Sometime like apes, that mow and chatter at me,

10 And after bite me; then like hedgehogs, which

Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount

Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I

All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues

Do hiss me into madness.

Enter Trinculo.

Lo, now, lo!

15 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’ 20 the wind: yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it 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 II. 2. 25 smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like 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 holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange 30 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. Legged 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 35 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 bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.

Enter Stephano, singing: a bottle in his hand.

40 Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea,

Here shall I die a-shore,—

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral: well, here’s my comfort. Drinks.

[Sings. The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,

45 The gunner, and his mate,

Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,

But none of us cared for Kate;

For she had a tongue with a tang,

Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!

II. 2. 50 She loved 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. Drinks.

Cal. Do not torment me:—O!

55 Ste. What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon ’s with savages and men of Ind, ha? I have not scaped 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 60 said so again, while Stephano breathes at’s 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 65 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, prithee; I’ll bring my wood home faster.

70 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.

II. 2. 75 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

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ... 15
Go to page:

Free e-book «The Tempest - William Shakespeare (buy e reader txt) 📗» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment