The Tempest, Act 1, Scene 2

If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to th’ welkin’s cheek, Dashes the fire out. O! I have suffered With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel, Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her, Dash’d all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish’d. Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth, or ere It should the good ship so have swallow’d and The fraughting souls within her.

If you have used your magic, my dearest father, to make the wild waters roar like this, calm them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking tar, if the sea, rising to the sky's cheek, did not put the fire out. Oh, I have suffered along with those I saw suffering! A splendid ship, which certainly had some noble person on board, smashed all to pieces. Oh, the cry struck against my very heart. Poor souls, they died. If I had been any god with power, I would have sunk the sea into the earth before it could have swallowed the good ship like that, and the souls it carried in it.

Be collected: No more amazement: tell your piteous heart There’s no harm done.

Calm yourself. No more horror: tell your pitying heart that no harm has been done.

O, woe the day!

Oh, what a terrible day!

No harm. I have done nothing but in care of thee, Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing Of whence I am, nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father.

No harm. I have done nothing except out of concern for you — for you, my dear one, you, my daughter, who do not know what you are, knowing nothing of where I come from, or that I am anything better than Prospero, the master of a very poor cell, and your father, who is nothing more than that.

More to know Did never meddle with my thoughts.

The wish to know more never once troubled my thoughts.

’Tis time I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, And pluck my magic garment from me.—So:

It is time I told you more. Give me your hand, and take my magic robe off me. — There:

Lie there my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wrack, which touch’d The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such provision in mine art So safely ordered that there is no soul— No, not so much perdition as an hair Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st sink. Sit down; For thou must now know farther.

Lie there, my magic. Wipe your eyes; take comfort. The dreadful sight of the shipwreck, which stirred the very power of pity in you, I have arranged so carefully with my art, so safely, that there is not one soul — no, not so much loss as a single hair — that has come to any creature in that ship you heard crying out, that you saw sink. Sit down, because now you must know more.

You have often Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp’d, And left me to a bootless inquisition, Concluding “Stay; not yet.”

You have often begun to tell me what I am, but stopped, and left me to a useless questioning, ending with "Wait; not yet."

The hour’s now come, The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time before we came unto this cell? I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not Out three years old.

The hour has now come; this very minute tells you to open your ear. Obey, and pay attention. Can you remember a time before we came to this cell? I don't think you can, because then you weren't quite three years old.

Certainly, sir, I can.

I certainly can, sir.

By what? By any other house, or person? Of anything the image, tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance.

By what? By some other house, or some other person? Tell me the image of anything that has stayed in your memory.

’Tis far off, And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants. Had I not Four or five women once that tended me?

It is far off, and more like a dream than something my memory can guarantee as certain. Didn't I once have four or five women looking after me?

Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? If thou rememb’rest aught ere thou cam’st here, How thou cam’st here, thou mayst.

You did, and more, Miranda. But how is it that this survives in your mind? What else do you see in the dark reaches and the bottomless depth of time? If you remember anything from before you came here, you may remember how you came here.

But that I do not.

But that I don't remember.

Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and A prince of power.

Twelve years ago, Miranda, twelve years ago, your father was the Duke of Milan, and a prince of great power.

Sir, are not you my father?

Sir, aren't you my father?

Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou wast my daughter. And thy father Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir And princess, no worse issued.

Your mother was virtue itself, and she said you were my daughter. And your father was Duke of Milan, and you his only heir and a princess, of no lower birth than that.

O, the heavens! What foul play had we that we came from thence? Or blessed was’t we did?

Oh, heavens! What wicked plot drove us away from there? Or was it a blessing that we left?

Both, both, my girl. By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heav’d thence; But blessedly holp hither.

Both, both, my girl. By a wicked plot, as you say, we were thrown out of there; but we were blessedly helped here.

O, my heart bleeds To think o’ th’ teen that I have turn’d you to, Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.

Oh, my heart bleeds to think of the grief I have put you to, which I have no memory of. Please, go on.

My brother and thy uncle, call’d Antonio— I pray thee, mark me, that a brother should Be so perfidious!—he whom next thyself Of all the world I lov’d, and to him put The manage of my state; as at that time Through all the signories it was the first, And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed In dignity, and for the liberal arts, Without a parallel: those being all my study, The government I cast upon my brother, And to my state grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle— Dost thou attend me?

My brother, your uncle, named Antonio — please, listen to me: that a brother should be so treacherous! — he whom, next to you, I loved above everyone in the world, and I handed over to him the running of my state; which at that time was the first among all the Italian states, and Prospero the leading duke, with a reputation for dignity, and in the liberal arts without an equal. Since those were all my study, I put the government on my brother, and grew a stranger to my own state, being carried away and absorbed in secret studies. Your treacherous uncle — are you listening to me?

Sir, most heedfully.

Sir, with all my attention.

Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, who t’ advance, and who To trash for over-topping, new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang’d ’em, Or else new form’d ’em: having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts i’ th’ state To what tune pleas’d his ear: that now he was The ivy which had hid my princely trunk, And suck’d my verdure out on ’t. Thou attend’st not.

Once he had mastered how to grant petitions, how to refuse them, who to promote, and who to cut back for growing too tall, he created new men out of those who had been mine — I mean, he either changed them or made them over completely. Holding the key to both the officer and the office, he tuned every heart in the state to whatever tune pleased his ear. So that by now he was the ivy that had hidden my princely trunk and sucked all my green life out of it. You are not listening.

O, good sir! I do.

Oh, good sir, I am.

I pray thee, mark me. I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness and the bettering of my mind With that which, but by being so retir’d, O’er-priz’d all popular rate, in my false brother Awak’d an evil nature; and my trust, Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood in its contrary as great As my trust was; which had indeed no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded, Not only with what my revenue yielded, But what my power might else exact, like one Who having into truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie, he did believe He was indeed the Duke; out o’ the substitution, And executing th’ outward face of royalty, With all prerogative. Hence his ambition growing— Dost thou hear?

Please, listen to me. I, neglecting worldly affairs like this, entirely devoted to seclusion and to improving my mind with studies which, simply because they were so withdrawn from the world, were valued beyond any popular estimation — I woke an evil nature in my treacherous brother; and my trust, like a good parent, fathered in him a falseness as great in its opposite way as my trust was great; and my trust had no limit at all, a confidence without bounds. Being made a lord in this way, not only with what my revenue brought in, but with whatever else my power could raise, like a man who, by repeatedly telling a lie as truth, makes such a sinner of his memory that he believes his own lie, he came to believe he really was the Duke, from standing in for me, and from carrying out the outward show of royalty with all its privileges. And so his ambition grew — do you hear me?

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

Your story, sir, would cure deafness.

To have no screen between this part he play’d And him he play’d it for, he needs will be Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties He thinks me now incapable; confederates, So dry he was for sway, wi’ th’ King of Naples To give him annual tribute, do him homage, Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend The dukedom, yet unbow’d—alas, poor Milan!— To most ignoble stooping.

So that there would be no screen between the part he was playing and the man he played it for, he had to be the absolute ruler of Milan. As for me, poor man, my library was a big enough dukedom. He now thinks me unfit for worldly rule; he makes an alliance — so thirsty was he for power — with the King of Naples, to pay him a yearly tribute, to do him homage, to make his ducal crown subject to that king's crown, and to bend the dukedom, which had never bowed before — alas, poor Milan! — to the most shameful submission.

O the heavens!

Oh, the heavens!

Mark his condition, and the event; then tell me If this might be a brother.

Listen to the terms he agreed, and what came of it; then tell me if this could be a brother.

I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.

It would be a sin for me to think anything but nobly of my grandmother. Good wombs have given birth to bad sons.

Now the condition. This King of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit; Which was, that he, in lieu o’ th’ premises Of homage and I know not how much tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan, With all the honours on my brother: whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to th’ purpose, did Antonio open The gates of Milan; and, i’ th’ dead of darkness, The ministers for th’ purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self.

Now, the terms. This King of Naples, being a long-standing enemy of mine, listens to my brother's request; which was that, in return for the conditions already named — homage and I don't know how much tribute — he should at once root out me and mine from the dukedom, and hand over fair Milan with all its honours to my brother. Upon which, a treacherous army was raised, and one midnight chosen for the purpose, Antonio opened the gates of Milan; and, in the dead of darkness, the agents hired for the job rushed me and you, crying, away from there.

Alack, for pity! I, not rememb’ring how I cried out then, Will cry it o’er again: it is a hint That wrings mine eyes to ’t.

Alas, what a pity! I, not remembering how I cried out then, will cry about it all over again: this is an occasion that wrings tears out of my eyes.

Hear a little further, And then I’ll bring thee to the present business Which now’s upon us; without the which this story Were most impertinent.

Listen a little further, and then I'll bring you to the present business that is on us now; without that, this story would be quite beside the point.

Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us?

Why didn't they destroy us then and there?

Well demanded, wench: My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, So dear the love my people bore me, nor set A mark so bloody on the business; but With colours fairer painted their foul ends. In few, they hurried us aboard a bark, Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigg’d, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us, To cry to th’ sea, that roar’d to us; to sigh To th’ winds, whose pity, sighing back again, Did us but loving wrong.

A good question, girl. My story invites that question. My dear, they dared not, so deeply did my people love me, and they dared not put so bloody a stamp on the business; instead they painted their foul purposes in fairer colours. In short, they hurried us onto a ship, carried us some miles out to sea, where they had prepared a rotten hulk of a boat, with no rigging, no tackle, sail, or mast; the very rats had left it by instinct. There they set us afloat, to cry to the sea that roared back at us, to sigh to the winds, whose pity, sighing back again, only wronged us out of love.

Alack, what trouble Was I then to you!

Alas, what trouble I must have been to you then!

O, a cherubin Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck’d the sea with drops full salt, Under my burden groan’d: which rais’d in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue.

Oh, you were a little angel who kept me alive. You smiled, filled with a strength from heaven, while I covered the sea with salt tears and groaned under my burden; and that raised in me a spirit to endure, to hold out against whatever was coming.

How came we ashore?

How did we come ashore?

By Providence divine. Some food we had and some fresh water that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity, who being then appointed Master of this design, did give us, with Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, Which since have steaded much: so, of his gentleness, Knowing I lov’d my books, he furnish’d me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.

By divine Providence. We had some food and some fresh water that a noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, gave us out of his kindness — he was then appointed to manage this plan — along with rich clothes, linens, cloth, and other necessities, which have been a great help since. And so, out of his courtesy, knowing that I loved my books, he supplied me from my own library with volumes I value more than my dukedom.

Would I might But ever see that man!

How I wish I could someday see that man!

Now I arise. Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arriv’d; and here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princes can, that have more time For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

Now I stand up. Sit still, and hear the end of our sorrow at sea. We arrived here on this island; and here I, your schoolmaster, have made you learn more than other royal children do, who have more time for emptier pastimes, and tutors who are not so careful.

Heavens thank you for ’t! And now, I pray you, sir, For still ’tis beating in my mind, your reason For raising this sea-storm?

May heaven thank you for it! And now, please, sir, tell me your reason for raising this sea-storm — it keeps hammering in my mind.

Know thus far forth. By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies Brought to this shore; and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions; Thou art inclin’d to sleep; ’tis a good dulness, And give it way. I know thou canst not choose.

Know this much. By the strangest chance, generous Fortune, who is now my dear mistress, has brought my enemies to this shore; and by my foreknowledge I find that my highest point depends on a most favourable star, and if I don't court its influence now but let it pass, my fortunes will droop forever after. Stop asking questions here; you are getting sleepy; it is a good drowsiness, so give in to it. I know you have no choice.

Come away, servant, come! I am ready now. Approach, my Ariel. Come!

Come here, servant, come! I am ready now. Come close, my Ariel. Come!

All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure; be’t to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl’d clouds, to thy strong bidding task Ariel and all his quality.

All hail, great master! Hail, honoured sir! I come to carry out whatever you please: whether it is to fly, to swim, to dive into fire, to ride on the curling clouds — set Ariel and all his powers to your strong command.

Hast thou, spirit, Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee?

Spirit, have you carried out the storm exactly as I ordered you?

To every article. I boarded the King’s ship; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flam’d amazement; sometime I’d divide, And burn in many places; on the topmast, The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, Then meet and join. Jove’s lightning, the precursors O’ th’ dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And sight-outrunning were not: the fire and cracks Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble, Yea, his dread trident shake.

In every detail. I boarded the King's ship; now on the prow, now in the middle of the ship, on the deck, in every cabin, I blazed out terror. Sometimes I would split myself and burn in several places at once; on the topmast, the yards, and the bowsprit I would flame separately, then come together and join. Jove's lightning, the forerunners of the dreadful thunderclaps, were not more instantaneous or faster than sight: the fire and the crashes of sulphurous roaring seemed to besiege the mighty Neptune himself, and made his bold waves tremble, yes, and his dreaded trident shake.

My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Would not infect his reason?

My splendid spirit! Who was so steady, so unshaken, that this uproar did not unsettle his reason?

Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and play’d Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, Then all afire with me: the King’s son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring—then like reeds, not hair— Was the first man that leapt; cried “Hell is empty, And all the devils are here.”

Not one soul but felt a madman's fever and did some wild, despairing things. Everyone except the sailors plunged into the foaming salt water and abandoned the ship, which was then all on fire with me. The King's son, Ferdinand, with his hair standing straight up — like reeds then, not hair — was the first man to jump, crying "Hell is empty, and all the devils are here."

Why, that’s my spirit! But was not this nigh shore?

Now that's my spirit! But wasn't this near the shore?

Close by, my master.

Very close by, master.

But are they, Ariel, safe?

But are they safe, Ariel?

Not a hair perish’d; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher than before: and, as thou bad’st me, In troops I have dispers’d them ’bout the isle. The King’s son have I landed by himself, Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting, His arms in this sad knot.

Not a hair of them lost; not a mark on the clothes that held them up, but fresher than before. And, as you ordered me, I have scattered them in groups about the island. The King's son I have landed by himself, and I left him cooling the air with his sighs in a strange corner of the island, sitting with his arms folded in this sorrowful knot.

Of the King’s ship The mariners, say how thou hast dispos’d, And all the rest o’ th’ fleet?

Tell me how you have disposed of the sailors from the King's ship, and all the rest of the fleet.

Safely in harbour Is the King’s ship; in the deep nook, where once Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still-vex’d Bermoothes; there she’s hid: The mariners all under hatches stowed; Who, with a charm join’d to their suff’red labour, I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ th’ fleet, Which I dispers’d, they all have met again, And are upon the Mediterranean flote Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the King’s ship wrack’d, And his great person perish.

The King's ship is safely in harbour, in the deep inlet where you once called me up at midnight to fetch dew from the always-stormy Bermoothes; she is hidden there. The sailors are all stowed below the hatches, and with a spell added to the exhaustion they have suffered, I have left them asleep. As for the rest of the fleet, which I scattered, they have all found one another again, and are on the Mediterranean sea, sadly sailing home for Naples, supposing they saw the King's ship wrecked and his great person die.

Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform’d; but there’s more work. What is the time o’ th’ day?

Ariel, your task has been performed exactly; but there is more work. What time of day is it?

Past the mid season.

Past midday.

At least two glasses. The time ’twixt six and now Must by us both be spent most preciously.

Two hours at least. The time between now and six o'clock must be spent very carefully by us both.

Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis’d, Which is not yet perform’d me.

Is there more hard work? Since you give me such labour, let me remind you what you promised me, which you have not yet done for me.

How now! moody? What is’t thou canst demand?

What's this! Sulky? What is it you can possibly ask for?

My liberty.

My freedom.

Before the time be out? No more!

Before your term is up? Say no more!

I prithee, Remember I have done thee worthy service; Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv’d Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise To bate me a full year.

Please, remember that I have given you good service; told you no lies, made no mistakes, served you without any resentment or complaining. You did promise to shorten my time by a whole year.

Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee?

Have you forgotten what a torment I set you free from?

No.

No.

Thou dost, and think’st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep, To run upon the sharp wind of the north, To do me business in the veins o’ th’ earth When it is bak’d with frost.

You have, and you think it a great hardship to walk the mud of the salty deep, to race on the sharp north wind, to do my errands in the earth's veins when it is hardened with frost.

I do not, sir.

I do not, sir.

Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her?

You are lying, spiteful creature! Have you forgotten the foul witch Sycorax, who with age and malice had bent right over into a hoop? Have you forgotten her?

No, sir.

No, sir.

Thou hast. Where was she born? Speak; tell me.

You have. Where was she born? Speak; tell me.

Sir, in Argier.

Sir, in Argier.

O, was she so? I must Once in a month recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget’st. This damn’d witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier, Thou know’st, was banish’d: for one thing she did They would not take her life. Is not this true?

Oh, was she? Once a month I have to go over what you were, because you forget it. This cursed witch Sycorax was banished from Argier, as you know, for her countless crimes and for magic too horrible for human ears. Because of one thing she did they would not put her to death. Isn't that true?

Ay, sir.

Yes, sir.

This blue-ey’d hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by th’ sailors. Thou, my slave, As thou report’st thyself, wast then her servant; And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorr’d commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers, And in her most unmitigable rage, Into a cloven pine; within which rift Imprison’d, thou didst painfully remain A dozen years; within which space she died, And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island— Save for the son that she did litter here, A freckl’d whelp, hag-born—not honour’d with A human shape.

This blue-eyed hag was brought here pregnant, and left here by the sailors. You, my slave, as you tell it yourself, were her servant then; and because you were a spirit too refined to carry out her gross and hateful orders, refusing her great commands, she shut you up, with the help of her more powerful agents, and in her utterly unstoppable fury, inside a split pine tree; imprisoned in that crack, you stayed in pain a dozen years. In that time she died and left you there, where you let out your groans as fast as a mill wheel's paddles strike the water. Then this island — except for the son she whelped here, a freckled brat born of a hag — was not graced with a single human shape.

Yes, Caliban her son.

Yes, Caliban her son.

Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban, Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know’st What torment I did find thee in; thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears: it was a torment To lay upon the damn’d, which Sycorax Could not again undo; it was mine art, When I arriv’d and heard thee, that made gape The pine, and let thee out.

Stupid creature, that is what I am saying; he, that Caliban, whom I now keep as a servant. You know best what torment I found you in; your groans made wolves howl, and pierced the hearts of bears that are always angry. It was a torment fit to be laid on the damned, and Sycorax could not undo it again. It was my magic, when I arrived and heard you, that made the pine gape open and let you out.

I thank thee, master.

I thank you, master.

If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oak And peg thee in his knotty entrails till Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters.

If you complain any more, I will split open an oak and wedge you into its knotty insides until you have howled away twelve winters.

Pardon, master: I will be correspondent to command, And do my spriting gently.

Forgive me, master. I will do as you order, and perform my spirit's work willingly.

Do so; and after two days I will discharge thee.

Do that, and in two days I will release you.

That’s my noble master! What shall I do? Say what? What shall I do?

That's my noble master! What shall I do? Tell me what? What shall I do?

Go make thyself like a nymph o’ th’ sea. Be subject To no sight but thine and mine; invisible To every eyeball else. Go, take this shape, And hither come in ’t. Go, hence with diligence!

Go and make yourself look like a sea nymph. Be visible to no eyes but yours and mine; invisible to every other eye. Go, take this form, and come back here in it. Go, be quick about it!

Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!

Wake up, dear heart, wake up! You have slept well. Wake up!

[Waking.] The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me.

[Waking.] The strangeness of your story made me drowsy.

Shake it off. Come on; We’ll visit Caliban my slave, who never Yields us kind answer.

Shake it off. Come on; we'll go and see Caliban my slave, who never gives us a civil answer.

’Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on.

He is a villain, sir, whom I don't like to look at.

But as ’tis, We cannot miss him: he does make our fire, Fetch in our wood; and serves in offices That profit us. What ho! slave! Caliban! Thou earth, thou! Speak.

But as things stand, we can't do without him: he makes our fire, brings in our wood, and does jobs that are useful to us. Hello there! Slave! Caliban! You lump of earth, you! Speak.

[Within.] There’s wood enough within.

[Offstage.] There's plenty of wood inside.

Come forth, I say; there’s other business for thee. Come, thou tortoise! when?

Come out, I say; there's other work for you. Come, you tortoise! How much longer?

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear.

Beautiful vision! My clever Ariel, listen while I whisper to you.

My lord, it shall be done.

My lord, it shall be done.

Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

You poisonous slave, fathered by the devil himself on your wicked mother, come out!

As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’d With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen Drop on you both! A south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o’er!

May dew as poisonous as any my mother ever brushed with a raven's feather from a disease-ridden marsh fall on you both! May a south-west wind blow on you and cover you with blisters!

For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins Shall forth at vast of night that they may work All exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinch’d As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made them.

For this, be certain, tonight you'll have cramps, stitches in your side that will squeeze your breath shut; goblins will come out in the dead of night to work you over thoroughly. You'll be pinched as full of holes as a honeycomb, each pinch stinging worse than the bees that made them.

I must eat my dinner. This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak’st from me. When thou cam’st first, Thou strok’st me and made much of me; wouldst give me Water with berries in ’t; and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night: and then I lov’d thee, And show’d thee all the qualities o’ th’ isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place, and fertile. Curs’d be I that did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own King; and here you sty me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o’ th’ island.

I must eat my dinner. This island is mine, from Sycorax my mother, and you are taking it from me. When you first came, you stroked me and made a fuss over me; you would give me water with berries in it, and teach me the names of the greater light and the lesser, that burn by day and by night. And then I loved you, and showed you all the features of the island: the fresh springs, the salt pits, the barren ground and the fertile. Curse me for doing it! May all the spells of Sycorax — toads, beetles, bats — land on you! For I am the only subjects you have, I who used to be my own king; and here you pen me in this hard rock while you keep the rest of the island from me.

Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have us’d thee, Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodg’d thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child.

You utter lying slave, who can be moved by whipping but not by kindness! I treated you, filth as you are, with human care, and housed you in my own cell, until you tried to violate my child's honour.

Oh ho! Oh ho! Would ’t had been done! Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans.

Oh ho! Oh ho! I wish it had been done! You forestalled me; otherwise I would have filled this island with Calibans.

Abhorred slave, Which any print of goodness wilt not take, Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow’d thy purposes With words that made them known. But thy vile race, Though thou didst learn, had that in ’t which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Deservedly confin’d into this rock, Who hadst deserv’d more than a prison.

Hateful slave, who will not take any stamp of goodness, capable of every kind of evil! I pitied you, took trouble to make you speak, taught you one thing or another every hour. When you didn't even know your own meaning, savage, but would jabber like the most brutish creature, I gave your intentions words to make them understood. But your vile breed, even though you learned, had something in it that good natures could not bear to be near; and so you were rightly shut up in this rock, when you had deserved worse than a prison.

You taught me language, and my profit on ’t Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you, For learning me your language!

You taught me language, and all I've got out of it is that I know how to curse. May the red plague carry you off for teaching me your language!

Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou ’rt best, To answer other business. Shrug’st thou, malice? If thou neglect’st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I’ll rack thee with old cramps, Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar, That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

Witch's offspring, get out! Fetch us in firewood; and you'd better be quick about it, to be ready for other work. Do you shrug your shoulders, you spiteful thing? If you neglect it, or do what I order unwillingly, I'll torture you with cramps in your joints, fill all your bones with pain, and make you roar so that the beasts will tremble at the noise.

No, pray thee. [Aside.] I must obey. His art is of such power, It would control my dam’s god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him.

No, I beg you. [Aside.] I must obey. His magic has such power that it could master my mother's god, Setebos, and make a servant of him.

So, slave, hence!

Right then, slave, off with you!

Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Curtsied when you have, and kiss’d The wild waves whist. Foot it featly here and there, And sweet sprites bear The burden. Hark, hark! Burden dispersedly. Bow-wow. The watch dogs bark. [Burden dispersedly.] Bow-wow. Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry cock-a-diddle-dow.

Come onto these yellow sands, and then take hands. Once you have curtsied and kissed, the wild waves will be silent. Dance lightly here and there, and let sweet spirits carry the refrain. Listen, listen! Refrain, from here and there: Bow-wow. The watchdogs bark. [Refrain, from here and there.] Bow-wow. Listen, listen! I hear the song of the strutting rooster crying cock-a-doodle-doo.

Where should this music be? i’ th’ air or th’ earth? It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon Some god o’ th’ island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the King my father’s wrack, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it, Or it hath drawn me rather,—but ’tis gone. No, it begins again.

Where can this music be? In the air or in the ground? It has stopped; and surely it attends on some god of the island. As I sat on a bank, weeping once more over the wreck of the King my father, this music crept over the water towards me, calming both the waves' fury and my own grief with its sweet tune. I have followed it from there — or rather it has drawn me — but it's gone. No, it begins again.

[Sings.] Full fathom five thy father lies. Of his bones are coral made. Those are pearls that were his eyes. Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Burden: Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them: ding-dong, bell.

[Sings.] Your father lies a full five fathoms down. His bones have turned to coral. Those are pearls that were his eyes. Nothing about him decays; instead it all suffers a change by the sea into something rich and strange. Sea nymphs ring his funeral bell every hour. Refrain: Ding-dong. Listen! Now I hear them: ding-dong, bell.

The ditty does remember my drown’d father. This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes:—I hear it now above me.

The song is about my drowned father. This is no human matter, nor any sound that belongs to the earth. Now I hear it above me.

The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond.

Lift the fringed curtains of your eyes, and say what you see over there.

What is’t? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form. But ’tis a spirit.

What is it? A spirit? Lord, how it looks around! Believe me, sir, it has a splendid shape. But it is a spirit.

No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest Was in the wrack; and, but he’s something stain’d With grief,—that’s beauty’s canker,—thou mightst call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows And strays about to find ’em.

No, girl; it eats and sleeps and has senses just like ours, just the same. This fine young man you see was in the shipwreck; and if he weren't somewhat marked by grief — which is the blight that ruins beauty — you could call him a handsome person. He has lost his companions and wanders about looking for them.

I might call him A thing divine; for nothing natural I ever saw so noble.

I would call him a divine being; for I never saw anything in nature so noble.

[Aside.] It goes on, I see, As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I’ll free thee Within two days for this.

[Aside.] It's going forward, I see, just as my heart directs it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free you within two days for this.

Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe, my prayer May know if you remain upon this island; And that you will some good instruction give How I may bear me here: my prime request, Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder! If you be maid or no?

Surely this is the goddess these songs wait upon! Grant that my prayer may learn whether you live on this island, and that you will give me some good direction on how I should conduct myself here. My chief request, which I say last, is this: oh, you wonder, are you a girl or not?

No wonder, sir; But certainly a maid.

No wonder, sir; but certainly a girl.

My language! Heavens! I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where ’tis spoken.

My own language! Heavens! I am the highest ranking of all who speak this tongue, if only I were where it is spoken.

How! the best? What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?

What! The highest? What would you be if the King of Naples heard you?

A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me; And that he does I weep: myself am Naples, Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld The King my father wrack’d.

Just one lone man, as I am now, who is amazed to hear you speak of Naples. He does hear me; and I weep because he does: I myself am Naples, I who with these eyes, which have never stopped flowing since, saw the King my father wrecked.

Alack, for mercy!

Oh, have mercy!

Yes, faith, and all his lords, the Duke of Milan, And his brave son being twain.

Yes, truly, and all his lords too, the Duke of Milan and his splendid son among them.

[Aside.] The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could control thee, If now ’twere fit to do’t. At the first sight They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel, I’ll set thee free for this. [To Ferdinand.] A word, good sir. I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.

[Aside.] The Duke of Milan and his still more splendid daughter could contradict you, if this were the right moment for it. At first sight they have exchanged loving looks. Delicate Ariel, I'll set you free for this. [To Ferdinand.] A word, good sir. I am afraid you have misrepresented yourself: a word.

Why speaks my father so ungently? This Is the third man that e’er I saw; the first That e’er I sigh’d for. Pity move my father To be inclin’d my way!

Why does my father speak so harshly? This is the third man I have ever seen, and the first I have ever sighed for. May pity move my father to take my side!

O! if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I’ll make you The Queen of Naples.

Oh! If you are unmarried, and your love is not already given away, I'll make you the Queen of Naples.

Soft, sir; one word more. [Aside.] They are both in either’s powers. But this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light. [To Ferdinand.] One word more. I charge thee That thou attend me. Thou dost here usurp The name thou ow’st not; and hast put thyself Upon this island as a spy, to win it From me, the lord on ’t.

Wait, sir; one more word. [Aside.] They are each in the other's power. But I must make this quick affair difficult, in case too easy a victory makes the prize seem cheap. [To Ferdinand.] One more word. I order you to listen to me. You are taking here a title that isn't yours, and you have landed on this island as a spy, to take it from me, its master.

No, as I am a man.

No, on my honour as a man.

There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with ’t.

Nothing evil can live in such a temple: if the evil spirit has so beautiful a house, good things will fight to live there with it.

[To Ferdinand.] Follow me.— [To Miranda.] Speak not you for him; he’s a traitor. [To Ferdinand.] Come; I’ll manacle thy neck and feet together: Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be The fresh-brook mussels, wither’d roots, and husks Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

[To Ferdinand.] Follow me. — [To Miranda.] Don't speak on his behalf; he's a traitor. [To Ferdinand.] Come; I'll chain your neck and your feet together: you will drink sea water; your food will be freshwater mussels, shrivelled roots, and the cups the acorn was cradled in. Follow.

No; I will resist such entertainment till Mine enemy has more power.

No; I will refuse such treatment until my enemy has more power than I do.

O dear father! Make not too rash a trial of him, for He’s gentle, and not fearful.

Oh, dear father! Don't test him too harshly, for he is noble, and not a coward.

What! I say, My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; Who mak’st a show, but dar’st not strike, thy conscience Is so possess’d with guilt: come from thy ward, For I can here disarm thee with this stick And make thy weapon drop.

What! Am I to be taught by my own foot? Put your sword away, traitor; you make a show of fighting but don't dare to strike, your conscience is so filled with guilt: drop your fighting stance, because I can disarm you here with this stick and make your weapon fall.

Beseech you, father!

I beg you, father!

Hence! Hang not on my garments.

Away! Don't cling to my clothes.

Sir, have pity; I’ll be his surety.

Sir, have pity; I'll stand as his guarantee.

Silence! One word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! An advocate for an impostor? hush! Thou think’st there is no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench! To th’ most of men this is a Caliban, And they to him are angels.

Be quiet! One more word will make me scold you, if not hate you. What! A defender of an impostor? Hush! You think there are no other shapes like his, having seen only him and Caliban: foolish girl! Compared with most men this one is a Caliban, and they next to him are angels.

My affections Are then most humble; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man.

Then my feelings are very modest; I have no wish to see a finer-looking man.

[To Ferdinand.] Come on; obey: Thy nerves are in their infancy again, And have no vigour in them.

[To Ferdinand.] Come on; obey: your muscles are back in their infancy, and have no strength in them.

So they are: My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father’s loss, the weakness which I feel, The wrack of all my friends, nor this man’s threats, To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid: all corners else o’ th’ earth Let liberty make use of; space enough Have I in such a prison.

So they are: my spirits are all tied up, as in a dream. The loss of my father, the weakness I feel, the shipwreck that killed all my friends, and this man's threats, to whom I am beaten down — all these would be light to me, if only once a day, from my prison, I could look at this girl: let liberty make use of every other corner of the earth; I have room enough in such a prison.

[Aside.] It works. [To Ferdinand.] Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To Ferdinand.] Follow me. [To Ariel.] Hark what thou else shalt do me.

[Aside.] It's working. [To Ferdinand.] Come on. You have done well, fine Ariel! [To Ferdinand.] Follow me. [To Ariel.] Listen to what else you must do for me.

Be of comfort; My father’s of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted Which now came from him.

Take comfort; my father is of a kinder nature, sir, than his speech suggests: what has just come from him is unlike him.

Thou shalt be as free As mountain winds; but then exactly do All points of my command.

You will be as free as the mountain winds; but until then carry out every detail of my orders exactly.

To th’ syllable.

To the last syllable.

[To Ferdinand.] Come, follow. Speak not for him.

[To Ferdinand.] Come, follow. [To Miranda.] Don't speak for him.