Last Strokes of Shakespeare's Pen

Act I, Scene I of The Tempest

William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Tempest.

Vol. 46, pp. 397-410 of The Harvard Classics

Monsters of the earth, weird creatures of the air, magic romance, and shipwreck are mingled by a master hand in his thrilling drama. The fanciful, enchanting "Tempest" is the last work of the great bard of Stratford.

("The Tempest" performed at Queen Elizabeth's court, Nov. 1, 1611.)

Act I

Scene I

[On a ship at sea:] a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard
Enter a Ship-Master and a Boatswain

  Master  BOATSWAIN!

  Boats.  Here, master; what cheer?

  Mast.  Good; speak to the mariners. Fall to ’t, yarely, ¹ or we run ourselves aground. Bestir, bestir.  Exit.

Enter Mariners

  Boats.  Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, ² yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master’s whistle.—Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough!

Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO, and others

  Alon.  Good boatswain, have care. Where’s the master? Play the men.

  Boats.  I pray now, keep below.

  Ant.  Where is the master, boatswain?

  Boats.  Do you not hear him? You mar our labour. Keep your cabins; you do assist the storm.

  Gon.  Nay, good, be patient.

  Boats.  When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers for the name of king? To cabin! silence! trouble us not.

  Gon.  Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

  Boats.  None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more; use your authority. If you cannot, give thanks you have liv’d so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap.—Cheerly, good hearts!—Out of our way, I say.  Exit.

  Gon.  I have great comfort from this fellow. Methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging; make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage. If he be not born to be hang’d, our case is miserable.  Exeunt.

Re-enter Boatswain

  Boats.  Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring her to try ³ wi’ the main-course. A plague  A cry within.

Enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO

upon this howling! They are louder than the weather or our office.—Yet again! What do you here? Shall we give o’er and drown? Have you a mind to sink?

  Seb.  A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!

  Boats.  Work you, then.

  Ant.  Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker! We are less afraid to be drown’d than thou art.

  Gon.  I’ll warrant him for drowning though the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell and as leaky as an unstanched wench.

  Boats.  Lay her a-hold, ⁴ a-hold! Set her two courses ⁵ off to sea again! Lay her off.

Enter Mariners wet

  Mariners.  All lost! To prayers, to prayers! All lost!

  Boats.  What, must our mouths be cold?

  Gon.  The King and Prince at prayers! Let’s assist them, For our case is as theirs.

  Seb.        I’m out of patience.

  Ant.  We are merely ⁶ cheated of our lives by drunkards.

This wide-chapp’d rascal—would thou mightst lie drowning

The washing of ten tides!

  Gon.        He’ll be hang’d yet,

Though every drop of water swear against it

And gape at wid’st to glut him.  A confused noise within.

Mercy on us!

We split, we split! Farewell, my wife and children!

Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we split!

  Ant.  Let’s all sink wi’ the King.

  Seb.  Let’s take leave of him.  Exit.

  Gon.  Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, anything. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death.  Exeunt.

Note 1. Smartly. 

Note 2. Smartly. 

Note 3. Close to the wind. 

Note 4. Bring her close to the wind. 

Note 5. The mainsail and foresail. 

Note 6. Absolutely. 

[The island. Before Prospero’s cell]
Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA

  Mir.  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 the 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 ¹ souls within her.

  Pros.        Be collected;

No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart

There’s no harm done.

  Mir.        O, woe the day!

  Pros.        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.

  Mir.        More to know

Did never meddle with my thoughts.

  Pros.        ’Tis time

I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,

And pluck my magic garment from me. So,  [Lays down his mantle.]

Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.

The direful spectacle of the wreck, 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.

  Mir.        You have often

Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp’d

And left me to a bootless inquisition,

Concluding, “Stay, not yet.”

  Pros.        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.

  Mir.        Certainly, sir, I can.

  Pros.  By what? By any other house or person?

Of anything the image tell me, that

Hath kept with thy remembrance.

  Mir.        ’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?

  Pros.  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 ² of time?

If thou rememb’rest aught ere thou cam’st here,

How thou cam’st here thou may’st.

  Mir.        But that I do not.

  Pros.  Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,

Thy father was the Duke of Milan and

A prince of power.

  Mir.        Sir, are not you my father?

  Pros.  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.

  Mir.        O the heavens!

What foul play had we, that we came from thence?

Or blessed was ’t we did?

  Pros.        Both, both, my girl.

By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heav’d thence,

But blessedly holp hither.

  Mir.        O, my heart bleeds

To think o’ the teen ³ that I have turn’d you to,

Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.

  Pros.  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 ⁴ of my state; as at that time

Through all the signories ⁵ 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?

  Mir.        Sir, most heedfully.

  Pros.  Being once perfected how to grant suits,

How to deny them, who to advance and who

To trash for overtopping, ⁶ 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’ the 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.

  Mir.  O, good sir, I do.

  Pros.        I pray thee, mark me.

I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated

To closeness ⁷ and the bettering of my mind

With that which, but by being so retir’d,

O’er-priz’d all popular rate, ⁸ 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 ⁹ 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, ¹⁰

And executing the outward face of royalty,

With all prerogative, hence his ambition growing—

Dost thou hear?

  Mir.        Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

  Pros.  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 ¹¹ he was for sway—wi’ the 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.

  Mir.        O the heavens!

  Pros.  Mark his condition and the event, then tell me

If this might be a brother.

  Mir.        I should sin

To think but nobly of my grandmother.

Good wombs have borne bad sons.

  Pros.        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’ the premises ¹²

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 the purpose did Antonio open

The gates of Milan; and, i’ the dead of darkness,

The ministers for the purpose hurried thence

Me and thy crying self.

  Mir.        Alack, for pity!

I, not rememb’ring how I cried out then,

Will cry it o’er again. It is a hint ¹³

That wrings mine eyes to ’t.

  Pros.        Hear a little further,

And then I’ll bring thee to the present business

Which now’s upon ’s, without the which this story

Were most impertinent. ¹⁴

  Mir.        Wherefore did they not

That hour destroy us?

  Pros.        Well demanded, wench;

My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not

(So dear the love my people bore me) 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, ¹⁵ not rigg’d,

Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats

Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,

To cry to the sea that roar’d to us, to sigh

To the winds whose pity, sighing back again,

Did us but loving wrong.

  Mir.        Alack, what trouble

Was I then to you!

  Pros.        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 ¹⁶ stomach, to bear up

Against what should ensue.

  Mir.        How came we ashore?

  Pros.  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; ¹⁷ 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.

  Mir.        Would I might

But ever see that man!

  Pros.        Now I arise.  [Puts on his robe.]

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 princess can that have more time

For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

  Mir.  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?

  Pros.        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 ¹⁸ 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.  [MIRANDA sleeps.]

Come away, servant, come; I am ready now.

Approach, my Ariel; come.

Enter ARIEL

  Ari.  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. ¹⁹

  Pros.        Hast thou, spirit,

Perform’d to point ²⁰ the tempest that I bade thee?

  Ari.  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 lightnings, the precursors

O’ the 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.

  Pros.        My brave spirit!

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil ²¹

Would not infect his reason?

  Ari.        Not a soul

But felt a fever of the mad, and play’d

Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners

Plung’d 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 leap’d; cried, “Hell is empty,

And all the devils are here.”

  Pros.        Why, that’s my spirit!

But was not this nigh shore?

  Ari.        Close by, my master.

  Pros.  But are they, Ariel, safe?

  Ari.        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.

  Pros.        Of the King’s ship

The mariners say how thou hast dispos’d,

And all the rest o’ the fleet.

  Ari.        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 stow’d,

Who, with a charm join’d to their suff’red labour,

I have left asleep; and for the rest o’ the fleet,

Which I dispers’d, they all have met again,

And are upon the Mediterranean float ²²

Bound sadly home for Naples,

Supposing that they saw the King’s ship wreck’d

And his great person perish.

  Pros.        Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is perform’d; but there’s more work.

What is the time o’ the day?

  Ari.        Past the mid season.

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

  Ari.  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.

  Pros.        How now? moody?

What is ’t thou canst demand?

  Ari.        My liberty.

  Pros.  Before the time be out? No more!

  Ari.        I prithee,

Remember I have done thee worthy service,

Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv’d

Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou did promise

To bate ²³ me a full year.

  Pros.        Dost thou forget

From what a torment I did free thee?

  Ari.        No.

  Pros.  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’ the earth

When it is bak’d with frost.

  Ari.        I do not, sir.

  Pros.  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?

  Ari.  No, sir.

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

  Ari.  Sir, in Argier. ²⁴

  Pros.        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?

  Ari.  Ay, sir.

  Pros.  This blue-ey’d hag was hither brought with child,

And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,

As thou report’st thyself, was then her servant;

And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate

To act her earthy and abhorr’d commands,

Refusing her grand hests, ²⁵ 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.

  Ari.        Yes, Caliban her son.

  Pros.  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.

  Ari.        I thank thee, master.

  Pros.  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.

  Ari.        Pardon, master;

I will be correspondent ²⁶ to command

And do my spiriting gently.

  Pros.        Do so, and after two days

I will discharge thee.

  Ari.        That’s my noble master!

What shall I do? say what. What shall I do?

  Pros.  Go make thyself like a nymph o’ the 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!  Exit ARIEL.

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

Awake!

  Mir.    The strangeness of your story put

Heaviness in me.

  Pros.        Shake it off. Come on,

We’ll visit Caliban my slave, who never

Yields us kind answer.

  Mir.        ’Tis a villain, sir,

I do not love to look on.

  Pros.        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.

  Cal.        (Within.) There’s wood enough within.

  Pros.  Come forth, I say! there’s other business for thee.

Come, thou tortoise! When?

Note 1. Composing the freight. 

Note 2. Depth. 

Note 3. Trouble. 

Note 4. Management. 

Note 5. Lordships. 

Note 6. To check for excessive ambition. 

Note 7. Seclusion. 

Note 8. Was more valuable than popularity. 

Note 9. Without. 

Note 10. From being deputy. 

Note 11. Thirsty. 

Note 12. In return for the conditions. 

Note 13. Occasion, suggestion. 

Note 14. Not to the purpose. 

Note 15. Old tub, hulk. 

Note 16. Enduring. 

Note 17. Stood in good stead. 

Note 18. The highest point in my fortunes. 

Note 19. Power. 

Note 20. Not to the purpose. 

Note 21. Turmoil. 

Note 22. Sea. 

Note 23. Reduce my service. 

Note 24. Algiers. 

Note 25. Commands. 

Note 26. Responsive.