Original
Modern English
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 souls within her.
If, by your magic, dear father, you’ve Caused this storm, please calm it down. The sky looks like it’s going to rain down burning tar, But the sea, rising so high it kisses the sky, Puts the fire out. Oh, I’ve suffered Along with those I saw suffering: a fine ship, No doubt with some noble people on board, Smashed to pieces. Oh, their cries hit me Right in the heart. Poor souls, they died. If I had the power of a god, I would’ve Sunk the sea into the earth before Letting it swallow up that good ship And the precious lives on board.
Be collected: No more amazement: tell your piteous heart There’s no harm done.
Calm down: Don’t be so amazed: tell your sad 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’ve done nothing except to care for you, For you, my dear one, you, my daughter, who Don’t know what you are, don’t know Where I come from, nor that I’m actually more important Than Prospero, master of a tiny, poor room, And no better father than yours.
More to know Did never meddle with my thoughts.
I never cared to know Any of this before.
’Tis time I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, And pluck my magic garment from me. So:
It’s time I should tell you more. Give me your hand, And take off my magic cloak. Like this:
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.
Stay there, my magic. Wipe your eyes; be comforted. The horrible sight of the shipwreck, which moved The very core of compassion in you, I’ve carefully arranged with my magic So safely that no soul— No, not even the smallest harm— Happened to anyone on the ship You heard cry out, the one 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’ve often Started to tell me who I am, but stopped And left me to wonder about it, Saying, ’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 time has come; The very moment tells you to listen closely; Pay attention and be alert. Do you remember A time before we came to this cell? I don’t think you do, because you were not Even three years old then.
Certainly, sir, I can.
Yes, sir, I can.
By what? by any other house or person? Of any thing the image tell me that Hath kept with thy remembrance.
How? Was it by any other house or person? Tell me what you remember That has stayed in your mind.
’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’s a long time ago And it feels more like a dream than something real That I can be sure of. Didn’t I have Four or five women once who took care of 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 remember’st aught ere thou camest here, How thou camest here thou mayst.
You did, and more, Miranda. But how is it That you still remember this? What else do you see In the distant past of time? If you remember anything before you came here, How you got here, you can tell me.
But that I do not.
But I don’t remember that.
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 powerful prince.
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 thou his only heir And princess no worse issued.
Your mother was a woman of great virtue, and She told you that you were my daughter; and your father Was the Duke of Milan; and you were his only heir And a princess of equal worth.
O the heavens! What foul play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed was’t we did?
Oh my heavens! What terrible things happened to us, that we ended up here? Or were we blessed that we did?
Both, both, my girl: By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heaved thence, But blessedly holp hither.
Both, both, my girl: We were cast out by treachery, as you said, But we were brought here by a stroke of luck.
O, my heart bleeds To think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to, Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.
Oh, my heart aches To think of the suffering I must have caused you, Which I can barely remember! Please, continue.
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 loved 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 and your uncle, named Antonio-- Please listen to me--that a brother could Be so treacherous!--he whom I loved more than anyone, And to him I entrusted The rule of my state; at that time He was the most powerful ruler, and I, Prospero, the Duke, Was considered the highest in rank, renowned For my education in the liberal arts Without comparison; those were my main focus, So I left the government to my brother And became a stranger to my own realm, Lost in my private studies. Your false uncle-- Are you listening to me?
Sir, most heedfully.
Yes, sir, I am listening closely.
Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, who to advance and who To trash for over-topping, new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed ’em, Or else new form’d ’em; having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts i’ the state To what tune pleased 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 learned how to grant favors, How to refuse them, who to promote and who To punish for surpassing others, he remade The people who were mine, I say, or changed them, Or even formed new ones; having control Over all offices, he turned everyone’s heart in the state To whatever pleased him; now he was The ivy that had hidden my royal tree, And drained the life from it. You’re not paying attention.
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 retired, O’er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother Awaked 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 the outward face of royalty, With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing-- Dost thou hear?
Please listen closely. I, neglecting worldly matters, dedicated Myself to solitude and the improvement of my mind With knowledge that, in a public life, would be Overvalued, my false brother Awakened an evil nature; and my trust, Like a loving parent, led him to commit A betrayal as great as my trust had been; It had no limit, boundless confidence. With this power, Not just from my wealth, but from what my influence could force, He thought that by pretending to be the Duke, And acting out all the symbols of royalty, He was truly the Duke; out of this disguise And by claiming the outward authority, His ambition grew-- Are you listening?
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’ 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.
With no barrier between the role he played And the man he was playing it for, he believed he had to be The absolute Duke of Milan. For me, poor man, my library Was large enough to satisfy me: he thought me now unfit for temporal power, And conspired with the King of Naples To force me out, paying him tribute, offering respect, Submitting his crown to Naples, and lowering The dukedom that was once proud--alas, poor Milan!-- To a dishonorable submission.
O the heavens!
Oh my heavens!
Mark his condition and the event; then tell me If this might be a brother.
Observe his actions and the outcome; 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.
I would be wrong To think anything noble of my uncle: Good wombs have borne bad sons.
Now the condition. The King of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit; Which was, that he, in lieu o’ the 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 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.
Now for the story. The King of Naples, being a long-standing enemy Of mine, listens to my brother’s plea; Which was that he, in exchange for the tribute And honors he wanted, should immediately remove me and my family From the dukedom and give Milan to my brother: whereupon, A treacherous army was raised, and one midnight, They opened the gates of Milan, and, in the dead of night, The ministers for this purpose hurried us away, Me and your crying self.
Alack, for pity! I, not remembering how I cried out then, Will cry it o’er again: it is a hint That wrings mine eyes to’t.
Alas, for pity’s sake! I don’t remember how I cried then, But I would cry it all again: it is a memory That brings tears to my eyes.
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.
Listen a little longer And then I’ll explain what’s happening now Which is the main point of this story, Without which it would make no sense.
Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us?
Why didn’t they Destroy us right then?
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 boat, not rigg’d, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively had 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.
Good question, girl: My story leads to that. They didn’t dare, Because my people loved me so much, nor would they Have marked the event with blood, but instead They tried to make their terrible actions look better. In short, they quickly got us onto a ship, Took us several miles out to sea; where they set up A broken-down boat, not ready for sailing, No ropes, no sails, no mast; even the rats Would have instinctively abandoned it: then they dumped us, To call out to the sea that roared at us, and to sigh To the winds, whose pity, sighing back at us, Only made our suffering worse.
Alack, what trouble Was I then to you!
Oh no, what a burden I must have been to you then!
O, a cherubim 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 burthen groan’d; which raised in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue.
Oh, you were like an angel Who saved me. You smiled. Filled with a strength from heaven, When I was drowning in the sea, weighed down by my troubles, And groaned under the burden, which gave me The strength to keep going, To face whatever might come next.
How came we ashore?
How did we make it to shore?
By Providence divine. Some food we had and some fresh water that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity, 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 loved 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 fresh water that A noble man from Naples, Gonzalo, Out of kindness, and because he was put in charge Of the mission, gave us, along with Fine clothes, linens, and supplies, Which have been very useful. And, out of his kindness, Knowing how much I loved my books, he gave me Some volumes from my library, Which I value more than my dukedom.
Would I might But ever see that man!
I wish I could Have met that man!
Now I arise:
Now I rise:
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arrived; and here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princesses can that have more time For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.
Sit still, and listen to the last part of our sea-trouble. We landed here on this island; and here I, your teacher, have taught you more Than other princesses could learn, who have more time For idle hours and tutors less attentive.
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?
Thank heavens for that! And now, please, sir, For it’s still on my mind, tell me why You caused this storm at sea?
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 inclined to sleep; ’tis a good dulness, And give it way: I know thou canst not choose.
Know this much. By a strange accident, good fortune, Now my dear lady, has brought my enemies To this shore; and with my foresight I see that my success depends on A very lucky star, whose influence If I don’t act on it now, I’ll miss my chance And my fortunes will never improve. So no more questions: You’re falling asleep; it’s a peaceful drowsiness, And you should give into it: I know you can’t help it.
Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. Approach, my Ariel, come.
Come, servant, come. I’m ready now. Come here, 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.
Hello, great master! Serious sir, hello! I’ve come To do what pleases you most; whether it’s flying, Swimming, diving into the fire, or riding On the curling clouds, I’ll do whatever you ask. Ariel and all my abilities are at your service.
Hast thou, spirit, Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Did you, spirit, Do exactly what I told you with the storm?
To every article. I boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flamed amazement: sometime I’ld 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.
I did everything to the letter. I boarded the king’s ship; sometimes on the bow, Sometimes in the middle, on the deck, in every cabin, I created amazement: sometimes I’d split up, And set fire to many places; on the topmast, The yards and bowsprit, I’d make flames appear separately, Then they’d meet and join together. Jove’s lightning, the signals For the terrifying thunder, were not as quick Or visible as my fire and the cracks Of roaring sulfur; even mighty Neptune Seemed to be surrounded by them, making his bold waves tremble, Yes, even his terrible trident shook.
My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Would not infect his reason?
My brave spirit! Who was so steady, so unshakable, that this chaos Didn’t drive him mad?
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 leap’d; cried, ’Hell is empty And all the devils are here.’
Not a single soul Didn’t feel the fever of madness and act In desperation. Everyone except the sailors Dived into the foamy sea and abandoned the ship, Then they were all on fire with me: the king’s son, Ferdinand, His hair standing on end,--more like reeds than hair,-- Was the first to leap; he cried, ‘Hell is empty And all the devils are here.’
Why that’s my spirit! But was not this nigh shore?
That’s my spirit! But wasn’t this near the shore?
Close by, my master.
Very close, my master.
But are they, Ariel, safe?
But are they, Ariel, safe?
Not a hair perish’d; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me, In troops I have dispersed 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 single hair was harmed; Their clothes didn’t even get a mark, But they’re cleaner than before: and, as you ordered me, I’ve scattered them around the island in groups. I’ve left the king’s son alone; I left him sitting in a strange spot on the island, His arms crossed in this sad way.
Of the king’s ship The mariners say how thou hast disposed And all the rest o’ the fleet.
What about the king’s ship? What did the sailors say about what you’ve done And 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 stow’d; Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour, I have left asleep; and for the rest o’ the fleet Which I dispersed, they all have met again And are upon the Mediterranean flote, Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d And his great person perish.
The king’s ship is safely in harbor; In the deep cove, where once You called me up at midnight to gather dew From the troubled Bermudas, there she’s hidden: The sailors are all below deck, Where, with a charm added to their exhausted labor, I’ve left them asleep; and the rest of the fleet That I scattered, they’ve all met up again And are now sailing on the Mediterranean, Sadly heading home to Naples, Thinking they saw the king’s ship wrecked And the king himself drowned.
Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform’d: but there’s more work. What is the time o’ the day?
Ariel, your task Is perfectly done: but there’s still more work. What time is it?
Past the mid season.
It’s past the middle of the day.
At least two glasses. The time ’twixt six and now Must by us both be spent most preciously.
At least two hours have passed. The time between six and now Must be spent wisely by both of us.
Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promised, Which is not yet perform’d me.
Is there more to do? Since you’ve given me work, Let me remind you of what you promised me, Which hasn’t been done yet.
How now? moody? What is’t thou canst demand?
What’s this? You’re in a bad mood? What is it you want from me?
My liberty.
My freedom.
Before the time be out? no more!
Before the time is up? No more!
I prithee, Remember I have done thee worthy service; Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise To bate me a full year.
Please, Remember that I’ve done good service for you; I’ve told you no lies, made no mistakes, served Without complaint or grumbling: you promised To set me free in a year.
Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee?
Have you forgotten How I freed you from torment?
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’ the earth When it is baked with frost.
You have. And you think it’s a lot to wade through The salty ocean, To run through the cold northern wind, To do my errands deep in the earth When it’s frozen with frost.
I do not, sir.
I don’t, 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’re lying, evil thing! Have you forgotten The wicked witch Sycorax, who, because of her age and jealousy, Had turned into a horrible, twisted thing? Have you forgotten her?
No, sir.
No, sir.
Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.
You have. Where was she born? Tell me.
Sir, in Argier.
Sir, in Algiers.
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? I must Remind you every month of what you’ve forgotten, This cursed witch Sycorax, For all her evil deeds and dark magic That was too awful to even be heard by humans, came from Algiers, You know, and was banished: they wouldn’t kill her, But one thing she did. Isn’t that true?
Ay, sir.
Yes, sir.
This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child And here was left by the 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 freckled whelp hag-born--not honour’d with A human shape.
This ugly witch was brought here while pregnant, And the sailors left her here. You, my servant, As you say, were her servant then; And because you were too delicate a spirit To follow her nasty, hateful orders, Refusing her commands, she trapped you, With the help of her more powerful allies, And in her greatest rage, She locked you inside a split tree; you stayed there, Suffering for twelve years; during that time, she died And left you there, where you groaned As loudly as a mill wheel turns. Then this island— Except for the son she gave birth to here, A deformed, monster of a child—was not even Home to a human being.
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 arrived and heard thee, that made gape The pine and let thee out.
Foolish thing, I said that; he, Caliban, Who I now keep as my servant. You know best The agony I saved you from; your cries Made wolves howl and even reached the hearts Of angry bears: it was a torture To leave you in that damned state, which Sycorax Could never undo: it was my magic, When I came and heard you, that split The tree and freed you.
I thank thee, master.
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 again, I’ll tear apart an oak And nail you in its twisted roots until You’ve howled away twelve years.
Pardon, master; I will be correspondent to command And do my spiriting gently.
Sorry, master; I’ll follow your orders And carry out my tasks quietly.
Do so, and after two days I will discharge thee.
Do that, and after two days I’ll free you.
That’s my noble master! What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?
That’s my great master! What should I do? Tell me, what should I do?
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!
Go, make yourself look like a sea nymph: be visible Only to you and me, invisible To everyone else. Go take this form And come back in it: go, hurry up!
Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!
Wake up, my dear, wake up! You’ve slept well; wake up!
The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me.
The weirdness of your story made me Feel heavy inside.
Shake it off. Come on; We’ll visit Caliban my slave, who never Yields us kind answer.
Shake it off. Come on; Let’s go visit Caliban, my slave, who never Gives us a friendly answer.
’Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on.
He’s a villain, sir, I don’t like looking at him.
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 it is, We can’t do without him: he makes our fire, Brings in our wood, and does the tasks That benefit us. What, hey! slave! Caliban! You filthy creature, speak.
[Within] There’s wood enough within.
[Within] 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 slowpoke! When will you come out?
Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear.
Fine vision! My clever Ariel, Listen closely.
My lord it shall be done.
My lord, it will be done.
Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!
You poisonous slave, born by the devil himself From 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!
As evil as the worst dew my mother ever touched With a raven’s feather from a sickly swamp Fall on both of you! A south-west wind blow on you And blister you all over!
For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins Shall, for that 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 ’em.
For this, mark my words, tonight you will get cramps, Side aches that will take away your breath; little monsters Will, for the long night, work their mischief on you; You’ll be pinched As much as a honeycomb, each pinch more painful Than the bees that made it.
I must eat my dinner. This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first, Thou strokedst me and madest 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 loved thee And show’d thee all the qualities o’ the isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile: Cursed 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’ the island.
I have to eat my dinner. This island is mine, from my mother Sycorax, Which you took from me. When you first came here, You stroked me and treated me well, would give me Water with berries in it, and taught me how To name the sun and the moon, That shine by day and night: and then I loved you And showed you all the island’s wonders, The fresh springs, saltwater pits, barren and fertile land: Cursed be I for doing so! All the spells Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, fall on you! Because I am all the subjects you have, Who was once my own king: and here you imprison me On 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 used thee, Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child.
You filthy liar, Who can be moved by punishment, not kindness! I’ve treated you, Filthy as you are, with human care, and kept you In my own cell, until you tried to violate The honor of my daughter.
O ho, O ho! would’t had been done! Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans.
Oh, would that had been done! You stopped me; I would’ve populated 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 confined into this rock, Who hadst deserved more than a prison.
Hated slave, Who refuses to accept any trace of goodness, Capable of nothing but evil! I felt sorry for you, Took care to teach you to speak, spent hours Teaching you one thing after another: when you didn’t understand, savage, Your own meaning, and would just jabber like A most brutish thing, I gave your words meaning To make them understandable. But your vile nature, Though you learned, still had that in it which Good people Could not stand to be near; that’s why you Deserved to be locked in this rock, When you deserved far 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 what I’ve gained from it Is that I now know how to curse. May the red plague take you 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.
Bastard, get out! Bring us some firewood; and be quick about it, you’d better, To take care of other matters. You sneer, do you? If you ignore or do unwillingly What I command, I’ll torture you with old cramps, Fill all your bones with aches, make you scream So loud that animals will tremble at your noise.
No, pray thee.
No, please.
I must obey: his art is of such power, It would control my dam’s god, Setebos, and make a vassal of him.
I must obey: his magic is so powerful, It could control my mother’s god, Setebos, And make a servant of him.
So, slave; hence!
So, slave; go!
ARIEL’S song. Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Courtsied when you have and kiss’d The wild waves whist, Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. Hark, hark!
ARIEL’S song. Come to these yellow sands, And then hold hands: Bow when you have kissed The wild waves hush, Step lightly here and there; And, sweet spirits, carry the burden. Listen, listen!
The watch-dogs bark!
The watch-dogs bark!
Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.
Listen, listen! I hear The crowing of a proud rooster Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo.
Where should this music be? i’ the air or the earth? It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon Some god o’ the island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the king my father’s wreck, 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 should this music be? In the air or on the earth? It stopped: and surely, it’s following Some god of the island. Sitting on a shore, Crying again over the wreck of my father’s ship, This music passed me on the water, Calming both its rage and my sorrow With its sweet sound: then I followed it, Or it pulled me along. But now it’s gone. No, it starts again.
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
Five fathoms deep your father lies; His bones turned into coral; His eyes are now pearls: Nothing of him that fades But transforms in a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs toll his funeral bell
Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell.
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 reminds me of my drowned father. This is no human affair, nor any sound That belongs to the earth. I hear it now above me.
The fringed curtains of thine eye advance And say what thou seest yond.
The fringed curtains of your eyes move aside And tell me 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 noble form. But it’s a spirit.
No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest Was in the wreck; 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 Like we do, just like us. This handsome man you see Was in the wreck; and, if not for the grief That tarnishes beauty, you might call him A fine person: he’s lost his companions And wanders about trying to find them.
I might call him A thing divine, for nothing natural I ever saw so noble.
I could call him A divine being, because I’ve never seen Anyone so noble before.
[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 happening, just as I feel it should, Spirit, noble spirit! I’ll free you In 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, the goddess To whom these winds belong! Please, I beg you, Tell me if you live on this island; And if you will give me some advice On how I should behave here: my main request, The one I finally make, is, O, you’re a wonder! Are you a maid or not?
No wonder, sir; But certainly a maid.
No surprise, sir; But yes, I’m definitely a maid.
My language! heavens! I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where ’tis spoken.
My words! heavens! I speak the best of anyone who speaks this language, If only I were where it’s spoken.
How? the best? What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?
What? The best? 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 wreck’d.
Just a simple person, like I am now, amazed To hear you talk about Naples. He does hear me; And because he does, I cry: I am Naples myself, Who with my own eyes, never since the tide went out, saw The king, my father, shipwrecked.
Alack, for mercy!
Oh no, how tragic!
Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan And his brave son being twain.
Yes, truly, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan And his brave son being two.
[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.
[Aside] The Duke of Milan And his even braver daughter could stop you, If it were right to do so now. At first sight They’ve changed their views. Delicate Ariel, I’ll free you for this.
A word, good sir; I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
A moment, good sir; I fear you’ve wronged yourself somehow: just one 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 inclined my way!
Why is my father speaking so harshly? This Is the third man I’ve ever seen, the first That I’ve ever sighed for: may pity move my father To lean my way!
O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I’ll make you The queen of Naples.
Oh, if you’re a virgin, And your heart hasn’t been given away, I’ll make you The queen of Naples.
Soft, sir! one word more.
Wait, sir! One more word.
They are both in either’s powers; but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light.
They are both in each other’s power; but this quick decision I must make uncomfortable, so that winning too easily Doesn’t make the prize seem worthless.
One word more; I charge thee That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself Upon this island as a spy, to win it From me, the lord on’t.
One more thing; I command you To listen to me: you’re taking a name you don’t deserve; And you’ve placed yourself On this island as a spy, trying to take it From me, its rightful lord.
No, as I am a man.
No, as I am 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 bad can live in such a pure place: If an evil spirit lives in such a beautiful house, Good things will fight to live there too.
Follow me. Speak not you for him; he’s a traitor. Come; I’ll manacle thy neck and feet together: Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be The fresh-brook muscles, wither’d roots and husks Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.
Follow me. Don’t speak for him; he’s a traitor. Come; I’ll bind your neck and feet together: You’ll drink seawater; your food will be Freshwater mussels, withered roots and husks Where the acorn once rested. Follow.
No; I will resist such entertainment till Mine enemy has more power.
No; I’ll resist such treatment until My enemy has more power.
O dear father, Make not too rash a trial of him, for He’s gentle and not fearful.
Oh, dear father, Don’t be too hasty in testing him, because He’s gentle and not afraid.
What? I say, My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; Who makest a show but darest 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? I say, My foot, my teacher? Put away your sword, traitor; You act tough but won’t strike, your conscience Is filled with guilt: step away from your defense, For I can disarm you with this stick And make your weapon fall.
Beseech you, father.
Please, father.
Hence! hang not on my garments.
Go away! Don’t cling to my clothes.
Sir, have pity; I’ll be his surety.
Sir, have mercy; I’ll take responsibility for him.
Silence! one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! An advocate for an imposter! hush! Thou think’st there is no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench! To the most of men this is a Caliban And they to him are angels.
Be quiet! One more word And I’ll scold you, if not hate you. What! An advocate for a liar! Quiet! You think there’s no one like him, Just because you’ve only seen him and Caliban: foolish girl! To most men, this is a Caliban, And they are angels to him.
My affections Are then most humble; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man.
My feelings Are then very humble; I have no desire To see a handsomer man.
Come on; obey: Thy nerves are in their infancy again And have no vigour in them.
Come on; obey: Your strength is like a child’s again And has no power in it.
So they are; My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father’s loss, the weakness which I feel, The wreck 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’ the earth Let liberty make use of; space enough Have I in such a prison.
Yes, they are; My feelings, like in a dream, are all tangled up. The loss of my father, the weakness I feel, The wreck of all my friends, and even this man’s threats, To whom I am under control, seem insignificant to me, If I could just, once a day, see this girl Through my prison: let freedom take the rest of the world; There’s enough room for me in such a prison.
[Aside] It works.
[Aside] It’s working.
Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!
Come on. You’ve done well, good Ariel!
Follow me.
Follow me.
Hark what thou else shalt do me.
Listen to what else I want you to do.
Be of comfort; My father’s of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted Which now came from him.
Don’t worry; My father’s nature is better than he seems, He’s not usually like this in his words. This is strange for him to say.
Thou shalt be free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command.
You’ll be free Like the winds on the mountains: but you must do Exactly as I command.
To the syllable.
To the letter.
Come, follow. Speak not for him.
Come, follow. Don’t speak for him.