The Tempest by William Shakespeare (summer reading list TXT) 📖

of that; she was of
Carthage, not of Tunis.

GONZALO.
This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

ADRIAN.
Carthage?

GONZALO.
I assure you, Carthage.

ANTONIO.
His word is more than the miraculous harp.

SEBASTIAN.
He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.

ANTONIO.
What impossible matter will he make easy next?

SEBASTIAN.
I think he will carry this island home in his
pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

ANTONIO.
And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring
forth more islands.

ALONSO.
Ay.

ANTONIO.
Why, in good time.

GONZALO.
[To ALONSO.] Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now
as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of
your daughter, who is now Queen.

ANTONIO.
And the rarest that e'er came there.

SEBASTIAN.
Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

ANTONIO.
O! widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.

GONZALO.
Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I
wore it? I mean, in a sort.

ANTONIO.
That sort was well fish'd for.

GONZALO.
When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?

ALONSO.
You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,
I ne'er again shall see her. O thou, mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan! what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?

FRANCISCO.
Sir, he may live:
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs: he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To th' shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed,
As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt
He came alive to land.

ALONSO.
No, no; he's gone.

SEBASTIAN.
Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,
That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,
But rather lose her to an African;
Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.

ALONSO.
Prithee, peace.

SEBASTIAN.
You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise
By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weigh'd between loathness and obedience at
Which end o' th' beam should bow. We have lost your son,
I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business' making,
Than we bring men to comfort them; the fault's your own.

ALONSO.
So is the dearest of the loss.

GONZALO.
My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness
And time to speak it in; you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.

SEBASTIAN.
Very well.

ANTONIO.
And most chirurgeonly.

GONZALO.
It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.

SEBASTIAN.
Foul weather?

ANTONIO.
Very foul.

GONZALO.
Had I plantation of this isle, my lord, -

ANTONIO.
He'd sow 't with nettle-seed.

SEBASTIAN.
Or docks, or mallows.

GONZALO.
And were the king on't, what would I do?

SEBASTIAN.
'Scape being drunk for want of wine.

GONZALO.
I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;
No occupation; all men idle, all:
And women too, but innocent and pure;
No sovereignty, -

SEBASTIAN.
Yet he would be king on't.

ANTONIO.
The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.

GONZALO.
All things in common nature should produce
Without sweat or endeavour; treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
Of it own kind, all foison, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

SEBASTIAN.
No marrying 'mong his subjects?

ANTONIO.
None, man: all idle; whores and knaves.

GONZALO.
I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.

SEBASTIAN.
Save his Majesty!

ANTONIO.
Long live Gonzalo!

GONZALO.
And, - do you mark me, sir?

ALONSO.
Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.

GONZALO.
I do well believe your highness; and did it to
minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such
sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh
at nothing.

ANTONIO.
'Twas you we laugh'd at.

GONZALO.
Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to
you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

ANTONIO.
What a blow was there given!

SEBASTIAN.
An it had not fallen flat-long.

GONZALO.
You are gentlemen of brave mettle: you would
lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue
in it five weeks without changing.

[Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music]

SEBASTIAN.
We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling.

ANTONIO.
Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

GONZALO.
No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my
discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am
very heavy?

ANTONIO.
Go sleep, and hear us.

[All sleep but ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO]

ALONSO.
What! all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find
They are inclin'd to do so.

SEBASTIAN.
Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.

ANTONIO.
We two, my lord,
Will guard your person while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.

ALONSO.
Thank you. Wondrous heavy!

[ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL.]

SEBASTIAN.
What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

ANTONIO.
It is the quality o' th' climate.

SEBASTIAN.
Why
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.

ANTONIO.
Nor I: my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian? O! what might? - No more: -
And yet methinks I see it in thy face,
What thou should'st be: The occasion speaks thee; and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.

SEBASTIAN.
What! art thou waking?

ANTONIO.
Do you not hear me speak?

SEBASTIAN.
I do: and surely
It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.

ANTONIO.
Noble Sebastian,
Thou let'st thy fortune sleep - die rather: wink'st
Whiles thou art waking.

SEBASTIAN.
Thou dost snore distinctly:
There's meaning in thy snores.

ANTONIO.
I am more serious than my custom; you
Must be so too, if heed me: which to do
Trebles thee o'er.

SEBASTIAN.
Well, I am standing water.

ANTONIO.
I'll teach you how to flow.

SEBASTIAN.
Do so: to ebb,
Hereditary sloth instructs me.

ANTONIO.
O!
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
You more invest it! Ebbing men indeed,
Most often, do so near the bottom run
By their own fear or sloth.

SEBASTIAN.
Prithee, say on:
The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim
A matter from thee, and a birth, indeed
Which throes thee much to yield.

ANTONIO.
Thus, sir:
Although this lord of weak remembrance, this
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuaded, -
For he's a spirit of persuasion, only
Professes to persuade, - the King his son's alive,
'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd
As he that sleeps here swims.

SEBASTIAN.
I have no hope
That he's undrown'd.

ANTONIO.
O! out of that 'no hope'
What great hope have you! No hope that way is
Another way so high a hope, that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
But doubts discovery there. Will you grant with me
That Ferdinand is drown'd?

SEBASTIAN.
He's gone.

ANTONIO.
Then tell me,
Who's the next heir of Naples?

SEBASTIAN.
Claribel.

ANTONIO.
She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells
Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post -
The Man i' th' Moon's too slow - till newborn chins
Be rough and razorable: she that from whom
We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again,
And by that destiny, to perform an act
Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come
In yours and my discharge.

SEBASTIAN.
What stuff is this! - How say you?
'Tis true, my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis;
So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions
There is some space.

ANTONIO.
A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out 'How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples? - Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake.' - Say this were death
That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no worse
Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate
As amply and unnecessarily
As this Gonzalo: I myself could make
A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! What a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?

SEBASTIAN.
Methinks I do.

ANTONIO.
And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?

SEBASTIAN.
I remember
You did supplant your brother Prospero.

ANTONIO.
True.
And look how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before; my brother's servants
Were then my fellows; now they are my men.

SEBASTIAN.
But, for your conscience, -

ANTONIO.
Ay, sir; where lies that? If 'twere a kibe,
'Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not
This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they
And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon,
If he were that which now he's like, that's dead:
Whom I, with this obedient steel, - three inches of it, -
Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk:
They'll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.

SEBASTIAN.
Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent: as thou got'st Milan,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st,
And I the king shall love thee.

ANTONIO. Draw together:
And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.

SEBASTIAN.
O! but one word.

[They converse apart.]

[Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible.]

ARIEL.
My master through his art foresees the danger
That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth -
For else his project dies - to keep thee living.

[Sings in GONZALO'S ear]
While you here do snoring lie,
Open-ey'd Conspiracy
His time doth take.
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware.
Awake! awake!

ANTONIO.
Then let us