The Tempest
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About this ebook
The Tempest is a comedy written by William Shakespeare. It is generally dated to 1610-11 and accepted as the last play written solely by him, although some scholars have argued for an earlier dating. While listed as a comedy in its initial publication in the First Folio of 1623, many modern editors have relabelled the play a romance.
William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare is widely regarded as the greatest playwright the world has seen. He produced an astonishing amount of work; 37 plays, 154 sonnets, and 5 poems. He died on 23rd April 1616, aged 52, and was buried in the Holy Trinity Church, Stratford.
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The Tempest - William Shakespeare
The Tempest
William Shakespeare
Booklassic
2015
ISBN 978-963-523-690-9
Act I
SCENE I. On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard.
Enter a Master and a Boatswain
Master
Boatswain!
Boatswain
Here, master: what cheer?
Master
Good, speak to the mariners: fall to't, yarely,
or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.
Exit
Enter Mariners
Boatswain
Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!
yare, 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
ALONSO
Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master?
Play the men.
Boatswain
I pray now, keep below.
ANTONIO
Where is the master, boatswain?
Boatswain
Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your
cabins: you do assist the storm.
GONZALO
Nay, good, be patient.
Boatswain
When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers
for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not.
GONZALO
Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.
Boatswain
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 lived 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
GONZALO
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 hanged, our case is miserable.
Exeunt
Re-enter Boatswain
Boatswain
Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring
her to try with main-course.
A cry within
A plague upon this howling! they are louder than
the weather or our office.
Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO
Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er
and drown? Have you a mind to sink?
SEBASTIAN
A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,
incharitable dog!
Boatswain
Work you then.
ANTONIO
Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker!
We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.
GONZALO
I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were
no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an
unstanched wench.
Boatswain
Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off to
sea again; lay her off.
Enter Mariners wet
Mariners
All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!
Boatswain
What, must our mouths be cold?
GONZALO
The king and prince at prayers! let's assist them,
For our case is as theirs.
SEBASTIAN
I'm out of patience.
ANTONIO
We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:
This wide-chapp'd rascal—would thou mightst lie drowning
The washing of ten tides!
GONZALO
He'll be hang'd yet,
Though every drop of water swear against it
And gape at widest 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!'
ANTONIO
Let's all sink with the king.
SEBASTIAN
Let's take leave of him.
Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN
GONZALO
Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an
acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any
thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain
die a dry death.
Exeunt
SCENE II. The island. Before PROSPERO'S cell.
Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA
MIRANDA
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.
PROSPERO
Be collected:
No more amazement: tell your piteous heart
There's no harm done.
MIRANDA
O, woe the day!
PROSPERO
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.
MIRANDA
More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.
PROSPERO
'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