Prospero's Books Page #7

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A contract of true love;

be not too late.

be not too late.

be not too late.

be not too late.

I had forgot that foul conspiracy of the beast

Caliban and his confederates against my life;

You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort,

as if you were dismay'd;

be cheerful, sir.

Our revels now are ended.

These our actors, as I foretold you,

were all spirits,

and are melted into air, into thin air;

And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,

the cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,

the solemn temples,

the great globe itself, yea,

all which it inherit, shall dissolve,

and, like this insubstantial pageant faded,

leave not a rack behind.

We are such stuff as dreams are made on;

and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

Spirit,

we must prepare to meet with Caliban.

Pray you, tread softly, that the blind

mole may not Hear a foot fall;

we now are near his cell.

Monster, I do smell all horse-piss at

which my nose is in great indignation.

Be patient, for the prize I'll bring

thee to shall hoodwink this mischance;

therefore speak softly.

All's hush'd as midnight yet.

Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here,

this is the mouth o' th' cell

no noise, and enter. Do that good mischief which

may make this island thine own for ever,

and I, thy Caliban,

for aye thy foot-licker.

Give me thy hand. I do begin

to have bloody thoughts.

O King Stephano! O peer!

O worthy Stephano! Look what

a wardrobe here is for thee!

Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.

What do you mean To dote thus on such luggage? Let 't alone,

And do the murder first. If he awake, From toe

to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches;

Make us strange stuff.

- Be you quiet, monster.

We shall lose our time, and all be turn'd to barnacles,

or to apes with foreheads villainous low.

At this hour lies at my mercy

all mine enemies.

Shortly shall all my labours end,

and thou shalt have the air at freedom;

Now does my project gather to a head;

My charms crack not,

my spirits obey; and time goes

upright with his carriage.

Say, my spirit, how fares

the King and 's followers?

Confin'd together In the same

fashion as you gave in charge;

Just as you left them;

all prisoners, sir,

Your charm...

...so strongly works 'em...

...that if you now beheld them...

...your affections...

...would become tender.

Your charm...

...so strongly works 'em...

...that if you now beheld them...

...your affections...

...would become tender.

Your charm so strongly works 'em...

...that if you now beheld them...

...your affections would become...

... tender.

And mine shall.

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch,

a feeling of their afflictions,

and shall not myself, one of their kind,

that relish all as sharply, passion as they,

be kindlier mov'd than thou art?

Though with their high wrongs

I am struck to th' quick,

yet with my nobler reason 'gainst

my fury do I take part;

the rarer action is in virtue

than in vengeance;

they being penitent,

the sole drift of my purpose...

... doth extend not a frown further.

Ye elves of hills, brooks,

standing lakes, and groves;

And ye that on the sands with printless

foot do chase the ebbing Neptune,

and do fly him when he comes back;

you demi-puppets that by moonshine

do the green sour ringlets make,

whereof the ewe not bites;

and you whose pastime is

to make midnight mushrooms,

that rejoice to hear the solemn curfew;

by whose aid -

weak masters though ye be

I have be-dimm'd the noontide sun,

call'd forth the mutinous winds,

and 'twixt the green sea and

the azur'd vault set roaring war.

To the dread rattling

thunder have I given fire,

and rifted Jove's stout

oak with his own bolt;

the strong-bas'd promontory

have I made shake,

and by the spurs pluck'd

up the pine and cedar.

Graves at my command

Have wak'd their sleepers,

op'd, and let 'em forth,

By my so potent art.

But this rough magic

I here abjure;

and, when I have requir'd Some

heavenly music - which even now I do

To work mine end upon their

senses that This airy charm is for,

I'll break my staff,

Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,

And deeper than did ever

plummet sound I'll drown my books.

The good ship so have swallow'd

A solemn air, and the best

comforter to an unsettled fancy,

cure thy brains, now useless,

boil'd within thy skull!

Those are pearls

that were his eyes;

There stand,

for you are spell-stopp'd.

The charm dissolves apace,

and as the morning steals upon the night,

Melting the darkness,

so their rising senses...

...begin to chase the ignorant fumes

that mantle their clearer reason.

Knowing I lov'd

my BOOKS,

O good Gonzalo,

my true preserver, and a loyal

sir to him thou follow'st!

I will pay thy graces home

both in word and deed.

Most cruelly Didst thou, Alonso,

use me and my daughter;

Thy brother was a furtherer in the act.

Thou art pinch'd for't now, Sebastian.

Flesh and blood, you, brother mine,

that entertain'd ambition,

expell'd remorse and nature, who,

with Sebastian- whose inward pinches

therefore are most strong -

would here have kill'd your king,

I do forgive thee,

unnatural though thou art.

Their understanding begins to swell,

and the approaching tide will

shortly fill the reasonable shore...

...that now lies foul and muddy.

Not one of them That yet looks

on me, or would know me.

Ariel, I will discase me,

and myself present

As I was sometime Milan.

Quickly, spirit...

thou shalt ere long be free.

Where the bee sucks, there suck

In a cowslip's bell I lie;

There I couch when owls do cry.

On the bat's back I do fly

after summer merrily.

Merrily, merrily shall I live now

under the blossom

that hangs on the bough.

Why, that's my dainty Ariel!

I shall miss thee;

But yet thou shalt have freedom.

So, so, so.

To the King's ship,

invisible as thou art;

There shalt thou find the

mariners asleep under the hatches;

the master and the boatswain being awake,

enforce them to this place;

And presently, I prithee.

under the blossom

that hangs on the bough.

Behold, Sir King, The wronged

Duke of Milan, Prospero.

For more assurance that a living

prince does now speak to thee,

I embrace thy body; And to thee and

thy company I bid a hearty welcome.

Whe'er thou be'st he or no,

Or some enchanted trifle to

abuse me, As late I have been,

I not know.

Thy pulse beats, as of flesh and blood;

and, since I saw thee,

th' affliction of my mind amends,

with which, I fear, a madness held me.

This must crave- An if this be at all -

a most strange story.

Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreat

thou pardon me my wrongs.

But how should Prospero

be living and be here?

First, noble friend,

Let me embrace thine age

whose honour cannot Be

measur'd or confin'd.

Whether this be or be not,

I'll not swear.

You do yet taste some

subtleties o' th' isle,

that will not let you

believe things certain.

Welcome, my friends all!

But you, my brace of lords,

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