The Tempest

Page 02

Gonz. I'le warrant him for drowning, though the Ship were no stronger then a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as an vnstanched wench.

Botes. Lay her a hold, a hold, set her two courses off to Sea againe, lay her off.

Enter Mariners wet.

Mari. All lost, to prayers, to prayers, all lost.

Botes. What must our mouths be cold?

Gonz. The King, and Prince, at prayers, let's assist them, for our case is as theirs

Sebas. I'am out of patience

An. We are meerly cheated of our liues by drunkards, This wide-chopt-rascall, would thou mightst lye drowning the washing of ten Tides

Gonz. Hee'l be hang'd yet, Though euery drop of water sweare against it, And gape at widst to glut him.

A confused noyse within.

Mercy on vs. We split, we split, Farewell my wife, and children, Farewell brother: we split, we split, we split

Anth. Let's all sinke with' King

Seb. Let's take leaue of him.


Gonz. Now would I giue a thousand furlongs of Sea, for an Acre of barren ground: Long heath, Browne firrs, any thing; the wills aboue be done, but I would faine dye a dry death.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Prospero and Miranda.

Mira. If by your Art (my deerest father) you haue Put the wild waters in this Rore; alay them: The skye it seemes would powre down stinking pitch, But that the Sea, mounting to th' welkins cheeke, Dashes the fire out. Oh! I haue suffered With those that I saw suffer: A braue vessell (Who had no doubt some noble creature in her) Dash'd all to peeces: O the cry did knocke Against my very heart: poore soules, they perish'd. Had I byn any God of power, I would Haue suncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere It should the good Ship so haue swallow'd, and The fraughting Soules within her

Pros. Be collected, No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart there's no harme done

Mira. O woe, the day

Pros. No harme: I haue done nothing, but in care of thee (Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who Art ignorant of what thou art. naught knowing Of whence I am: nor that I am more better Then Prospero, Master of a full poore cell, And thy no greater Father

Mira. More to know Did neuer medle with my thoughts

Pros. 'Tis time I should informe thee farther: Lend thy hand And plucke my Magick garment from me: So, Lye there my Art: wipe thou thine eyes, haue comfort, The direfull spectacle of the wracke which touch'd The very vertue of compassion in thee: I haue with such prouision in mine Art So safely ordered, that there is no soule No not so much perdition as an hayre Betid to any creature in the vessell Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sinke: Sit downe, For thou must now know farther

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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