Mr. William Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies

Creator: William Shakespeare | Date: 1623 | Archive: Folger Shakespeare Library | Identifier: STC 22273 Fo.1 no.09

Title: Mr. William Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies
Creator: William Shakespeare
Date: 1623
Archive: Folger Shakespeare Library
Identifier: STC 22273 Fo.1 no.09

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Collected. Perfect. 1767 No. 9. Measures 12 1/2 in. x 8 in. Mr Toss told me that the largest copy of this Edition that he had seen was 13 1/8 in & it had some rough leaves. he considered 134 to have been the original size of the paper. Wm. Goff. 1856. Mr Grenvilles copy now in the B. M. was in the original binding & measures 127/8 x 8 3/8 369

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1 1

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To the Reader. This Figure, that thou here seest put, It was for gentle Shakespeare cut; Wherein the Grauer had a strife with Nature, to out-doo the life: O, could he but haue drawne his wit As well in brasse, as he hath hit His face; the Print would then surpasse All, that vvas euer vvrit in brasse. But, since he cannot, Reader, looke Not on his Picture, but his Booke. B. I. Mr. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARES COMEDIES, HISTORIES, & TRAGEDIES. Published according to the True Originall Copies. Martin Brosshout Sculptor London. LONDON Printed by Isaac Iaggard, and Ed. Blount. 1623.

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TO THE MOST NOBLE AND INCOMPARABLE PAIRE OF BRETHREN. WILLIAM Earle of Pembroke, &c. Lord Chamberlaine to the Kings most Excellent Maiesty. AND PHILIP Earle of Montgomery, &c. Gentleman of his Maiesties Bed-Chamber. Both Knights of the most Noble Order of the Garter, and our singular good LORDS. Right Honourable, W Hilst we studie to be thankful in our particular, for the many fauors we haue receiued from your L.L. we are falne vpon the ill fortune, to mingle two the most diuerse things that can bee, feare, and rashnesse; rashnesse in the enterprize, and feare of the successe. For, when we valew the places your H.H. sustaine, we cannot but know their dignity greater, then to descend to the reading of these trifles: and, while we name them trifles, we haue depriu'd our selues of the defence of our Dedication. But since your L.L. haue beene pleas'd to thinke these trifles some-thing, heeretofore; and haue prosequuted both them, and their Authour liuing, with so much fauour: we hope, that (they out-liuing him, and he not hauing the fate, common with some, to be exequutor to his owne writings) you will vse the like indulgence toward them, you haue done vnto A2

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The Epistle Dedicatorie. vnto their parent. There is a great difference, whether any Booke choose his Patrones, or finde them: This hath done both. For, so much were your L L. likings of the seuerall parts, when they were acted, as before they were published, the Volume ask'd to be yours. We haue but collected them, and done an office to the dead, to procure his Orphanes, Guardians; without ambition either of selfe-profit, or fame: onely to keepe the memory of so worthy a Friend, & Fellow aliue, as was our SHAKESPEARE, by humble offer of his playes, to your most noble patronage. Wherein, as we haue iustly obserued, no man to come neere your L. L. but with a kind of religious addresse; it hath bin the height of our care, who are the Presenters, to make the present worthy of your H. H. by the perfection. But, there we must also craue our abilities to be considerd, my Lords. We cannot go beyond our owne powers. Country hands reach foorth milke, creame, fruites, or what they haue; and many Nations (we haue heard) that had not gummes & incense, obtained their requests with a leauened Cake. It was no fault to approch their Gods, by what meanes they could: And the most, though meanest, of things are made more precious, when they are dedicated to Temples. In that name therefore, we most humbly consecrate to your H. H. these remaines of your seruant Shakespeare; that what delight is in them, may be euer your L. L. the reputation his, & the faults ours, if any be committed, by a payre so carefull to shew their gratitude both to the liuing, and the dead, as is Your Lordshippes most bounden, Iohn Heminge. Henry Condell. To the great Variety of Readers. From the most able, to him that can but spell: There you are number'd. We had rather you were weighd. Especially, when the fate of all Bookes depends vpon your capacities: and not of your heads alone, but of your purses. Well! It is now publique, & you wil stand for your priuiledges wee know: to read, and censure. Do so, but buy it first. That doth best commend a Booke, the Stationer saies. Then, how odde soeuer your braines be, or your wisedomes, make your licence the same, and spare not. Iudge your sixe-pen'orth, your shillings worth, your fiue shillings worth at a time, or higher, so you rise to the iust rates, and welcome. But, what euer you do, Buy. Censure will not driue a Trade, or make the lacke go. And though you be a Magistrate of wit, and sit on the Stage at Black-Friers, or the Cock-pit, to arraigne Playes dailie, know, these Playes haue had their triall alreadie, and stood out all Appeales; and do now come forth quitted rather by a Decree of Court, then any purchas'd Letters of commendation. It had bene a thing, we confesse, worthie to haue bene wished, that the Author himselfe had liu'd to haue set forth, and ouerseen his owne writings; But since it hath bin ordain'd otherwise, and he by death departed from that right, we pray you do not envie his Friends, the office of their care, and paine, to haue collected & publish'd them; and so to haue publish'd them, as where (before) you were abus'd with diuerse stolne, and surreptitious copies, maimed, and deformed by the frauds and stealthes of iniurious impostors, that expos'd them: euen those, are now offer'd to your view cur'd, and perfect of their limbes; and all the rest, absolute in their numbers, as he conceiued the[m]. Who, as he was a happie imitator of Nature, was a most gentle expresser of it. His mind and hand went together: And what he thought, he vttered with that easinesse, that wee haue scarse receiued from him a blot in his papers. But it is not our prouince, who onely gather his works, and giue them you, to praise him. It is yours that reade him. And there we hope, to your diuers capacities, you will finde enough, both to draw, and hold you: for his wit can no more lie hid, then it could be lost. Reade him, therefore; and againe, and againe: And if then you doe not like him, surely you are in some manifest danger, not to vnderstand him. And so we leaue you to other of his Friends, whom if you need, can bee your guides: if you neede them not, you can leade your selues, and others. And such Readers we wish him. A 3 "Iohn Heminge. Henrie Condell.

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To the memory of my beloued, The AVTHOR MR. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: AND what he hath left vs. O draw no envy (Shakespeare) on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy Booke, and Farne: While I confesse thy writings to be such, As neither Man, nor Muse, can praise too much. 'Tis true, and all mens suffrage. But these wayes Were not the paths I meant vnto thy praise: For seeliest Ignorance on these may light, Which, when it sounds at best, but echo's right; Or blinde Affection, which doth ne're aduance The truth, but gropes, and vrgeth all by chance; Or crafty Malice, might pretend this praise, And thinke to ruine, where it seem'd to raise. These are, as some infamous Band, or whore, Should praise a Matron. What could burt her more? But thou art proofe against them, and indeed Aboue th'ill fortune of them, or the need. I, therefore will begin. Soule of the Age! The applause! delight! the wonder of our Stage! My Shakespeare, rise; I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lye A little further, to make thee a roome: Thou art a Monument, without a tombe, And art alue still, while thy Booke doth liue, And we haue wits to read, and praise to giue. That I not mixe thee so, my braine excuses; I meane with great, but disproportion'd Muses: For, if I thought my iudgement were of yeeres, I should commit thee surely with thy peeres, And tell, how farre thou did'st our Lily out-shine, Or sporting Kid, or Marlowes mighty line. And though thou had'st small Latine, and lesse Greeke, From thence to honour thee, I would not seeke For names, but call forth thund'ring Aeschilus, Euripides, and Sophocles to vs, Paccuuius, Accius, him of Cordoua dead, To life againe, to heare thy Buskin tread, And shake a Stage: Or, when thy Sockes were on, Leane thee alone, for the comparison of

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Of all, that insolent Greece, or haughtie Rome sent forth, or since did from their ashes come. Triumph, my Britaine, thou hast one to showe, To whom all Scenes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time! And all the Muses still were in their prime, When like Apollo he came forth to warme Our eares, or like a Mercury to charme! Nature her selfe was proud of his designes, And ioy'd to weare the dressing of his lines! Which were so richly spun, and wouen so fit, As, since, she will vouchsafe no other Wit. The merry Greeke, tart Aristophanes, Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please; But antiquated, and deserted lye As they were not of Natures family. Yet must I not giue Nature all: Thy Art, My gentle Shakespeare, must enioy a part. For though the Poets matter, Nature be, His Art doth giue the fashion. And, that he, Who casts to write a liuing line, must sweat, (such as thine are) and strike the second heat Vpon the Muses anuile: turne the same, (And himselfe with it) that he thinkes to frame; Or for the lawrell, he may gaine a scorne, For a good Poet's made, as well as borne. And such wert thou. Looke how the fathers face Liues in his issue, euen so, the race Of Shakespeares minde, and manners brightly shines In his well torned, and true filed lines: In each of which, he seemes to shake a Lance, As brandish't at the eyes of ignorance. Sweet Swan of Auon! what a fight it were To see thee in our waters yet appeare, And make those flights vpon the bankes of Thames, That so did take Eliza, and our Iames! But stay, I see thee in the Hemisphere Aduanc'd, and made a Constellation there! Shine forth, thou Starre of Poets, and with rage, Or influence, chide, or cheere the drooping Stage; Which, since thy flight fro[m] hence, hath mourn'd like night, And despares day, but for thy Volumes light. BEN: IONSON. Vpon the Lines and Life of the Famous Scenicke Poet, Master WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. Hose hands, which you so clapt, go now, and wring You Britaines braue; for done are Shakespeares dayes: His dayes are done, that made the dainty Playes, Which made the Globe of heau'n and earth to ring. Dry'de is that veine, dry'd is the Thespian Spring, Turn'd all to teares, and Phæbus clouds his rayes: That corp's, that coffin now besticke those bayes, Which crown'd him Poet first, then Poets King. If Tragedies might any Prologue haue, All those he made, would scarse make one to this: Where Fame, now that he gone is to the graue (Deaths publique tyring-house) the Nuncius is. For though his line of life went soone about, The life yet of his lines shall neuer out. HUGH HOLLAND.

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A CATALOGUE of the seuerall Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies contained in this Volume. COMEDIES. The Tempest. Folio 1. The First part of King Henry the fourth. 46 The two Gentlemen of Verona. 20 The Second part of K. Henry the fourth. 74 The Merry Wiues of Windsor. 38 The Life of King Henry the Fift. 69 Measure for Measure. 61 The First part of King Henry the Sixt. 96 The Comedy of Errours. 85 The Second part of King Hen. the Sixt. 120 Much adoo about Nothing. 101 The Third part of King Henry the Sixt. 147 Loues Labour lost. 122 The Life & Death of Richard the Third. 173 Midsommer Nights Dreame. 145 The Life of King Henry the Eight. 205 TRAGEDIES. The Tragedy of Coriolanus. Fol. 1. The Tragedy of Coriolanus. 31 Titus Andronicus. 31 As you Like it. 185 Romeo and Juliet. 53 The Taming of the Shrew. 208 Timon of Athens. 80 All is well, that Ends well. 230 The Life and death of Julius Caesar. 109 Twelfe=Night, or what you will. 255 The Tragedy of Macbeth. 131 The Winters Tale. 304 The Tragedy of Hamlet. 152 HISTORIES. King Lear. 283 The Life and Death of King John. Fol. 1. Othello, the Moore of Venice. 310 The Life & death of Richard the second. 23 Anthony and Cleopater. 346 1715 Cymbeline King of Britaine. 369

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TO THE MEMORIE of the deceased Authour Maister W. SHAKESPEARE. Hake-speare, at length thy pious fellowes giue The world thy Workes: thy Workes, by which, out-liue Thy Tombe, thy name must when that stone is rent, And Time dissolues thy Stratford Monument, Here we aliue shall view thee still. This Booke, When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke Fresh to all Ages: when Posteritie Shall loath what's new, thinke all is prodegie That is not Shake-speares; eu'ry Line, each Verse Here shall reuiue, redeeme thee from thy Herse. Nor Fire, nor cankring Age, as Naso said, Of his, thy wit=fraught Booke shall once inuade. Nor shall I e're beleeue, or thinke thee dead (Though mist)-vntill our bankront Stage be sped (Impossible) with some new straine t'out-do Passions of Iuliet, and her Romeo; Or till I heare a Scene more nobly take, Then when thy half-Sword parlying Romans spake. Till these, till any of thy Volumes rest Shall with more fire, more feeling be exprest, Be sure, our Shake-speare, thou canst neuer dye, But crown'd with Lawrell, liue eternally. L. Digges. To the memorie of M.W.Shake-speare. Wee wondred (Shake-speare) that thou went'st so soone From the Worlds=Stage, to the Graues-Tyring-roome. Wee thought thee dead, but this thy printed worth, Tels thy Spectators, that thou went'st but forth To enter with applause. An Actors Art, Can dye, and liue, to acte a second part. That's but an Exit of Mortalitie; This, a Re-entrance to a Plaudite. I. M. Iohn Milton

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The Workes of William Shakespeare, containing all his Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies: Truely set forth, according to their first ORIGINALL. The Names of the Principall Actors in all these Playes. William Shakespeare. Samuel Gilburne. Richard Burbadge. Robert Armin. John Hemmings. William Ostler. Augustine Phillips. Nathan Field. William Kempt. John Underwood. Thomas Poope. Nicholas Tooley. George Bryan. William Ecclestone. Henry Condell. Joseph Taylor. William Slye. Robert Benfield. Richard Cowly. Robert Goughe. John Lowine. Richard Robinson. Samuell Crosse. Iohn Shancke. Alexander Cooke. Iohn Rice.

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THE TEMPEST. Actus primus, Scena prima. A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: Enter a Ship-master, and a Boteswaine. Master. Ote-swaine. Botes. Heere Master: What cheere? Master. Good: Speake to th' Mariners: fall too't, yarely, or we run our selues a ground, bestirre, bestirre. Enter Mariners. Botes. Heigh my hearts, cheerely, cheerely my harts: yare, yare: Take in the toppe-sale: Tend to th' Masters whistle: Blow till thou burst thy winde, if roome enough. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando, Gonzalo, and others. Alon. Good Boteswaine haue care: where's the Master? Play the men. Botes. I pray now keepe below. Amb. Where is the Master, Boson? Botes. Do you not heare him? you marre our labour, Keepe your Cabines: you do assist the storme. Gonz. Nay, good be parient. Botes. When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roarers for the name of King? to Cabine; silence: trouble vs not. Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard. Botes. None that I more loue then my selfe. You are a Counsellor, if you can command these Elements to silence, and worke the peace of the present, wee will not hand a rope more, vse your authoritie: If you cannot, giue thankes you haue liu'd so long, and make your selfe readie in your Cabine for the mischance of the houre, if it so hap. Cheerely good hearts: out of our way I say. Gon. I haue great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning marke vpon him, his complexion is perfect Gallowes: stand fast good Fate to his hanging, make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our owne doth little aduantage: If he be not borne to bee hang'd, our case is miserable. Enter Boteswaine. Botes. Downe with the top-Mast: yare, lower, lower, bring her to Try with Maine-course. A plague A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo. vpon this howling: they are lowder then the weather, or our office: yet againe? What do you heere? Shal we giue ore and drowne, haue you a minde to sinke? Sebas. A poxe o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous incharitable Dog. Botes. Worke you then. Amb. Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noyse-maker, we are lesse afraid to be drownde, then thou art. Gonz. I'le warrant him for drowning, though the Ship were no stronger then a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as an unstanched wench. Botes. Lay her a hold, a hold, set her two courses off to Sea againe, lay her off. Enter Mariners wer. 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. Amb. Let's all sinke with' King Seb. Let's take leaue of him. Exit. 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. Exit. Scena Secunda. Enter Prospero and Miranda. Mira. If by your Art (my dearest 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 A (Who

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The Tempest. (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. Prof. Be collected, No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart there's no harme done. Mira. O woe, the day. Prof. 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. Prof. '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 Betid to any creature in the vessell Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sinke: Sit For thou must now know farther. Mira. You haue often Begun to tell me what I am, but sto't And left me to a bootelesse Inquisition, Concluding, stay not yet. Prof. The howr's now come The very minute byds thee ope thine eare, Obey, and be attentiue. Canst thou remember A time before we came vnto this Cell? I doe not thinke thou canst, for then thou was't not Out three yeeres old. Mira. Certainly Sir, I can. Prof. By what? by any other house, or person? Of any thing the Image, tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance. Mira. 'Tis farre off: And rather like a dreame, then an assurance That my remembrance warrants: Had I not Fowre, or fiue women once, that tended me? Prof. Thou hadst; and more Miranda: But how is it That this liues in thy minde? What seest thou els In the dark-backward and Abisme of Time? Yf thou remembrest ought ere thou cam'st here, How thou cam'st here thou maist. Mira. But that I doe not. Prof. Twelue yere since (Miranda) twelue yere since, Thy Prince was the Duke of Millaine and A Prince of power. Mira. Sir, are not you my Father? Prof. Thy Mother was a peece of vertue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Millaine, and his onely heire, And Princesse; no worse Issued. Mira. O the heauens, What fowle play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed was't we did? Prof. Both, both my Girle, By fowle-play (as thou saist) were we heau'd thence, But blessedly holpe hither. Mira. O my heart bleedes To thinke oth' teene that I haue turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance, please you, farther; Prof. My brother and thy vncle, call'd Anthonio: I pray thee marke me, that a brother should Be so perfidious: he, whom next thy selfe Of all the world I lou'd, and to him put The mannage 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 liberall Artes, Without a paralell; those being all my studie, The Gouernment I cast vpon my brother, And to my State grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies, thy false vncle (Do'st thou attend me?) Mira. Sir, most heedefully. Prof. Being once perfected how to graunt suites, how to deny them: who t'aduance, and who To trash for ouer-topping; new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em, Or els new form'd 'em; hauing both the key, Of Officer, and office, set all hearts i'th state To what tune pleas'd his care, that now he was The Iuy which had hid my princely Trunck, And suckt my verdure out on't: Thou attend'st not? Mira. O good Sir, I doe. Prof. I pray thee marke me: I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closenes, and the bettering of my mind with that, which but by being so retir'd Ore-priz'd all popular rate in my false brother A wak'd an euill nature, and my trust Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood in it's contrarie, as great As my trust was, which had indeede no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus Loreded, Not onely with what my reuencw yeelded, But what my power might els exact. Like one Who hauing into truth, by telling of it, Made such a synner of his memorie To credite his owne lie, he did beleeue He was indeed the Duke, out o'th' Substitution And executing th' outward face of Roialtie With all prerogatiue: hence his Ambition growing: Do'st thou heare? Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafenesse. Prof. To haueno Schreene between this part he plaid, And him he plaid it for, he needes will be Absolute Millaine, Me (poore man) my Librarie Was Dukedome large enough: of temporall roalties He thinks me now incapable. Confederates (To drie he was for Sway) with King of Naples To giue him Annuall tribute, doe him homage Subiect his Coronet, to his Crowne and bend The Dukedom yet vnbow'd (alas poore Millaine) To most ignoble stooping. Mira. Oh the heauens: Prof. Marke his condition, and th'euent, then tell me If this might be a brother. Mira. I should sinne To thinke but Noblie of my Grand-mother, Good The Tempest. 43 Good wombes haue borne bad sonnes. Pro. Now the Condition. This King of Naples being an Enemy To me inueterate, hearkens my Brothers suit, Which was, That he in lieu o'th' premis, Of homage, and I know not how much Tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the Dukedome, and confer faire Millaine With all the Honors, on my brother: Whereon A treacherous Armie leuied, one mid-night Fated to th' purpose, did Anthonio open The gates of Millaine, and irth' dead of darkenesse The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying selfe. Mir. Alack, for pitty: I not remembring how I cride out then Will cry it ore againe: it is a hint That wrings mine eyes too't. Pro. Heare a little further, And then I'le bring thee to the present businesse Which now's vpon's: without the which, this Story Were most impertinent. Mir. Wherefore did they not That howre destroy vs? Pro. Well demanded, wench: My Tale prouokes that question: Deare, they durst not, So deare the loue my people bore me: nor set A marke so bloudy on the businesse; but With colours fairer, painted their foule ends. In few, they hurried vs a-boord a Barke, Bore vs some Leagues to Sea, where they prepared A rotten carkasse of a Butt, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sayle, nor mast, the very rats Instinctiuely haue quit it: There they hoyst vs To cry to th' Sea, that roard to vs; to sigh To th' windes, whose pitty sighing backe againe Did vs but louing wrong. Mir. Alack, what trouble Was I then to you? Pro. O, a Cherubin Thou was't that did preserue me; Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from heauen, When I haue deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Vnder my burthen groan'd, which rais'd in me An vndergoing stomacke, to beare vp Against what should ensue. Mir. How came we a shore? Pro. By prouidence diuine, Some food, we had, and some fresh water, that A noble Neopolitan Gonzalo Out of his Charity, (who being then appointed Master of this designe) did giue vs, with Rich garments, linnens, stuffs, and necessaries Which since haue fleeced much, so of his gentlenesse Knowing I lou'd my bookes, he furnished me From mine owne Library, with volumes, that I prize aboue my Dukedome. Mir. Would I might But euer see that man. Pro. Now I arise, Sit still, and heare the last of our sea-sorrow! Heere in this Iland we arriu'd, and heere Haue I, thy Schoolemaster, made thee more profit Then other Princesse can, that haue more time For vainer howres; and Tutors, not so carefull. Mir. Heuens thank you for't. And now I pray you Sir, For still 'tis beating in my minde; your reason For raysing this Sea-storme? Pro. Know thus far forth, By accident most strange, bountifull Fortune (Now my deere Lady) hath mine enemies Brought to this shore: And by my prescience I finde my Zenith doth depend vpon A most auspicious starre, whose influence If now I court not, but omit; my fortunes Will euer after droope: Heare cease more questions, Thou art inclinde to sleepe: 'tis a good dulnesse, And giue it way: I know thou canst not chuse: Come away, Seruant, come; I am ready now, Approach my Ariel. Come. Ari. All haie, great Master, graue Sir, haile: I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, To swim, to diue into the fire: to ride On the curld clowds: to thy strong bidding, taske Ariel, and all his Qualitie. Pro. Hast thou, Spirit, Performed to point, the Tempest that I bad thee. Ar. To euery Article. I boorded the Kings ship: now on the Beake, Now in the Waste, the Decke, in euery Cabyn, I flam'd amazement, sometime I'd diuide And burne in many places; on the Top-mast, The Yards and Bore-spritt, would I flame distinctly, Then meete, and ioyne. Loves Lightning, the precursers O'th dreadfull Thunder-claps more momentarie And fight out-running were not; the fire, and cracks Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune Seeme to besiege, and make his bold waues tremble, Yea, his dread Trident shake. Pro. My braue Spirit, Who was so firme, so constant, that this coyle Would not infect his reason? Ar. Not a soule But felt a Feauer of the madde, and plaid Some tricks of desperation; all but Mariners Plung'd in the foaming bryne, and quit the vessell; Then all a fire with me the Kings sonne Ferdinand With haire vp-staring (then like reeds, not haire) Was the first man that leapt; cride hell is empty, And all the Diuels are heere. Pro. Why that's my spirit: But was not this nye shore? Ar. Close by, my Master. Pro. But are they (Ariell) safe? Ar. Not a haire perished: On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher then before: and as thou badst me, In troops I haue dispersd them 'bout the Isle: The Kings sonne haue I landed by himselfe, Whom I left cooling of the Ayre with sighes, In an odde Angle of the Isle, and sitting His armes in this sad knot. Pro. Of the Kings ship, The Marriners, say how thou hast disposd, And all the rest o'th' Fleet? Ar. Safely in harbour Is the Kings shippe, in the deepe Nooke, where once Thou calldst me vp at midnight to fetch dewe From the still-vext Bermoothes, there she's hid; The Marriners all vnder hatches stowed, Who, with a Charme ioynd to their suffred labour I haue left asleep: and for the rest o'th' Fleet A2 Which

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4 The Tempest. (Which I dispers'd) they all haue met againe, And are vpon the Mediterranean Flote Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw Kings ship wrackt, And his great person perish. Pro. Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform'd; but there's more worke: What is the time o'th' day? Ar. Past the mid season. Pro. At least two Glasses: the time twixt six & now Must by vs both be spent most preciously. Ar. Is there more toyle? Since [tha]t dost giue me pains, Let me remember shee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me. Pro. Before the time be out? no more: Ar. I prethee, Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice, Told thee no lyes, made thee no mistakings, serv'd Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promise To bate me a full yeere. Pro. Do'st thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? Ar. No. Pro. Thou do'st: & think'st it much to tread [th]e Ooze Of the salt deepe; To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North, To doe me businesse in the veines o'th' earth When it is bak'd with frost. Ar. I doe not Sir. Pro. Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot The fowle Witch Sycorax, who with Age and Enuy Was growne into a hoope? hast thou forgot her? Ar. No Sir. Pro. Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me: Ar. Sir, in Argier. Pro. Oh, was she so: I must Once in a moneth recount what thou hast bin, Which thou forgetst. This damn'd Witch Sycorax For mischiefes manifold, and forcreties terrible To enter humane hearing, from Argier Thou know'st was banish'd: for one thing she did They wold not take her life: Is not this true? Ar. I, Sir. Pro. This was left by th' Saylor's; thou my slaue, (child, As thou report'st thy selfe, was then her seruant, And for thou wast a Spirit too delicate To act her earthly, and abhord commands, Refusing her grand hefts, she did confine thee By helpe of her more potent Ministers, And in her most vnmittigable rage, Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift Imprison'd, thou didst painefully remaine A dozen yeeres: within which space she did, And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanes As fast as Mill-wheele strike: Then was this Island (Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere, A frickelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd with A humane shape. Ar. Yes: Caliban her sonne. Pro. Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban Whom now I keepe in seruice, thou best know'st What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breasts Of euer-angry Beares; it was a torment To lay vpon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not againe vndoe: it was mine Art, When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gape The Pyne, and let thee out. Ar. I thanke thee Master. Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an Oake And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till Thou hast howl'd away twelue winters. Ar. Pardon, Master, I will be correspondent to command And doe my spryting, gently. Pro. Doe so: and after two daies I will discharge thee. Ar. That's my noble Master: What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe? Pro. Goe make thy selfe like a Nymph o'th' Sea, Be subiect to no sight but thine, and mine: inuisible To euery eye-ball else: goe take this shape And hither come in't: goe: hence With diligence. Exit. Pro. Awake, deere hart awake, thou hast slept well, Awake. Mir. The strangenes of your story, put Heauinesse in me. Pro. Shake it off: Come on, Wee'll visit Caliban, my slaue, who neuer Yeelds vs kinde answere. Mir. 'Tis a villaine Sir, I doe not loue to looke on. Pro. But as 'tis We cannot misse him: he do's make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serues in Offices That profit vs: What hoa: slaue: Caliban: Thou Earth, thou: speake. Cal. within. There's wood enough within. Pro. Come forth I say, there's other busines for thee: Come thou Tortoys, when? Enter Ariel like a water-Nymph. Fine apparision: my queint Ariel, Hearke in thine care. Ar. My Lord, it shall be done. Exit. Pro. Thou poysonous slaue, got by [th]e diuell himselfe Vpon thy wicked Dam; come forth. Enter Caliban. Cal. As wicked dewe, as ere my mother brush'd With Rauens feather from vnwholesome Fen Drop on you both: A Southwest blow on yee, And blister you all ore. Pro. For this be sure, to night thou shalt haue cramps, Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath vp, Vrchins Shall for that vast of night, that they may worke All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd As thicke as hony-combe, each pinch more stinging Then Bees that made 'em. Cal. I must eat my dinner: This Island's mine by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me: when thou cam'st first Thou stroakst me, & made much of me: wouldst giue me Water with berries in't: and teach me how To name the bigger Light, and how the lesse That burne by day, and night: and then I lou'd thee And shew'd thee all the qualities o'th' Isle, The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertill, Curs'd be I that did so: All the Charmes Of Sycorax: Toades, Beetles, Batts light on you: For I am all the Subiects that thou haue, Which first was min owne King: and here you fly-me In this hard Rocke, whiles you doe keepe from me The rest o'th' Island. Pro. Thou 5 The Tempest. That the earth owes: I heare it now aboue me. Pro. The fringed Curtains of thine eye aduance, And say what thou see'st yond. Mir. What is't a Spirit? Lord, how it lookes about: Beleeue me sir, It carries a braue forme. But 'tis a spirit. Pro. No wench, it eats, and sleeps, & hath such senses As we haue: such. This Gallant which thou seest Was in the wracke: and but hee's something stain'd With greefe (that's beauties canker) [tha]t might'st call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellowes, And strayes about to finde 'em. Mir. I might call him A thing diuine, for nothing naturall I euer saw so Noble. Pro. It goes on I see As my soule prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, He free thee Within two dayes for this. Fer. Most sure the Goddesse On whom these ayres attend: Vouchsafe my pray'r May know if you remaine vpon this Island, And that you will some good instruction giue How I may beare me heere: my prime request (Which I do last pronounce) is (O you wonder) If you be Mayd, or no? Mir. No wonder Sir, But certainly a Mayd. Fer. My Language? Heauens: I am the best of them that speake this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken. Pro. How's the best? What wer't thou if the King of Naples heard thee? Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To heare thee speake of Naples: he do's heare me, And that he do's, I weep: my selfe am Naples, Who, with mine eyes (neuer since at ebbe) beheld The King my Father wrack't. Mir. Alacke, for mercy. Fer. Yes faith, & all his Lords, the Duke of Millaine And his braue sonne, being twaine. Pro. The Duke of Millaine And his more brauer daughter, could controll thee If now 'twere fit to do't: At the first sight They haue chang'd eyes: Delicate Ariel, Ile set thee free for this. Fer. Why speakes my father so vngently? This Is the third man that ere I saw, the first That ere I sigh'd for: pitty moue my father To be enchin'd my way. Fer. O, if a Virgin, And your affection not gone forth, Ile make you The Queene of Naples. Pro. Soft sir, one word more. They are both in eythers pow'rs: But this swift busines I must vnneasie make, least too light winning. Make the prize light: One word more: I charge thee That thou attend me: Thou do'st heere vsurpe The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thy selfe Vpon this Island, as a spy, to win it From me, the Lord on't. Fer. No, as I am a man. Mir. Ther's nothing ill, can dwell in such a Temple, If the ill-spirit haue so fayre a house. Good things will strue to dwell with't. Pro. Follow me. A,3 Pro.

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6 The Tempest. Prof. Speake not you for him: hee's a Traitor: come, Ile manacle thy necke and feete together: Sea water shalt thou drinke: thy food shall be The fresh-brooke Mussels, wither'd roots, and huskes Wherein the Acorne cradled. Follow. For. No, I will resist such entertainment, till Mine enemy ha's more pow'r. He drawes, and is charmed from mouing. Mira. O deere Father, Make not too rash a triall of him, for Hee's gentle, and not fearfull. Prof. What I say, My foote my Tutor? Put thy sword vp Traitor, Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike: thy conscience Is so possest with guilt: Come, from thy ward, For I can heere disarm thee with this sticke, And make thy weapon drop. Mira. Beseech you Father. Prof. Hence: hang not on my garments. Mira. Sir haue pity, Ile be his surety. Prof. Silence: One word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What, An advocate for an Impostor? Hush: Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, (Hauing seene but him and Caliban:) Foolish wench, To th'most of men, this is a Caliban, And they to him are Angels. Mira. My affections. Are then most humble: I haue no ambition To see a goodlier man. Prof. Come on, obey: Thy Nerues are in their infancy againe. And haue no vigour in them. For. So they are: My spirits, as in a dreame, are all bound vp: My Fathers losse, the weaknesse which I feele, The wraske of all my friends, nor this mans threats, To whom I am subdude, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this Mayd: all corners elle o'th'Earth Let liberty make vse of: space enough Haue I in such a prison. Prof. It workes: Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariell: follow me, Harke what thou else shalt do mee. Mira. Be of comfort, My Fathers of a better nature (Sir) Then he appeares by speech: this is vnwonted Which now came from him. Prof. Thou shalt be as free As mountaine windes; but then exactly do All points of my command. Ariell. To th'syllable. Prof. Come follow: speake not for him. Exeunt. Actus Secundus. Scena Prima. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others. Gonz. Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue naile, (So haue we all) of ioy; for our escape. Is much beyond our losse; our hint of woe Is common, euery day, some Saylor's wife, The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant Haue iust our Theame of woe: But for the miracle, (I meane our preseruation) few in millions Can speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weigh Our sorrow, with our comfort. Alons. Prethee peace. Seb. He receiues comfort like cold porredge. Ant. The Visitor will not giue him ore so. Seb. Looke, hee's winding vp the watch of his wit, By and by it will strike. Gon. Sir. Seb. One; Tell. Gon. When euery greefe is entertaind, That's offer'd comes to th'entertainer. Seb. A dollor. Gon. Dolour comes to him indeed, you haue spoken truer then you purpos'd. Seb. You haue taken it wiselier then I meant you should. Gon. Therefore my Lord. Ant. Fie, what a spend-thirst is he of his tongue. Alon. I pre-thee spare. Gon. Well, I haue done: But yet Seb. He will be talking. Ant. Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager, First begins to crow? Seb. The old Cocke. Ant. The Cockrell. Seb. Done: The wager? Ant. A Laughter. Seb. A match. Adr. Though this Island seeme to be desert. Seb. Ha, ha, ha. Ant. So: you'r paid. Adr. Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible. Seb. Yet Adr. Yet Ant. He could not misse't. Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance. Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. I, and a subtle, as he most learnedly deliuer'd. Adr. The ayre breathes vpon vs here most sweetly. Seb. As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones. Ant. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a Fen. Gon. Heere is euery thing aduantageous to life. Ant. True, saue meanes to liue. Seb. Of that there's none, or little. Gon. How lush and lusty the grasse lookes? How greene? Ant. The ground indeed is rawny. Seb. With an eye of greene in't. Ant. He misses not much. Seb. No: he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit. Seb. As many voucht rarieties are. Gon. That our Garments being (as they were) drencht in the Sea, hold notwithstanding their freshnesse and glosses, being rather new dy'd then stain'd with salte water. Ant. If but one of his pockets could speake, would it not lay he lyes? Seb. I, or very falsely pocket vp his report. Gon. The Tempest. 7 Gon. Me thinkes our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Affricke, at the marriage of the kings faire daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis. Seb. I was a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our returne. Adri. Tunis was neuer grac'd before with such a Paragon to their Queene. Gon. Not since widdow Dido's time. Ant. Widow? A pox o'that: how caine that Widdow in? Widdow Dido! Seb. What if he had said Widdower Aenas too? Good Lord, how you take it? Adri. Widdow Dido said you? You make me study of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis Sir was Carthage. Adri. Carthage? Gon. I assure you Carthage. Ant. His word is more then the miraculous Harpe. Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too. Ant. What impossible matter wil he make easy next? Seb. I thinke hee will carry this Island home in his pocket, and giue it his sonne for an Apple. Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bring forth more Islands. Gon. I. Ant. Why in good time. Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seeme now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now Queene. Ant. And the rarest that ere came there. Seb. Bate (I beseech you) widdow Dido. Ant. O Widdow Dido? I, Widdow Dido. Gon. Is not Sir my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I meane in a sort. Ant. That sort was well fish'd for. Gon. When I wore it at your daughters marriage. Alon. You cram these words into mine eares, against the stomacke of my sense: would I had neuer Married my daughter there: For comming thence My sonne is lost, and (in my rate) she too, Who is so farre from Italy remoued, Ine're againe shall see her: O thou mine heire Of Naples and of Millaine, what strange fish Hath made his meale on thee? Fran. Sir he may liue, I saw him beate the surges vnder him, And ride vpon their backes; he trod the water Whose enmity he flung aside: and brested The surge most swolne that met him: his bold head 'Boue the contentious waues he kept, and oared Himselfe with his good armes in lusty stroke To th'shore; that ore his waue-worne basis bowed As stooping to releeue him: I not doubt He came aliue to Land. Alon. No, no, hee's gone. Seb. Sir you may thank your selfe for this great losse, That would not blesse our Europe with your daughter, But rather loose her to an Africane, Where she at least, is banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the greefe on't. Alon. Pre-thee peace. Seb. You were kneel'd too, & importun'd otherwise By all of vs: and the faire soule her selfe. Waigh'd betweene loathnesse, and obedience, at Which end o'th'beame should bow: we haue lost your I feare for euer: Millaine and Naples haue (fon, Mo widdowes in them of this businesse making, Then we bring men to comfort them. The faults your owne. Alon. So is the deer's oth'losse. Gon. My Lord Sebastian, The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse, And time to speake it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaister. Seb. Very well. Ant. And most Chirurgeonly. Gon. It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir, When you are cloudy. Seb. Powle weather? Ant. Very foule. Gon. Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord. Ant. Hee'd sow't vwith Nettle-seed. Seb. Or dockes, or Mallowes. Gon. And were the King on't, what would I do? Seb. Scape being drunke, for want of Wine. Gon. I'th'Commonwealth I would (by contraries) Execute all things: For no kinde of Trafficke Would I admit: No name of Magistrate: Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty, And vse of seruice, none: Contract, Succession, Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none: No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle: No occupation, all men idle, all: And Women too, but innocent and pure: No Soueraignty. Seb. Yet he would be King on't. Ant. The latter end of his Common-wealth forgets the beginning. Gon. All things in common Nature should produce Without sweat or endeuour: Treason, fellony, Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any Engine Would I not haue: but Nature should bring forth Of it owne kinde, all foyzon, all abundance To feed my innocent people. Seb. No marrying 'mong his subiects? Ant. None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues, Gon. I vvould vvith such perfection gouerne Sir: T'Excell the Golden Age. Seb. 'Sau'e his Maiesty. Ant. Long liue Gonzalo. Gon. And do you marke me, Sir? (me. Alon. Pre-thee no more: thou doft talke nothing to Gon. I do vvell beleeue your Highnesse, and did it to minister occasion to these Gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble Lungs, that they alwayes vse to laugh at nothing. Ant. 'Twas you vv laugh'd at. Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. Ant. What a blow vvas there giuen? Seb. And it had not falne flat-long. Gon. You are Gentlemen of braue mettal: you would lift the Moone out of her sphere, if she would continue in it fiue weekes vvithout changing. Enter Ariell playing Solemne Musick. Seb. We vvould so, and then go a Bat-fowling. Ant. Nay good my Lord, be not angry. Gon. No I warrant you. I vvill not aduenture my discretion so weakly: Will you laugh me asleepe, for I am very heauy. Ant. Go sleepe, and heare vs. Alon. What, all so soone asleepe? I wish mine eyes Would (with themselues) shut vp my thoughts, I finde they are inclin'd to do so. Seb. Please you Sir, Do not omit the heauy offer of it: It seldome visits forrow, when it doth, it is a Comforter. Ant.