WHat a Sea comes in?

A hoaming Sea! we shall have foul weather.

The Scud cōmes against the Wind, 'twill blow hard.

Bosen!

Here, Master what cheer?

Ill weather! let's off to Sea.

Let's have Sea-room enough, and then let it blow the Devils head off.

Boy!

Yaw, yaw, here Master.

Give the Pilot a dram of the Bottle.

Heigh, my hearts, chearly, chearly, my hearts, yare, yare.

Pray keep below.

Where's the Master, Bosen?

Do you not hear him? you mar our labour: keep your Cabins, you help the storm.

Nay, good friend be patient.

I, when the Sea is: hence; what care these roarers for the name of Duke? to Cabin; silence; trouble us not.

Good friend, remember whom thou hast aboard.

None that I love more than my self: you are a Coun∣sellour, if you can advise these Elements to silence: use your wisdom: if you cannot, make your self ready in the Cabin for the ill hour. Cheerly good hearts! out of our way, Sirs.

I have great comfort from this Fellow; methinks his complexion is perfect Gallows; stand fast, good fate, to his hang∣ing; make the Rope of his destiny our Cable, for our own do•s little advantage us; if he be not born to be hang'd we shall be drown'd.

Up aloft Lads. Come, reef both Top-sails.

Let's weigh, Let's weigh, and off to Sea.

Hands down! man your main-Capstorm

Up aloft! and man your seere-Capstrom.

My Lads, my hearts of Gold, get in your Capstorm-Bar. Hoa up, hoa up, &c.

Our Viall's broke.

'Tis but our Vial-block has given way. Come heave Lads! we are fix'd again. Heave together Bullyes.

Is the Anchor a peek?

Is a weigh! Is a weigh!

Haul Catt, Haul Catt, &c. Haul Catt, haul: haul, Catt, haul. Below.

Aft, Aft! and loose the Misen!

Get the Misen-tack aboard. Haul Aft Misen-sheat!

Loose the main Top-sail!

Furle him again, there's too much Wind.

Loose Fore-sail! Haul Aft both sheats! trim her right afore the Wind. Aft! Aft! Lads, and hale up the Misen here.

A Mackrel-Gale, Master.

Port hard, port! the Wind grows scant, bring the Tack aboard Port is. Star-board, star-board, a little steady; now steady, keep her thus, no neerer you cannot come.

Some hands down: the Guns are loose.

Try the Pump, try the Pump!

O Master! six foot Water in Hold.

Over-haul your fore-boling.

Brace in the Lar-board.

Yet again, what do you here! shall we give o're, and drown? ha' you a mind to sink?

A Pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, uncharitable dog.

Work you then.

Hang, Cur, hang, you whorson insolent noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drown'd than thou art.

Brace off the Fore-yard.

I'le warrant him for drowning, though the Ship were no stronger than a Nut-shell, and as leaky as an unstanch'd Wench.

For my self I care not, but your loss brings a thousand Deaths to me.

O name not me, I am grown old, my Son; I now am tedious to the world, and that, by use, is so to me: but, Ferdi∣nand, I grieve my subjects loss in thee: Alas! I suffer justly for my crimes, but why thou shouldest—O Heaven!

Heark, farewel my Son! a long farewel!

Some lucky Plank, when we are lost by shipwrack, wast hither, and submit it self beneath you.

Your blessing, and I dye contented.

What must our mouths be cold then?

All's lost. To prayers, to prayers.

The Duke and Prince are gone within t• •rayers. Let's assist them.

Nay, we may e'ne pray too; our case 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.

He'll he hang'd yet, though every drop of water fwears against it; now would I give ten thousand Furlongs of Sea for one Acre of barren ground, Long-heath, Broom-furs, or any thing. The wills above be done, but I would fain dye a dry death.

Mercy upon us! we split, we split.

Let's all sink with the Duke, and the young Prince.

The Ship is sinking.

Run her ashore!

Luffe! luffe! or we are all lost! there's a Rock upon the Star-board Bow.

She strikes, she strikes! All shift for themselves.

Miranda! where's your Sister?

I left her looking from the pointed Rock, at the walks end, on the huge beat of Waters.

It is a dreadful object.

If by your Art, my dearest Father, you have put them in this roar, allay 'em quickly.

Had I been any God of power, I would have sunk the Sea into the Earth, before it should the Vessel so have swallowed.

O woe the day!

I ne're indeavour'd to know more than you were pleas'd to tell me.

I should inform thee farther: wipe thou thine Eyes, have comfort; the direful spectacle of the wrack, which touch'd the very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such a pity safely order'd, that not one creature in the Ship is lost.

The hour's now come;

Obey, and be attentive, Canst thou remember a time before we came into this Cell? I do not think thou canst, for then thou wert not full three years old.

Certainly I can, Sir.

Tell me the image then of any thing which thou dost keep in thy remembrance still.

Sir, had I not four or five Women once that tended me?

Thou hadst, and more, Miranda: what see'st thou else in the dark back-ward, and abyss of Time?

If thou remembrest ought e're thou cam'st here, then, how thou cam'st thou may'st remember too.

Sir, that I do not.

Fifteen Years since, Miranda, thy Father was the Duke of Millan, and a Prince of power.

Sir, are not you my Father?

Thy Mother was all virtue, and she said, thou wast my Daughter, and thy Sister too.

O Heavens! what foul play had we, that we hither came, or was't a blessing that we did?

Both, both, my Girl.

My Brother, and thy Uncle, call'd Antonio, to whom I trusted then the manage of my State, while I was wrap'd with secret Studies: That false Uncle (do'st thou attend me Child •)

Sir, most heedfully.

Having attain'd the craft of granting suits, and of de∣nying them; whom to advance, or lop, for over-toping, soon was grown the Ivy which did hide my Princely Trunck, and suckt my verdure out: thou attend'st not.

O good Sir, I do.

I thus neglecting worldly ends, and bent to closeness, and the bettering of my mind, wak'd in my false Brother an evil Nature:

He was indeed the Duke, because he then did execute the out∣ward face of Soveraignty. Do'st thou still mark me?

Your story would cure deafness.

To have no screen between the part he plaid, and whom he plaid it for; he needs would be Absolute Millan, and Confederates (so dry he was for Sway) with Savoy's Duke, to give him Tribute, and to do him homage.

False man!

Mated to his design, Antonio opened the Gates of Millan, and i'th' dead of darkness, hurri'd me thence with thy young Sister, and thy crying self.

But wherefore did they not that hour destroy us?

They durst not, Girl, in Millan, For the love my peo∣ple bore me; in short, they hurri'd us away to Savoy, and thence aboard a Bark at Nissa's Port: bore us some Leagues to Sea, where they prepar'd a rotten Carkass of a Boat, not rigg'd, no Tackle, Sail, nor Mast; the very Rats instinctively had quit it: they hoisted us, to cry to Seas which roar'd to us; to sigh to Winds, whose pity sighing back again, did seem to do us loving wrong.

Alack! what trouble was I then to you?

Thou and thy Sister were two Cherubins, which did preserve me: you both did smile, infus'd with fortitude from Heaven.

How came we ashore?

By Providence Divine, Some food we had, and some fresh Water, which a Noble man of Savoy, called Gonzalo, appointed Master of that black de∣sign, gave us; with rich Garments, and all necessaries, which since have steaded much: and of his gentleness (knowing I lov'd my Books) he furnisht me from mine own Library, with Volumes which I prize above my Dukedom.

Would I might see that man.

Here in this Island we arriv'd, and here have I your Tutor been. But by my skill I find that my mid-Heaven doth depend on a most happy Star, whose influence if I now court not, but omit, my Fortunes will ever after droop: here cease more question, thou art inclin'd to sleep: 'tis a good dulness, and give it way; I know thou canst not chuse.

All hail great Master, grave Sir, hail, I come to answer thy best pleasure, be it to fly, to swim, to shoot into the fire, to ride on the curl'd Clouds; to thy strong bidding, task Ariel and all his qualities.

Hast thou, Spirit, perform'd to point the Tempest that I bad thee?

To every Article.

I boarded the Duke's Ship, now on the Beak, now in the Waste, Page  8 the Deck, in every Cabin; I flam'd amazement, and some∣times I seem'd to burn in many places on the Top-Mast, the Yards and Bore-sprit; I did flame distinctly.

My brave Spirit!

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil did not infect his Reason?

Not a soul

But felt a Feaver of the mind, and play'd some tricks of despe∣ration; all, but Mariners, plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the Vessel: the Duke's Son, Ferdinand, with hair upstair∣ing (more like Reeds than Hair) was the first man that leap'd; cry'd, Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here.

Close by my Master.

But, Ariel, are they safe?

The Duke's Son I have landed by himself, whom I have left warming the air with sighs, in an odde angle of the Isle, and sitting, his arms he folded in this sad knot.

Say how thou hast dispos'd the Mariners of the Duke's Ship, and all the rest of the Fleet.

Past the mid-season.

At least two Glasses: the time 'tween six and now must by us both be spent most preciously.

Is there more toyl? since thou dost give me pains, let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, which is not yet perform'd me.

My liberty.

Before the time be out? no more.

No.

I do not, Sir.

Thou ly'st, malignant thing! hast thou forgot the foul Witch Sycorax, who with age and envy was grown into a Hoop? hast thou forgot her?

No Sir!

Thou hast; where was she born? speak, tell me.

Sir, in Argier.

Oh, was she so! I must

Once every Month recount what thou hast been, which thou forgettest. This damn'd Witch Sycorax for mischiefs mani∣fold, and sorceries too terrible to enter humane hearing, from Argier thou knowst was banisht: but for one thing she did, they would not take her life: is not this true?

I Sir.

Yes! Caliban her Son, and Sycorax his Sister.

Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban, and she that Sycorax, whom I now keep in service. Thou best knowst what torment I did find thee in, thy groans did make Wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts of ever angry Bears, it was a torment to lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax could ne're again undo: It was my Art, when I arriv'd, and heard thee, that made the Pine to gape and let thee out.

I thank thee, Master.

Do so, and after two days I'le discharge thee.

The sadness of your story put heaviness in me.

'Tis a creature, Sir, I do not love to look on.

But as 'tis, we cannot miss him; he does make our Fire, fetch in our Wood, and serve in Offices that profit us: what hoa! Slave! Caliban! thou Earth thou, speak.

There's Wood enough within.

My Lord it shall be done.

Thou poisonous Slave, got by the Devil himself upon thy wicked Dam, come forth.

As wicked Dew, as e're my Mother brush'd with Ra∣ven's Feather from unwholsome Fens, drop on you both: A South-west blow on you, and blister you all o're.

For this besure, to night thou shalt have Cramps, side∣stitches, that shall pen thy breath up; Urchins shall prick thee till thou bleed'st: thou shalt be pinch'd as thick as Honey-Combs, each pinch more stinging than the Bees which made 'em.

I must eat my dinner: this Island's mine by Sycorax my Mother, which thou took'st from me. When thou cam'st first, thou stroak'st me, and mad'st much of me, would'st give me Water with Berries in't, and teach me how to name the bigger Light, and how the less, that burn by day and night; and then I lov'd thee, and shew'd thee all the qualities of the Isle, the fresh-Springs, brine-Pits, barren places, and fertil. Curs'd be I, that I did so: All the Charms of Sycorax, Toads, Beetles, Batts, light on thee, for I am all the Subjects that thou hast. I first was mine own Lord; and here thou stay'st me in this hard Rock, whiles thou dost keep from me the rest o'th Island.

Thou most lying Slave, whom stripes may move, not kindness: I have us'd thee (filth that thou art) with humane care, and lodg'd thee in mine own Cell, till thou didst seek to violate the honour of my Children.

Oh ho, Oh ho, would t'had been done: thou did'st prevent me, I had peopl'd else this Isle with Calibans.

Abhor'd Slave!

Who ne're would any print of goodness take, being capable of all ill: I pity'd thee, took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour one thing or other; when thou didst not (Savage) know thy own meaning, but would'st gabble, like a thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes with words which made them known: But thy wild race (though thou did'st learn) had that in't, which good Natures could not abide to be with: therefore wast thou deservedly pent up into this Rock.

You taught me language, and my profit by it is, that I know to curse: the red botch rid you for learning me your language.

So Slave, hence.

Oh Sister! what have I beheld?

What is it moves you so?

O you mean the Ship.

Is't not a Creature then? it seem'd alive.

But what of it?

But what is that? for yet he never told me.

What, that he should eat us Sister?

But pray how does it come that we two are not Bro∣thers then, and have not Beards like him?

Now I confess you pose me.

How did he come to be our Father too?

I think he found us when we both were little, and grew within the ground.

Why could he not find more of us? pray sister let you and I look up and down one day, to find some little ones for us to play with.

And I, methinks, more long to see a Man.