finished_summaries/sparknotes/The Tempest/section_9_part_0.txt
The Tempest.act v.scene i
act v, scene i & epilogue
{"name": "Act V, scene i & Epilogue", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210131162607/https://www.sparknotes.com/shakespeare/tempest/section10/", "summary": "Ariel tells Prospero that the day has reached its \"sixth hour\" , when Ariel is allowed to stop working. Prospero acknowledges Ariel's request and asks how the king and his followers are faring. Ariel tells him that they are currently imprisoned, as Prospero ordered, in a grove. Alonso, Antonio, and Sebastian are mad with fear; and Gonzalo, Ariel says, cries constantly. Prospero tells Ariel to go release the men, and now alone on stage, delivers his famous soliloquy in which he gives up magic. He says he will perform his last task and then break his staff and drown his magic book. Ariel now enters with Alonso and his companions, who have been charmed and obediently stand in a circle. Prospero speaks to them in their charmed state, praising Gonzalo for his loyalty and chiding the others for their treachery. He then sends Ariel to his cell to fetch the clothes he once wore as Duke of Milan. Ariel goes and returns immediately to help his master to put on the garments. Prospero promises to grant freedom to his loyal helper-spirit and sends him to fetch the Boatswain and mariners from the wrecked ship. Ariel goes. Prospero releases Alonso and his companions from their spell and speaks with them. He forgives Antonio but demands that Antonio return his dukedom. Antonio does not respond and does not, in fact, say a word for the remainder of the play except to note that Caliban is \"no doubt marketable\" . Alonso now tells Prospero of the missing Ferdinand. Prospero tells Alonso that he, too, has lost a child in this last tempest--his daughter. Alonso continues to be wracked with grief. Prospero then draws aside a curtain, revealing behind it Ferdinand and Miranda, who are playing a game of chess. Alonso is ecstatic at the discovery. Meanwhile, the sight of more humans impresses Miranda. Alonso embraces his son and daughter-in-law to be and begs Miranda's forgiveness for the treacheries of twelve years ago. Prospero silences Alonso's apologies, insisting that the reconciliation is complete. After arriving with the Boatswain and mariners, Ariel is sent to fetch Caliban, Trinculo, and Stephano, which he speedily does. The three drunken thieves are sent to Prospero's cell to return the clothing they stole and to clean it in preparation for the evening's reveling. Prospero then invites Alonso and his company to stay the night. He will tell them the tale of his last twelve years, and in the morning, they can all set out for Naples, where Miranda and Ferdinand will be married. After the wedding, Prospero will return to Milan, where he plans to contemplate the end of his life. The last charge Prospero gives to Ariel before setting him free is to make sure the trip home is made on \"calm seas\" with \"auspicious gales\" . The other characters exit, and Prospero delivers the epilogue. He describes the loss of his magical powers  and says that, as he imprisoned Ariel and Caliban, the audience has now imprisoned him on the stage. He says that the audience can only release him by applauding, and asks them to remember that his only desire was to please them. He says that, as his listeners would like to have their own crimes forgiven, they should forgive him, and set him free by clapping.", "analysis": "Analysis In this scene, all of the play's characters are brought on stage together for the first time. Prospero repeatedly says that he is relinquishing his magic, but its presence pervades the scene. He enters in his magic robes. He brings Alonso and the others into a charmed circle  and holds them there for about fifty lines. Once he releases them from the spell, he makes the magician-like spectacle of unveiling Miranda and Ferdinand behind a curtain, playing chess . His last words of the play proper are a command to Ariel to ensure for him a safe voyage home. Only in the epilogue, when he is alone on-stage, does Prospero announce definitively that his charms are \"all o'erthrown\" . When Prospero passes judgment on his enemies in the final scene, we are no longer put off by his power, both because his love for Miranda has humanized him to a great extent, and also because we now can see that, over the course of the play, his judgments generally have been justified. Gonzalo is an \"honourable man\" ; Alonso did, and knows he did, treat Prospero \"ost cruelly\" ; and Antonio is an \"nnatural\" brother . Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, led in sheepishly in their stolen apparel at line 258, are so foolish as to deserve punishment, and Prospero's command that they \"trim\" his cell \"handsomely\" in preparation for the evening's revels seems mild. Accusing his enemies neither more nor less than they deserve, and forgiving them instantly once he has been restored to his dukedom, Prospero has at last come to seem judicious rather than arbitrary in his use of power. Of course, it helps that Prospero's most egregious sins have been mitigated by the outcome of events. He will no longer hold Ariel and Caliban as slaves because he is giving up his magic and returning to Naples. Moreover, he will no longer dominate Miranda because she is marrying Ferdinand. Prospero has made the audience see the other characters clearly and accurately. What is remarkable is the fact that the most sympathetic character in the play, Miranda, still cannot. Miranda's last lines are her most famous: \"O wonder!\" she exclaims upon seeing the company Prospero has assembled. \"How many goodly creatures are there here! / How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world / That has such people in't!\" . From Miranda's innocent perspective, such a remark seems genuine and even true. But from the audience's perspective, it must seem somewhat ridiculous. After all, Antonio and Sebastian are still surly and impudent; Alonso has repented only after believing his son to be dead; and Trinculo and Stephano are drunken, petty thieves. However, Miranda speaks from the perspective of someone who has not seen any human being except her father since she was three years old. She is merely delighted by the spectacle of all these people. In a sense, her innocence may be shared to some extent by the playwright, who takes delight in creating and presenting a vast array of humanity, from kings to traitors, from innocent virgins to inebriated would-be murderers. As a result, though Miranda's words are to some extent undercut by irony, it is not too much of a stretch to think that Shakespeare really does mean this benediction on a world \"hat has such people in't!\" After all, Prospero is another stand-in for the playwright, and he forgives all the wrongdoers at the end of the play. There is an element in the conclusion of The Tempest that celebrates the multiplicity and variety of human life, which, while it may result in complication and ambiguity, also creates humor, surprise, and love. If The Tempest is read, as it often is, as a celebration of creativity and art, the aging Shakespeare's swan song to the theater, then this closing benediction may have a much broader application than just to this play, referring to the breadth of humanity that inspired the breadth of Shakespeare's characters. Similarly, Prospero's final request for applause in the monologue functions as a request for forgiveness, not merely for the wrongs he has committed in this play. It also requests forgiveness for the beneficent tyranny of creativity itself, in which an author, like a Prospero, moves people at his will, controls the minds of others, creates situations to suit his aims, and arranges outcomes entirely in the service of his own idea of goodness or justice or beauty. In this way, the ambiguity surrounding Prospero's power in The Tempest may be inherent to art itself. Like Prospero, authors work according to their own conceptions of a desirable or justifiable outcome. But as in The Tempest, a happy ending can restore harmony, and a well-developed play can create an authentic justice, even if it originates entirely in the mind of the author. The plot of The Tempest is organized around the idea of persuasion, as Prospero gradually moves his sense of justice from his own mind into the outside world, gradually applying it to everyone around him until the audience believes it, too. This aggressive persuasiveness makes Prospero difficult to admire at times. Still, in another sense, persuasion characterizes the entire play, which seeks to enthrall audiences with its words and magic as surely as Prospero sought to enthrall Ariel. And because the audience decides whether it believes in the play--whether to applaud, as Prospero asks them to do--the real power lies not with the playwright, but with the viewer, not with the imagination that creates the story, but with the imagination that receives it. In this way, Shakespeare transforms the troubling ambiguity of the play into a surprising cause for celebration. The power wielded by Prospero, which seemed unsettling at first, is actually the source of all of our pleasure in the drama. In fact, it is the reason we came to the theater in the first place."}
ACT V. SCENE I.

_Before the cell of Prospero._

  _Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL._

_Pros._ Now does my project gather to a head:
My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time
Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day?

_Ari._ On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,
You said our work should cease.

_Pros._                       I did say so,                          5
When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,
How fares the king and's followers?

_Ari._                            Confined together
In the same fashion as you gave in charge,
Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,
In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell;                    10
They cannot budge till your release. The king,
His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly
Him that you term'd, sir, "The good old lord, Gonzalo;"             15
His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops
From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em,
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.

_Pros._            Dost thou think so, spirit?

_Ari._ Mine would, sir, were I human.

_Pros._                             And mine shall.                 20
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 moved than thou art?
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,             25
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. Go release them, Ariel:                        30
My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore,
And they shall be themselves.

_Ari._                      I'll fetch them, sir.    [_Exit._

_Pros._ 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                         35
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--                           40
Weak masters though ye be--I have bedimm'd
The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds.
And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault
Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak                      45
With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory
Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck'd up
The pine and cedar: graves at my command
Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth
By my so potent art. But this rough magic                           50
I here abjure; and, when I have required
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,                               55
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I'll drown my book.                    [_Solemn music._

  _Re-enter ARIEL before: then ALONSO, with a frantic gesture,
  attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner,
  attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO: they all enter the circle
  which PROSPERO had made, and there stand charmed; which PROSPERO
  observing, speaks:_

A solemn air, and the best comforter
To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains,
Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There stand,                  60
For you are spell-stopp'd.
Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,
Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine,
Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace;
And as the morning steals upon the night,                           65
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,
My true preserver, and a loyal sir
To him thou follow'st! I will pay thy graces                        70
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,                       75
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                           80
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,
Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell:
I will discase me, and myself present                               85
As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit;
Thou shalt ere long be free.

_ARIEL sings and helps to attire him._

    Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
    In a cowslip's bell I lie;
    There I couch when owls do cry.                                 90
    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.

_Pros._ Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee;             95
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,                           100
And presently, I prithee.

_Ari._ I drink the air before me, and return
Or ere your pulse twice beat.    [_Exit._

_Gon._ All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement
Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us                        105
Out of this fearful country!

_Pros._                    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                                  110
A hearty welcome.

_Alon._         Whether 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,
The affliction of my mind amends, with which,                      115
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?

_Pros._              First, noble friend,                          120
Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot
Be measured or confined.

_Gon._                 Whether this be
Or be not, I'll not swear.

_Pros._                  You do yet taste
Some subtilties o' the isle, that will not let you
Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all!                   125
[_Aside to Seb. and Ant._]
    But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded,
I here could pluck his Highness' frown upon you,
And justify you traitors: at this time
I will tell no tales.

_Seb._ [_Aside_]    The devil speaks in him.

_Pros._                                    No.
For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother                     130
Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive
Thy rankest fault,--all of them; and require
My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,
Thou must restore.

_Alon._          If thou be'st Prospero,
Give us particulars of thy preservation;                           135
How thou hast met us here, who three hours since
Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost--
How sharp the point of this remembrance is!--
My dear son Ferdinand.

_Pros._              I am woe for't, sir.

_Alon._ Irreparable is the loss; and patience                      140
Says it is past her cure.

_Pros._                 I rather think
You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace
For the like loss I have her sovereign aid,
And rest myself content.

_Alon._                You the like loss!

_Pros._ As great to me as late; and, supportable                   145
To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker
Than you may call to comfort you, for I
Have lost my daughter.

_Alon._              A daughter?
O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,
The king and queen there! that they were, I wish                   150
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed
Where my son lies. When did you lose you daughter?

_Pros._ In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords
At this encounter do so much admire,
That they devour their reason, and scarce think                    155
Their eyes do offices of truth, their words
Are natural breath: but, howsoe'er you have
Been justled from your senses, know for certain
That I am Prospero, and that very duke
Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely                160
Upon this shore, where you were wreck'd, was landed,
To be the Lord on't. No more yet of this;
For 'tis a chronicle of day by day,
Not a relation for a breakfast, nor
Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir;                        165
This cell's my court: here have I few attendants,
And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in.
My dukedom since you have given me again,
I will requite you with as good a thing;
At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye                       170
As much as me my dukedom.

  _Here Prospero discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chess._

_Mir._ Sweet lord, you play me false.

_Fer._                              No, my dear'st love,
I would not for the world.

_Mir._ Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,
And I would call it fair play.

_Alon._                      If this prove                         175
A vision of the island, one dear son
Shall I twice lose.

_Seb._            A most high miracle!

_Fer._ Though the seas threaten, they are merciful;
I have cursed them without cause.               [_Kneels._

_Alon._                          Now all the blessings
Of a glad father compass thee about!                               180
Arise, and say how thou camest here.

_Mir._                             O, wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has such people in't!

_Pros._                  'Tis new to thee.

_Alon._ What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?             185
Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours:
Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us,
And brought us thus together?

_Fer._                      Sir, she is mortal;
But by immortal Providence she's mine:
I chose her when I could not ask my father                         190
For his advice, nor thought I had one. She
Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan,
Of whom so often I have heard renown,
But never saw before; of whom I have
Received a second life; and second father                          195
This lady makes him to me.

_Alon._                  I am hers:
But, O, how oddly will it sound that I
Must ask my child forgiveness!

_Pros._                      There, sir, stop:
Let us not burthen our remembrances with
A heaviness that's gone.

_Gon._                 I have inly wept,                           200
Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you gods,
And on this couple drop a blessed crown!
For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way
Which brought us hither.

_Alon._                I say, Amen, Gonzalo!

_Gon._ Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue                 205
Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice
Beyond a common joy! and set it down
With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage
Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis,
And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife                           210
Where he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedom
In a poor isle, and all of us ourselves
When no man was his own.

_Alon._ [_to Fer. and Mir._] Give me your hands:
Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart
That doth not wish you joy!

_Gon._                    Be it so! Amen!                          215

  _Re-enter ARIEL, with the _Master_ and _Boatswain_ amazedly
  following._

O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us:
I prophesied, if a gallows were on land,
This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy,
That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore?
Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?                      220

_Boats._ The best news is, that we have safely found
Our king and company; the next, our ship--
Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split--
Is tight and yare and bravely rigg'd, as when
We first put out to sea.

_Ari._ [_Aside to Pros._] Sir, all this service                    225
Have I done since I went.

_Pros._ [_Aside to Ari._] My tricksy spirit!

_Alon._ These are not natural events; they strengthen
From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither?

_Boats._ If I did think, sir, I were well awake,
I'ld strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,                    230
And--how we know not--all clapp'd under hatches;
Where, but even now, with strange and several noises
Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains,
And more diversity of sounds, all horrible,
We were awaked; straightway, at liberty;                           235
Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld
Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master
Capering to eye her:--on a trice, so please you,
Even in a dream, were we divided from them,
And were brought moping hither.

_Ari._ [_Aside to Pros._] Was't well done?                         240

_Pros._ [_Aside to Ari._] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free.

_Alon._ This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod;
And there is in this business more than nature
Was ever conduct of: some oracle
Must rectify our knowledge.

_Pros._                   Sir, my liege,                           245
Do not infest your mind with beating on
The strangeness of this business; at pick'd leisure
Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you,
Which to you shall seem probable, of every
These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheerful,                  250
And think of each thing well.
    [_Aside to Ari._] Come hither, spirit:
Set Caliban and his companions free;
Untie the spell. [_Exit Ariel._] How fares my gracious sir?
There are yet missing of your company
Some few odd lads that you remember not.                           255

  _Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO,
  in their stolen apparel._

_Ste._ Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man
take care for himself; for all is but fortune. --Coragio,
bully-monster, coragio!

_Trin._ If these be true spies which I wear in my head,
here's a goodly sight.                                             260

_Cal._ O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed!
How fine my master is! I am afraid
He will chastise me.

_Seb._             Ha, ha!
What things are these, my lord Antonio?
Will money buy 'em?

_Ant._            Very like; one of them                           265
Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.

_Pros._ Mark but the badges of these men, my lords,
Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave,
His mother was a witch; and one so strong
That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,                  270
And deal in her command, without her power.
These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil--
For he's a bastard one--had plotted with them
To take my life. Two of these fellows you
Must know and own; this thing of darkness I                        275
Acknowledge mine.

_Cal._          I shall be pinch'd to death.

_Alon._ Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?

_Seb._ He is drunk now: where had he wine?

_Alon._ And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they
Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em?--                     280
How camest thou in this pickle?

_Trin._ I have been in such a pickle, since I saw you
last, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not
fear fly-blowing.

_Seb._ Why, how now, Stephano!                                     285

_Ste._ O, touch me not;--I am not Stephano, but a cramp.

_Pros._ You'ld be king o' the isle, sirrah?

_Ste._ I should have been a sore one, then.

_Alon._ This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd on.
                                [_Pointing to Caliban._

_Pros._ He is as disproportion'd in his manners                    290
As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell;
Take with you your companions; as you look
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.

_Cal._ Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter,
And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass                       295
Was I, to take this drunkard for a god,
And worship this dull fool!

_Pros._                Go to; away!

_Alon._ Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.

_Seb._ Or stole it, rather.    [_Exeunt Cal., Ste., and Trin._

_Pros._ Sir, I invite your Highness and your train                 300
To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest
For this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste
With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it
Go quick away: the story of my life,
And the particular accidents gone by                               305
Since I came to this isle: and in the morn
I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
Where I have hope to see the nuptial
Of these our dear-beloved solemnized;
And thence retire me to my Milan, where                            310
Every third thought shall be my grave.

_Alon._                              I long
To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely.

_Pros._               I'll deliver all;
And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,
And sail so expeditious, that shall catch
Your royal fleet far off. [_Aside to Ari._] My Ariel, chick,       315
That is thy charge: then to the elements
Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near.
    [_Exeunt._


  Notes: V, 1.

  7: _together_] om. Pope.
  9: _all_] _all your_ Pope.
  10: _line-grove_] _lime-grove_ Rowe.
  11: _your_] F1 F2. _you_ F3 F4.
  15: _sir_] om. Pope.
  16: _run_] _runs_ F1.
  _winter's_] _winter_ F4.]
  23: F1 F2 put a comma after _sharply_. F3 F4 omit it.
  24: _Passion_] _Passion'd_ Pope.
  26: _'gainst_] Pope. _gainst_ F1 F2. _against_ F3 F4.
  33: SCENE II. Pope.
  37: _green sour_] _green-sward_ Douce conj.
  46: _strong-based_] Rowe. _strong-bass'd_ Ff.
  58: SCENE III. Pope.
  60: _boil'd_] Pope. _boile_ F1 F2. _boil_ F3 F4.
  62: _Holy_] _Noble_ Collier MS.
  63: _show_] _shew_ Ff. _flow_ Collier MS.
  64: _fellowly_] _fellow_ Pope.
  68: _O_] _O my_ Pope. _O thou_ S. Walker conj.
  69: _sir_] _servant_ Collier MS.
  72: _Didst_] F3 F4. _Did_ F1 F2.
  74: _Sebastian. Flesh and blood,_] _Sebastian, flesh and blood._
    Theobald.
  75: _entertain'd_] _entertaine_ F1.
  76: _who_] Rowe. _whom_ Ff.
  82: _lies_] F3 F4. _ly_ F1 F2.
  83: _or_] _e'er_ Collier MS.
  84: Theobald gives as stage direction "Exit Ariel and returns
    immediately."
  88: _suck_] _lurk_ Theobald.
  90: _couch_] _crowch_ F3 F4.
  [Capell punctuates _There I couch: when owls do cry,_]
  92: _summer_] _sun-set_ Theobald.
  106: _Behold,_] _lo!_ Pope.
  111: _Whether thou be'st_] _Where thou beest_ Ff. _Be'st thou_ Pope.
    _Whe'r thou be'st_ Capell.
  112: _trifle_] _devil_ Collier MS.
  119: _my_] _thy_ Collier MS.
  124: _not_] F3 F4. _nor_ F1 F2.
  132: _fault_] _faults_ F4.
  136: _who_] F2 F3 F4. _whom_ F1.
  145: _and,_] _sir, and_ Capell.
  _supportable_] F1 F2. _insupportable_ F3 F4. _portable_ Steevens.
  148: _my_] _my only_ Hanmer.
  _A daughter_] _Only daughter_ Hanmer. _Daughter_ Capell.
  156: _eyes_] F1. _eye_ F2 F3 F4.
  _their_] _these_ Capell.]
  172: SCENE IV. Pope.
  Here Prospero discovers...] Ff. SCENE opens to the entrance of
    the cell. Here Prospero discovers... Theobald. Cell opens and
    discovers... Capell.]
  172: _dear'st_] _dearest_ Ff.
  179: [Kneels] Theobald.
  191: _advice_] F4. _advise_ F1 F2 F3.
  199, 200: _remembrances with_] _remembrance with_ Pope.
    _remembrances With_ Malone.
  213: _When_] _Where_ Johnson conj.]
  _and_] om. Capell.
  216: SCENE V. Pope.
  _sir, look, sir_] _sir, look_ F3 F4.]
  _is_] _are_ Pope.]
  221: _safely_] _safe_ F3 F4.
  230: _of sleep_] _a-sleep_ Pope.
  234: _more_] Rowe. _mo_ F1 F2. _moe_ F3 F4.
  236: _her_] Theobald (Thirlby conj.). _our_ Ff.
  242-245: Given to Ariel in F2 F3 F4.
  247: _leisure_] F1. _seisure_ F2. _seizure_ F3 F4.
  248: _Which shall be shortly, single_] Pope. _(which shall be
    shortly single)_ Ff.
  253: [Exit Ariel] Capell.
  256: SCENE VI. Pope.
  258: _Coragio_] _corasio_ F1.
  268: _mis-shapen_] _mis-shap'd_ Pope.
  271: _command, without her power._] _command. Without her power,_
    anon. conj.
  _without_] _with all_ Collier MS.
  280: _liquor_] _'lixir_ Theobald.
  282-284: Printed as verse in Ff.
  289: _This is_] F1 F2. _'Tis_ F3 F4.]
  _e'er I_] _I ever_ Hanmer.
  [Pointing to Caliban.] Steevens.]
  299: [Exeunt... Trin.] Capell.
  308: _nuptial_] _nuptiall_ F1. _nuptials_ F2 F3 F4.
  309: See note (XVIII).






Act V, scene i & Epilogue
Ariel tells Prospero that the day has reached its "sixth hour" , when Ariel is allowed to stop working. Prospero acknowledges Ariel's request and asks how the king and his followers are faring. Ariel tells him that they are currently imprisoned, as Prospero ordered, in a grove. Alonso, Antonio, and Sebastian are mad with fear; and Gonzalo, Ariel says, cries constantly. Prospero tells Ariel to go release the men, and now alone on stage, delivers his famous soliloquy in which he gives up magic. He says he will perform his last task and then break his staff and drown his magic book. Ariel now enters with Alonso and his companions, who have been charmed and obediently stand in a circle. Prospero speaks to them in their charmed state, praising Gonzalo for his loyalty and chiding the others for their treachery. He then sends Ariel to his cell to fetch the clothes he once wore as Duke of Milan. Ariel goes and returns immediately to help his master to put on the garments. Prospero promises to grant freedom to his loyal helper-spirit and sends him to fetch the Boatswain and mariners from the wrecked ship. Ariel goes. Prospero releases Alonso and his companions from their spell and speaks with them. He forgives Antonio but demands that Antonio return his dukedom. Antonio does not respond and does not, in fact, say a word for the remainder of the play except to note that Caliban is "no doubt marketable" . Alonso now tells Prospero of the missing Ferdinand. Prospero tells Alonso that he, too, has lost a child in this last tempest--his daughter. Alonso continues to be wracked with grief. Prospero then draws aside a curtain, revealing behind it Ferdinand and Miranda, who are playing a game of chess. Alonso is ecstatic at the discovery. Meanwhile, the sight of more humans impresses Miranda. Alonso embraces his son and daughter-in-law to be and begs Miranda's forgiveness for the treacheries of twelve years ago. Prospero silences Alonso's apologies, insisting that the reconciliation is complete. After arriving with the Boatswain and mariners, Ariel is sent to fetch Caliban, Trinculo, and Stephano, which he speedily does. The three drunken thieves are sent to Prospero's cell to return the clothing they stole and to clean it in preparation for the evening's reveling. Prospero then invites Alonso and his company to stay the night. He will tell them the tale of his last twelve years, and in the morning, they can all set out for Naples, where Miranda and Ferdinand will be married. After the wedding, Prospero will return to Milan, where he plans to contemplate the end of his life. The last charge Prospero gives to Ariel before setting him free is to make sure the trip home is made on "calm seas" with "auspicious gales" . The other characters exit, and Prospero delivers the epilogue. He describes the loss of his magical powers  and says that, as he imprisoned Ariel and Caliban, the audience has now imprisoned him on the stage. He says that the audience can only release him by applauding, and asks them to remember that his only desire was to please them. He says that, as his listeners would like to have their own crimes forgiven, they should forgive him, and set him free by clapping.
Analysis In this scene, all of the play's characters are brought on stage together for the first time. Prospero repeatedly says that he is relinquishing his magic, but its presence pervades the scene. He enters in his magic robes. He brings Alonso and the others into a charmed circle  and holds them there for about fifty lines. Once he releases them from the spell, he makes the magician-like spectacle of unveiling Miranda and Ferdinand behind a curtain, playing chess . His last words of the play proper are a command to Ariel to ensure for him a safe voyage home. Only in the epilogue, when he is alone on-stage, does Prospero announce definitively that his charms are "all o'erthrown" . When Prospero passes judgment on his enemies in the final scene, we are no longer put off by his power, both because his love for Miranda has humanized him to a great extent, and also because we now can see that, over the course of the play, his judgments generally have been justified. Gonzalo is an "honourable man" ; Alonso did, and knows he did, treat Prospero "ost cruelly" ; and Antonio is an "nnatural" brother . Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, led in sheepishly in their stolen apparel at line 258, are so foolish as to deserve punishment, and Prospero's command that they "trim" his cell "handsomely" in preparation for the evening's revels seems mild. Accusing his enemies neither more nor less than they deserve, and forgiving them instantly once he has been restored to his dukedom, Prospero has at last come to seem judicious rather than arbitrary in his use of power. Of course, it helps that Prospero's most egregious sins have been mitigated by the outcome of events. He will no longer hold Ariel and Caliban as slaves because he is giving up his magic and returning to Naples. Moreover, he will no longer dominate Miranda because she is marrying Ferdinand. Prospero has made the audience see the other characters clearly and accurately. What is remarkable is the fact that the most sympathetic character in the play, Miranda, still cannot. Miranda's last lines are her most famous: "O wonder!" she exclaims upon seeing the company Prospero has assembled. "How many goodly creatures are there here! / How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world / That has such people in't!" . From Miranda's innocent perspective, such a remark seems genuine and even true. But from the audience's perspective, it must seem somewhat ridiculous. After all, Antonio and Sebastian are still surly and impudent; Alonso has repented only after believing his son to be dead; and Trinculo and Stephano are drunken, petty thieves. However, Miranda speaks from the perspective of someone who has not seen any human being except her father since she was three years old. She is merely delighted by the spectacle of all these people. In a sense, her innocence may be shared to some extent by the playwright, who takes delight in creating and presenting a vast array of humanity, from kings to traitors, from innocent virgins to inebriated would-be murderers. As a result, though Miranda's words are to some extent undercut by irony, it is not too much of a stretch to think that Shakespeare really does mean this benediction on a world "hat has such people in't!" After all, Prospero is another stand-in for the playwright, and he forgives all the wrongdoers at the end of the play. There is an element in the conclusion of The Tempest that celebrates the multiplicity and variety of human life, which, while it may result in complication and ambiguity, also creates humor, surprise, and love. If The Tempest is read, as it often is, as a celebration of creativity and art, the aging Shakespeare's swan song to the theater, then this closing benediction may have a much broader application than just to this play, referring to the breadth of humanity that inspired the breadth of Shakespeare's characters. Similarly, Prospero's final request for applause in the monologue functions as a request for forgiveness, not merely for the wrongs he has committed in this play. It also requests forgiveness for the beneficent tyranny of creativity itself, in which an author, like a Prospero, moves people at his will, controls the minds of others, creates situations to suit his aims, and arranges outcomes entirely in the service of his own idea of goodness or justice or beauty. In this way, the ambiguity surrounding Prospero's power in The Tempest may be inherent to art itself. Like Prospero, authors work according to their own conceptions of a desirable or justifiable outcome. But as in The Tempest, a happy ending can restore harmony, and a well-developed play can create an authentic justice, even if it originates entirely in the mind of the author. The plot of The Tempest is organized around the idea of persuasion, as Prospero gradually moves his sense of justice from his own mind into the outside world, gradually applying it to everyone around him until the audience believes it, too. This aggressive persuasiveness makes Prospero difficult to admire at times. Still, in another sense, persuasion characterizes the entire play, which seeks to enthrall audiences with its words and magic as surely as Prospero sought to enthrall Ariel. And because the audience decides whether it believes in the play--whether to applaud, as Prospero asks them to do--the real power lies not with the playwright, but with the viewer, not with the imagination that creates the story, but with the imagination that receives it. In this way, Shakespeare transforms the troubling ambiguity of the play into a surprising cause for celebration. The power wielded by Prospero, which seemed unsettling at first, is actually the source of all of our pleasure in the drama. In fact, it is the reason we came to the theater in the first place.