ACT II. SCENE I.

_Another part of the island._

  _Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO,
  and others._

_Gon._ Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,
So have we all, of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe
Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
The masters of some merchant, and the merchant,                      5
Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.

_Alon._                    Prithee, peace.

_Seb._ He receives comfort like cold porridge.                      10

_Ant._ The visitor will not give him o'er so.

_Seb._ Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by
and by it will strike.

_Gon._ Sir,--

_Seb._ One: tell.                                                   15

_Gon._ When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd,
Comes to the entertainer--

_Seb._ A dollar.

_Gon._ Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken
truer than you purposed.                                            20

_Seb._ You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

_Gon._ Therefore, my lord,--

_Ant._ Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

_Alon._ I prithee, spare.

_Gon._ Well, I have done: but yet,--                                25

_Seb._ He will be talking.

_Ant._ Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first
begins to crow?

_Seb._ The old cock.

_Ant._ The cockerel.                                                30

_Seb._ Done. The wager?

_Ant._ A laughter.

_Seb._ A match!

_Adr._ Though this island seem to be desert,--

_Seb._ Ha, ha, ha!--So, you're paid.                                35

_Adr._ Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,--

_Seb._ Yet,--

_Adr._ Yet,--

_Ant._ He could not miss't.

_Adr._ It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate              40
temperance.

_Ant._ Temperance was a delicate wench.

_Seb._ Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

_Adr._ The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

_Seb._ As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.                         45

_Ant._ Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.

_Gon._ Here is every thing advantageous to life.

_Ant._ True; save means to live.

_Seb._ Of that there's none, or little.

_Gon._ How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!               50

_Ant._ The ground, indeed, is tawny.

_Seb._ With an eye of green 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             55
beyond credit,--

_Seb._ As many vouched rarities are.

_Gon._ That our garments, being, as they were, drenched
in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and glosses,
being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water.                 60

_Ant._ If but one of his pockets could speak, would it
not say he lies?

_Seb._ Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.

_Gon._ Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when
we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's        65
fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.

_Seb._ 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in
our return.

_Adr._ Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon
to their queen.                                                     70

_Gon._ Not since widow Dido's time.

_Ant._ Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow
in? widow Dido!

_Seb._ What if he had said 'widower Aeneas' too? Good
Lord, how you take it!                                              75

_Adr._ 'Widow Dido' said you? you make me study of
that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

_Gon._ This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

_Adr._ Carthage?

_Gon._ I assure you, Carthage.                                      80

_Seb._ His word is more than the miraculous harp; he
hath raised the wall, and houses too.

_Ant._ What impossible matter will he make easy next?

_Seb._ I think he will carry this island home in his
pocket, and give it his son for an apple.                           85

_Ant._ And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring
forth more islands.

_Gon._ Ay.

_Ant._ Why, in good time.

_Gon._ Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now              90
as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your
daughter, who is now queen.

_Ant._ And the rarest that e'er came there.

_Seb._ Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

_Ant._ O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.                               95

_Gon._ Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I
wore it? I mean, in a sort.

_Ant._ That sort was well fished for.

_Gon._ When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?

_Alon._ You cram these words into mine ears against                100
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost, and, in my rate, she too.
Who is so far from Italy removed
I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir                      105
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?

_Fran._                   Sir, he may live:
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water.
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted                          110
The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt                            115
He came alive to land.

_Alon._              No, no, he's gone.

_Seb._ Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,
That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,
But rather lose her to an African;
Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye,                    120
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.

_Alon._                             Prithee, peace.

_Seb._ You were kneel'd to, and importuned otherwise,
By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at
Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost your son,           125
I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business' making
Than we bring men to comfort them:
The fault's your own.

_Alon._             So is the dear'st o' the loss.

_Gon._ My lord Sebastian,                                          130
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.

_Seb._                           Very well.

_Ant._ And most chirurgeonly.

_Gon._ It is foul weather in us all, good sir,                     135
When you are cloudy.

_Seb._             Foul weather?

_Ant._                         Very foul.

_Gon._ Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,--

_Ant._ He'ld sow't with nettle-seed.

_Seb._                             Or docks, or mallows.

_Gon._ And were the king on't, what would I do?

_Seb._ 'Scape being drunk for want of wine.                        140

_Gon._ I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,                    145
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;
No occupation; all men idle, all;
And women too, but innocent and pure;
No sovereignty;--                                                  150

_Seb._      Yet he would be king on't.

_Ant._ The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the
beginning.

_Gon._ All things in common nature should produce
Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,                    155
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

_Seb._ No marrying 'mong his subjects?

_Ant._ None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.                     160

_Gon._ I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.

_Seb._                 'Save his majesty!

_Ant._ Long live Gonzalo!

_Gon._                  And,--do you mark me, sir?

_Alon._ Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.

_Gon._ I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister     165
occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible
and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.

_Ant._ 'Twas you we laughed at.

_Gon._ Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to
you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.              170

_Ant._ What a blow was there given!

_Seb._ An it had not fallen flat-long.

_Gon._ You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would
lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it
five weeks without changing.                                       175

  _Enter ARIEL (invisible) playing solemn music._

_Seb._ We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.

_Ant._ Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

_Gon._ No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion
so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very
heavy?                                                             180

_Ant._ Go sleep, and hear us.
            [_All sleep except Alon., Seb., and Ant._

_Alon._ What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find
They are inclined to do so.

_Seb._                    Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:                                 185
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.

_Ant._           We two, my lord,
Will guard your person while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.

_Alon._              Thank you.--Wondrous heavy.
                                [_Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel._

_Seb._ What a strange drowsiness possesses them!                   190

_Ant._ It is the quality o' the climate.

_Seb._                                 Why
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself disposed to sleep.

_Ant._                  Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,                  195
Worthy Sebastian?--O, what might?--No more:--
And yet methinks I see it in thy face,
What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee; and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.

_Seb._                What, art thou waking?                       200

_Ant._ Do you not hear me speak?

_Seb._                         I do; and surely
It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,                   205
And yet so fast asleep.

_Ant._                Noble Sebastian,
Thou let'st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink'st
Whiles thou art waking.

_Seb._                Thou dost snore distinctly;
There's meaning in thy snores.

_Ant._ I am more serious than my custom: you                       210
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do
Trebles thee o'er.

_Seb._           Well, I am standing water.

_Ant._ I'll teach you how to flow.

_Seb._                           Do so: to ebb
Hereditary sloth instructs me.

_Ant._                       O,
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish                        215
Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
Most often do so near the bottom run
By their own fear or sloth.

_Seb._                    Prithee, say on:
The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim                        220
A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
Which throes thee much to yield.

_Ant._                         Thus, sir:
Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuaded,--                  225
For he's a spirit of persuasion, only
Professes to persuade,--the king his son's alive,
'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd
As he that sleeps here swims.

_Seb._                      I have no hope
That he's undrown'd.

_Ant._             O, out of that 'no hope'                        230
What great hope have you! no hope that way is
Another way so high a hope that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me
That Ferdinand is drown'd?

_Seb._                   He's gone.

_Ant._                            Then, tell me,                   235
Who's the next heir of Naples?

_Seb._                       Claribel.

_Ant._ She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells
Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post,--
The man i' the moon's too slow,--till new-born chins               240
Be rough and razorable; she that from whom
We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again,
And by that destiny, to perform an act
Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come,
In yours and my discharge.

_Seb._                   What stuff is this! How say you?          245
'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis;
So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions
There is some space.

_Ant._             A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, "How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,                          250
And let Sebastian wake." Say, this were death
That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse
Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate
As amply and unnecessarily                                         255
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?

_Seb._ Methinks I do.

_Ant._              And how does your content                      260
Tender your own good fortune?

_Seb._                      I remember
You did supplant your brother Prospero.

_Ant._                                True:
And look how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before: my brother's servants
Were then my fellows; now they are my men.                         265

_Seb._ But for your conscience.

_Ant._ Ay, sir; where lies that? if 'twere a kibe,
'Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not
This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they,                   270
And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon,
If he were that which now he's like, that's dead;
Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,                   275
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;
They'll tell the clock to any business that                        280
We say befits the hour.

_Seb._                Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;
And I the king shall love thee.

_Ant._                        Draw together;                       285
And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.

_Seb._               O, but one word.      [_They talk apart._

  _Re-enter ARIEL invisible._

_Ari._ My master through his art foresees the danger
That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth,--
For else his project dies,--to keep them living.                   290
                            [_Sings in Gonzalo's ear._

While you here do snoring lie,
Open-eyed conspiracy
    His time doth take.
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware:                                     295
    Awake, awake!

_Ant._ Then let us both be sudden.

_Gon._                           Now, good angels
Preserve the king!                          [_They wake._

_Alon._ Why, how now? ho, awake!--Why are you drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking?

_Gon._                        What's the matter?                   300

_Seb._ Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions: did't not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.

_Alon._                         I heard nothing.

_Ant._ O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear,                   305
To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar
Of a whole herd of lions.

_Alon._                 Heard you this, Gonzalo?

_Gon._ Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd,                 310
I saw their weapons drawn:--there was a noise,
That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard,
Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.

_Alon._ Lead off this ground; and let's make further search
For my poor son.

_Gon._         Heavens keep him from these beasts!                 315
For he is, sure, i' th' island.

_Alon._                       Lead away.

_Ari._ Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.    [_Exeunt._

  Notes: II, 1.

  3: _hint_] _stint_ Warburton.
  5: _masters_] _master_ Johnson. _mistress_ Steevens conj.
    _master's_ Edd. conj.
  6: _of woe_] om. Steevens conj.
  11-99: Marked as interpolated by Pope.
  11: _visitor_] _'viser_ Warburton.
  _him_] om. Rowe.
  15: _one_] F1. _on_ F2 F3 F4.
  16: _entertain'd ... Comes_] Capell. _entertain'd, That's offer'd
    comes_] Ff. Printed as prose by Pope.
  27: _of he_] Ff. _of them, he_ Pope. _or he_ Collier MS.
    See note (VII).
  35: Seb. _Ha, ha, ha!--So you're paid_] Theobald. Seb. _Ha, ha, ha!_
    Ant. _So you'r paid_ Ff. Ant. _So you've paid_ Capell.
  81, 82: Seb. _His ... too_] Edd. Ant. _His ... harp._
    Seb. _He ... too_ Ff.
  88: _Ay._] I. Ff. _Ay?_ Pope.
  96: _sir, my doublet_] F1. _my doublet, sir_ F2 F3 F4.
  113: _stroke_] F1 F2 F3. _strokes_ F4.
  124: _Weigh'd_] _Sway'd_ S. Verges conj.
  _at_] _as_ Collier MS.]
  125: _o' the_] _the_ Pope.
  _should_] _she'd_ Malone.
  129: _The fault's your own_] _the fault's your own_ (at the end
    of 128) Capell. _the fault's Your own_ Malone.
  137: _plantation_] _the plantation_ Rowe. _the planting_ Hanmer.
  139: _on't_] _of it_ Hanmer.
  144: _riches, poverty_] _wealth, poverty_ Pope. _poverty, riches_
    Capell.
  145: _contract, succession_] _succession, Contract_ Malone conj.
    _succession, None_ id. conj.
  146: _none_] _olives, none_ Hanmer.
  157: _its_] F3 F4. _it_ F1 F2. See note (VIII).
  162: _'Save_] F1 F2 F3. _Save_ F4. _God save_ Edd. conj.
  175: Enter ... invisible ... music.] Malone. Enter Ariel, playing
    solemn music. Ff. om. Pope. [Solemn music. Capell.
  181: [All sleep ... Ant.] Stage direction to the same effect,
    first inserted by Capell.
  182-189: Text as in Pope. In Ff. the lines begin _Would ... I find
    ... Do not ... It seldom ... We two ... While ... Thank._
  189: [Exit Ariel] Malone.
  192: _find not_ Pope. _find Not_ Ff.
  211: _so too, if heed_] _so too, if you heed_ Rowe.
    _so, if you heed_ Pope.
  212: _Trebles thee o'er_] _Troubles thee o'er_ Pope.
    _Troubles thee not_ Hanmer.
  222: _throes_] Pope. _throwes_ F1 F2 F3. _throws_ F4.
  _Thus, sir_] _Why then thus Sir_ Hanmer.
  226: _he's_] _he'as_ Hanmer. _he_ Johnson conj.
  227: _Professes to persuade_] om. Steevens.
  234: _doubt_] _drops_ Hanmer. _doubts_ Capell.
  241: _she that from whom_] Ff. _she from whom_ Rowe.
    _she for whom_ Pope. _she from whom coming_ Singer.
    _she that--from whom?_ Spedding conj. See note (IX).
  242: _all_] om. Pope.
  243: _And ... to perform_] _May ... perform_ Pope. _And by that
    destin'd to perform_ Musgrave conj. _(And that by destiny)
    to perform_ Staunton conj.
  244: _is_] F1. _in_ F2 F3 F4.
  245: _In_] _Is_ Pope.
  250: _to_] F1. _by_ F2 F3 F4.
  _Keep_] _Sleep_ Johnson conj.
  251: See note (X).
  267: _'twere_] _it were_ Singer.
  267-271: Pope ends the lines with _that? ... slipper ... bosom ...
    Milan ... molest ... brother._
  267: See note (XI).
  269: _twenty_] _Ten_ Pope.
  270: _stand_] _stood_ Hanmer.
  _candied_] _Discandy'd_ Upton conj.
  271: _And melt_] _Would melt_ Johnson conj. _Or melt_ id. conj.
  273, 274: _like, that's dead; Whom I, with_] _like, whom I With_
    Steevens (Farmer conj.).
  275: _whiles_] om. Pope.
  277: _morsel_] _Moral_ Warburton.
  280, 281: _business ... hour._] _hour ... business._ Farmer conj.
  282: _precedent_] Pope. _president_ Ff.
  _O_] om. Pope.
  [They talk apart] Capell.
  Re-enter Ariel invisible.] Capell. Enter Ariel with music and
    song. Ff.
  289: _you, his friend,_] _these, his friends_ Steevens
    (Johnson conj.).
  289, 290: _friend ... project dies ... them_] _friend ... projects
    dies ... you_ Hanmer. _friend ... projects die ... them_
    Malone conj. _friend ... project dies ... thee_ Dyce.
  298: [They wake.] Rowe.
  300: _this_] _thus_ Collier MS.
  307: _Gonzalo_] om. Pope.
  312: _verily_] _verity_ Pope.
  _upon our guard_] _on guard_ Pope.

Alonso, King of Naples, has washed up on shore with Antonio, Sebastian, Gonzalo, and attendant lords. Gonzalo tells everyone that they can balance their sorrow with comfort--at least they've survived the terrible shipwreck. Antonio and Sebastian amuse themselves by teasing Gonzalo mean-spiritedly and then, after the King silences him, betting on who will speak up first: Adrian or Gonzalo. It's Adrian, which means Antonio wins the wager. Interestingly, the two different sets of people see entirely different things when they survey the island. Gonzalo sees "lush and lusty grass," while Antonio and Sebastian only see a nasty, uninhabitable place--kind of like a glass half-full, glass half-empty deal. Adrian comes down somewhere in the middle. The island seems uninhabitable, and yet the air is sweet. Gonzalo, the eternal optimist, notes their clothes are as fresh as the first time they were worn for the marriage of Alonso's daughter, Claribel, to the King of Tunis, which, of course, Antonio and Sebastian dispute...as they dispute pretty much everything Gonzalo says. Gonzalo takes their snarkiness in stride. The King interrupts his bickering companions with his grief. He regrets that he married his daughter to a man in so far off a place--the voyage to visit her has cost him his son, and his daughter is so far away she might as well be dead, too. Francisco, an attendant lord, tries to reassure the King that Prince Ferdinand might still be alive, but the King won't hear any of this perky optimism. Sebastian takes the opportunity to confirm that his brother, the King, needs a good kick in the teeth. As the King grieves his two lost children, Sebastian points out that the King's loss is his own fault; even though everyone harassed King Alonso about it, he chose to marry his daughter to a far-off African instead of a closer European. Gonzalo gently tells Sebastian to hold off, and changes the subject back to the island, which shows itself to him as beautiful. Gonzalo begins to talk of what he would do if he were king of the island--there would be no trade in money, no politicians, no schools, no rich or poor, no slavery, no inheritance, no dividing up the land, no metal, corn, wine or oil , and no occupation of any kind--just idle, wholesome, idyllic men and women living happily. Brain Snack: Gonzalo's big speech is based on a famous passage from John Florio's 1603 translation of an essay called "Of Cannibals" by Montaigne. Gonzalo's people would live off of the bounty of everything nature brings forth, and he announces he would govern to excel the Golden Age . Antonio and Sebastian make snide comments and the King tells everyone to pipe down,as they're all talking nonsense. Ariel enters playing a song, and everyone suddenly drifts off to sleep, lulled by the music, except for Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio. Antonio and Sebastian agree they will keep watch over the King while he sleeps, as they are not at all sleepy, and wonder what happened to make everyone pass out so quickly. Antonio, who we know took his brother's dukedom through treachery, doesn't waste any time before suggesting to Sebastian that all that stands between Sebastian and the crown is the sleeping King. Further, Antonio claims sleep is a sort of death; it would be easy for them to kill the King while he slumbers, and convince the others of Sebastian's noble title. Sebastian quibbles a bit, and asks if Antonio's conscience doesn't bother him for stealing his brother's title. Antonio replies that he's led by practicality, not conscience. Sebastian comes around, and two plotters agree that if Antonio draws his sword to kill the King, Sebastian will draw on Gonzalo, and Sebastian's path to power will be clear. As the two unsheathe their swords, Ariel enters and whispers in Gonzalo's ear of their treachery, waking him up. Gonzalo quickly wakes the King, and everyone rises to find Sebastian and Antonio with their swords drawn. The two are surprised in the midst of their horrible act. They claim they heard the howling of lions and only drew their swords to protect the King. King Alonso is freaked out by the possibility of lions and, not knowing Antonio and Sebastian's wicked plan, Alonso suggests they all leave the place at once to see if they can find his son. Ariel pledges to tattle to Prospero about Sebastian and Antonio's wickedness. Meanwhile, he will help the King safely seek the Prince.

This scene opens with all the passengers from the ship, except for Ferdinand, gathered on stage. Gonzalo begins with a speech celebrating their survival of the storm and their relative safety on the island, but King Alonso cannot be cheered because he is sure that his missing son, Ferdinand, has drowned. In the meantime, Antonio and Sebastian whisper among themselves and belittle both Alonso's grief and Gonzalo's cheer. When Antonio and Sebastian join the general conversation around the king, they make no attempt to soothe him. Instead, they tell Alonso that he should not have permitted his daughter to marry the African. Sebastian tells Alonso that, had he not permitted the marriage, the royal party would not have been at sea and, thus, never in the storm. In short, Ferdinand would still be alive if Alonso had acted properly. These are harsh words to the grieving father, and Gonzalo gently chastises Sebastian for his insensitivity. Ariel now enters, unseen by the group on stage, and puts all of them to sleep, except for Sebastian and Antonio. Left awake, Antonio and Sebastian devise a plot in which Sebastian will seize his brother's crown, much as Antonio had years earlier seized his brother's title and property. Although Sebastian has some concerns of conscience, Antonio dismisses such worries and urges action while everyone is asleep. Sebastian needs little convincing, and with Antonio, the two draw their swords and advance on the sleeping king and his party. At this moment, Ariel takes action. He awakens Gonzalo in time to prevent the murders. Antonio and Sebastian quickly concoct a story to explain their drawn swords, warning of great noise, as if from bulls or lions. Alonso is easily convinced of his brother's sincerity, and the scene ends with the royal party leaving the stage in search of Ferdinand.

This act better defines the personalities of the king's party and more clearly establishes the good characters from the bad. Alonso's first thought is for his son's well-being. In Act I, Prospero's tale of Alonso's complicity in his personal tragedy created an image of an uncaring ruler, one who was willing to overlook Antonio's deceit as long as it was beneficial to the king. But now, the picture is that of a grief-stricken father, beyond comfort. Alonso says little, but Gonzalo's efforts to care for and cheer his king, and the efforts of Adrian and Francisco to comfort their king, reflect well on Alonso's character. Gonzalo's character is also realized in more depth than in Act I, where his attention was focused on the storm and on the boatswain's insolence. Beyond the efforts to comfort and reassure his king, Gonzalo relates a vision of a utopian society. In this society, he would be king. There would be no commerce or law and no servant class. No one would grow food, and no one would work. Nature would simply create all that men needed. This vision reveals that Gonzalo, too, has some concerns about authority and privilege. In Gonzalo's vision, there would be no inherited wealth, and land would not be enclosed. Thus, there would be no aristocracy and no country estates. In short, the source of many of the conflicts that exist in English society would be eliminated. Gonzalo wants the authority that Alonso holds, since Gonzalo would be king in this visionary world, but he lacks the impetus to put his dreams into actions, as Antonio and Sebastian would do. In spite of his dreams of personal grandeur, Gonzalo is capable of seeing the positive aspects of their situation. He alone realizes that their survival of the storm is an achievement. He is thankful that they have landed on such a lovely island, and he remains hopeful that Ferdinand has survived. Gonzalo's outlook is positive in many ways, but his utopian dream indicates that there is a complexity to his personality. On the surface he appears happy with his situation, but his dreams of being king reveal that he is not completely satisfied with his lot in life. In contrast, Antonio and Sebastian's characters are developing as unpleasant and arrogant. Their sarcastic asides counter Gonzalo's good humor. They justly point out the flaws in Gonzalo's utopian dream, but they go beyond pointing out the flaws to compete between themselves to see who can devise the cruelest ridicule of both Alonso and Gonzalo. The two are reminiscent of schoolboys, who giggle and whisper in the back of a classroom, in defiance of their teacher. And like schoolboys, Antonio and Sebastian are capable of cruelty, as when they tell Alonso that had he not married his daughter to the African, they would not be on this journey and Ferdinand would not be drowned. They are more than thoughtless and cruel, since they are also capable of forming a conspiracy to murder their king and Sebastian's brother. Sebastian and Antonio's action hearkens back to the scene between the boatswain and Alonso in Act I. Alonso is king and represents authority. To plot his murder and to seize the crown is to usurp authority given by God. In England, the idea that a king was anointed by god was a crucial point in maintaining authority over the people. To kill God's representative on earth was a rebellion against the highest authority in the heavens. These two conspirators seek greater freedom and power than they are entitled to, and so they plot a coup. However, they forget that they are stranded on this island, with no kingdom to assume. Their plot to make Sebastian king neglects to ask king of what? They are far from Naples, with little expectation of rescue. Indeed, they never mention rescue, and thus, their plot to murder the king and seize his title would make Sebastian king of nothing. The blending of illusion and reality, which was created in Act I with the imaginary storm, is carried forward in this scene, with Gonzalo's observation that their clothing is unharmed by the salt water, appearing as it did before the storm occurred. Gonzalo envisions a utopia, but the impossibility of such a thing happening is best illustrated by Antonio and Sebastian's plot. Even when there is no reason to plot a murder, they do so. It is in their nature, and one reason why Gonzalo's vision lacks reality is simply because it neglects to consider human nature, which fails to bow to illusion. The party's whole existence on the island is an illusion and nothing is as it appears. Behind the scene and watching and manipulating all the action is Prospero. Although he never appears in this scene, he is very much present, functioning as a god-like entity. Antonio and Sebastian's swords are stayed because a higher authority prevents their actions. Prospero functions as a god would, protecting the innocent and guiding the action. However, Prospero is not a god, and that, perhaps, is the greatest illusion of all. Glossary tawny brownish-yellow; here used to mean that the sun has turned the ground a parched brown color. rate opinion. bourn a limit; boundary. Here used to mean that no land would be divided among landowners. foison plenty; here, specifically, an abundance of produce. hereditary sloth the natural inclination of a younger brother to be lazy, according to Sebastian, who sees the lack of a hereditary title as a reason to achieve nothing on his own. feater more graceful. Here, Antonio's new rank -- and clothes that befit it -- looks graceful on him. kibe a chapped or ulcerated sore, esp. on the heel. If Antonio's conscience were a sore on his foot, Antonio might put on a slipper.


ACT IV. SCENE I.

_Before PROSPERO'S cell._

  _Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA._

_Pros._ If I have too austerely punish'd you,
Your compensation makes amends; for I
Have given you here a third of mine own life,
Or that for which I live; who once again
I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations                              5
Were but my trials of thy love, and thou
Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore Heaven,
I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,
Do not smile at me that I boast her off,
For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise,                   10
And make it halt behind her.

_Fer._                     I do believe it
Against an oracle.

_Pros._          Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition
Worthily purchased, take my daughter: but
If thou dost break her virgin-knot before                           15
All sanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy rite be minister'd,
No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall
To make this contract grow; but barren hate,
Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew                         20
The union of your bed with weeds so loathly
That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed,
As Hymen's lamps shall light you.

_Fer._                          As I hope
For quiet days, fair issue and long life,
With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den,                       25
The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion
Our worser Genius can, shall never melt
Mine honour into lust, to take away
The edge of that day's celebration
When I shall think, or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd,               30
Or Night kept chain'd below.

_Pros._                    Fairly spoke.
Sit, then, and talk with her; she is thine own.
What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!

  _Enter ARIEL._

_Ari._ What would my potent master? here I am.

_Pros._ Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service               35
Did worthily perform; and I must use you
In such another trick. Go bring the rabble,
O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place:
Incite them to quick motion; for I must
Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple                           40
Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise,
And they expect it from me.

_Ari._                    Presently?

_Pros._ Ay, with a twink.

_Ari._ Before you can say, 'come,' and 'go,'
            And breathe twice, and cry, 'so, so,'                   45
            Each one, tripping on his toe,
            Will be here with mop and mow.
            Do you love me, master? no?

_Pros._ Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach
Till thou dost hear me call.

_Ari._                     Well, I conceive.    [_Exit._            50

_Pros._ Look thou be true; do not give dalliance
Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw
To the fire i' the blood: be more abstemious,
Or else, good night your vow!

_Fer._                      I warrant you, sir;
The white cold virgin snow upon my heart                            55
Abates the ardour of my liver.

_Pros._                      Well.
Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary,
Rather than want a spirit: appear, and pertly!
No tongue! all eyes! be silent.                  [_Soft music._

    _Enter IRIS._

  _Iris._ Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas                 60
    Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease;
    Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
    And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep;
    Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims,
    Which spongy April at thy best betrims,                         65
    To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom-groves,
    Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,
    Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard;
    And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard,
    Where thou thyself dost air;--the queen o' the sky,             70
    Whose watery arch and messenger am I,
    Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace,
    Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,
    To come and sport:--her peacocks fly amain:
    Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.                         75

    _Enter CERES._

  _Cer._ Hail, many-colour'd messenger, that ne'er
    Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;
    Who, with thy saffron wings, upon my flowers
    Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers;
    And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown                    80
    My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down,
    Rich scarf to my proud earth;--why hath thy queen
    Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green?

  _Iris._ A contract of true love to celebrate;
    And some donation freely to estate                              85
    On the blest lovers.

  _Cer._             Tell me, heavenly bow,
    If Venus or her son, as thou dost know,
    Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot
    The means that dusky Dis my daughter got,
    Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company                       90
    I have forsworn.

  _Iris._        Of her society
    Be not afraid: I met her Deity
    Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son
    Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done
    Some wanton charm upon this man and maid,                       95
    Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid
    Till Hymen's torch be lighted: but in vain;
    Mars's hot minion is returned again;
    Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,
    Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows,          100
    And be a boy right out.

  _Cer._                High'st queen of state,
    Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait.

    _Enter JUNO._

  _Juno._ How does my bounteous sister? Go with me
    To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be,
    And honour'd in their issue.         [_They sing:_             105

  _Juno._ Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,
            Long continuance, and increasing,
            Hourly joys be still upon you!
            Juno sings her blessings on you.

  _Cer._  Earth's increase, foison plenty,                         110
            Barns and garners never empty;
            Vines with clustering bunches growing;
            Plants with goodly burthen bowing;
            Spring come to you at the farthest
            In the very end of harvest!                            115
            Scarcity and want shall shun you;
            Ceres' blessing so is on you.

_Fer._ This is a most majestic vision, and
Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold
To think these spirits?

_Pros._               Spirits, which by mine art                   120
I have from their confines call'd to enact
My present fancies.

_Fer._            Let me live here ever;
So rare a wonder'd father and a wife
Makes this place Paradise.

    [_Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment._

_Pros._                  Sweet, now, silence!
Juno and Ceres whisper seriously;                                  125
There's something else to do: hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marr'd.

  _Iris._ You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the windring brooks,
            With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks,
            Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land      130
            Answer your summons; Juno does command:
            Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
            A contract of true love; be not too late.

    _Enter certain Nymphs._

            You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,
            Come hither from the furrow, and be merry:             135
            Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on,
            And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
            In country footing.

    _Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join with the
    Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards the end whereof PROSPERO
    starts suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a strange, hollow,
    and confused noise, they heavily vanish._

_Pros._ [_Aside_] I had forgot that foul conspiracy
Of the beast Caliban and his confederates                          140
Against my life: the minute of their plot
Is almost come. [_To the Spirits._] Well done! avoid; no more!

_Fer._ This is strange: your father's in some passion
That works him strongly.

_Mir._                 Never till this day
Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd.                       145

_Pros._ You do look, my son, in a moved sort,
As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:                                150
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,                        155
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd;
Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled:
Be not disturb'd with my infirmity:                                160
If you be pleased, retire into my cell,
And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk,
To still my beating mind.

_Fer._ _Mir._           We wish your peace.    [_Exeunt._

_Pros._ Come with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel: come.

  _Enter ARIEL._

_Ari._ Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure?              165

_Pros._                                             Spirit,
We must prepare to meet with Caliban.

_Ari._ Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres,
I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear'd
Lest I might anger thee.

_Pros._ Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?           170

_Ari._ I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;
So full of valour that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces; beat the ground
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor;                       175
At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears,
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses
As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears,
That, calf-like, they my lowing follow'd through
Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns,           180
Which enter'd their frail shins: at last I left them
I' the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,
There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake
O'erstunk their feet.

_Pros._             This was well done, my bird.
Thy shape invisible retain thou still:                             185
The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither,
For stale to catch these thieves.

_Ari._                          I go, I go.    [_Exit._

_Pros._ A devil, a born devil, on whose nature
Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;                         190
And as with age his body uglier grows,
So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,
Even to roaring.

  _Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c._

Come, hang them on this line.

  _PROSPERO and ARIEL remain, invisible. Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO,
  and TRINCULO, all wet._

_Cal._ Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not
Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell.                        195

_Ste._ Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless
fairy, has done little better than played the Jack with us.

_Trin._ Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at which my
nose is in great indignation.

_Ste._ So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should               200
take a displeasure against you, look you,--

_Trin._ Thou wert but a lost monster.

_Cal._ Good my lord, give me thy favour still.
Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to
Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly.             205
All's hush'd as midnight yet.

_Trin._ Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,--

_Ste._ There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that,
monster, but an infinite loss.

_Trin._ That's more to me than my wetting: yet this is             210
your harmless fairy, monster.

_Ste._ I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears for
my labour.

_Cal._ Prithee, my king, be quiet. See'st thou here,
This is the mouth o' the cell: no noise, and enter.                215
Do that good mischief which may make this island
Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,
For aye thy foot-licker.

_Ste._ Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody
thoughts.                                                          220

_Trin._ O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano!
look what a wardrobe here is for thee!

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

_Trin._ O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery.
O King Stephano!                                                   225

_Ste._ Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll
have that gown.

_Trin._ Thy Grace shall have it.

_Cal._ The dropsy drown this fool! what do you mean
To dote thus on such luggage? Let's alone,                         230
And do the murder first: if he awake,
From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches,
Make us strange stuff.

_Ste._ Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not this
my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: now, jerkin,          235
you are like to lose your hair, and prove a bald jerkin.

_Trin._ Do, do: we steal by line and level, an't like your
Grace.

_Ste._ I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment for't:
wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this country.       240
'Steal by line and level' is an excellent pass of pate;
there's another garment for't.

_Trin._ Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers,
and away with the rest.

_Cal._ I will have none on't: we shall lose our time,              245
And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes
With foreheads villanous low.

_Ste._ Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this
away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you out
of my kingdom: go to, carry this.                                  250

_Trin._ And this.

_Ste._ Ay, and this.

  _A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of
  dogs and hounds, and hunt them about, PROSPERO and ARIEL setting
  them on._

_Pros._ Hey, Mountain, hey!

_Ari._ Silver! there it goes, Silver!

_Pros._ Fury, fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark, hark!              255
                        [_Cal., Ste., and Trin. are driven out._

Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints
With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews
With aged cramps; and more pinch-spotted make them
Then pard or cat o' mountain.

_Ari._                      Hark, they roar!

_Pros._ Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour                   260
Lie at my mercy all mine enemies:
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little
Follow, and do me service.    [_Exeunt._

  Notes: IV, 1.

  3: _a third_] _a thread_ Theobald. _the thread_ Williams conj.
  4: _who_] _whom_ Pope.
  7: _test_] F1. _rest_ F2 F3 F4.
  9: _off_] F2 F3 F4. _of_ F1.
  11: _do_] om. Pope.
  13: _gift_] Rowe. _guest_ Ff.
  14: _but_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
  25: _'tis_] _is_ Capell.
  30: _Phoebus'_] _Phoebus_ F1. _Phoedus_ F2 F3. _Phoeduus_ F4.
  34: SCENE II. Pope.
  41: _vanity_] _rarity_ S. Walker conj.
  48: _no_?] _no_. Rowe.
  53: _abstemious_] _abstenious_ F1.
  60: SCENE III. A MASQUE. Pope.]
  _thy_] F1. _the_ F2 F3 F4.
  64: _pioned_] _pionied_ Warburton. _peonied_ Steevens.
  _twilled_] _tulip'd_ Rowe. _tilled_ Capell (Holt conj.). _lilied_
    Steevens.]
  66: _broom-groves_] _brown groves_ Hanmer.
  68: _pole-clipt_] _pale-clipt_ Hanmer.
  72: After this line Ff. have the stage direction, '_Juno descends._'
  74: _her_] Rowe. _here_ Ff.
  83: _short-grass'd_] F3 F4. _short gras'd_ F1 F2. _short-grass_ Pope.
  96: _bed-right_] _bed-rite_ Singer.
  101: _High'st_] _High_ Pope.
  102: Enter JUNO] om. Ff.
  110: Cer.] Theobald. om. Ff.
  _foison_] F1 _and foison_ F2 F3 F4.
  114: _Spring_] _Rain_ Collier MS.
  119: _charmingly_] _charming lay_ Hanmer. _charming lays_ Warburton.
    _Harmoniously charming_ Steevens conj.
  121: _from their_] F1. _from all their_ F2 F3 F4.
  123: _wife_] F1 (var.). Rowe. _wise_ F1 (var.) F2 F3 F4.
  124: _Makes_] _make_ Pope.
  _sweet, now, silence_] _now, silence, sweet_ Hanmer.
  124: In Ff. the stage direction [Juno, &c. follows line 127.
    Capell made the change.
  128: _windring_] _winding_ Rowe. _wand'ring_ Steevens.
  129: _sedged_] _sedge_ Collier MS.
  136: _holiday_] _holly day_ F1 F2 F3. _holy-day_ F4.
  139: SCENE IV. Pope.
  143: _This is_] _This'_ (for This 's) S. Walker conj.]
  _strange_] _most strange_ Hanmer.
  145: Ff put a comma after _anger_. Warburton omitted it.
  146: _do_] om. Pope. See note (XVI).
  151: _this_] F1. _their_ F2 F3 F4. _th' air visions_ Warburton.
  156: _rack_] F3 F4. _racke_ F1 F2. _track_ Hanmer. _wreck_ Dyce
    (Malone conj.).
  163: _your_] F1 F2 F3. _you_ F4.
  164: _I thank thee, Ariel: come._] _I thank you:--Ariel, come._
    Theobald.
  169: _Lest_] F4. _Least_ F1 F2 F3.
  170: _Say again_] _Well, say again_ Capell.
  180: _furzes_] Rowe. _firzes_ Ff.
  181: _shins_] _skins_ Warburton conj. (note, V. 1. p. 87).
  182: _filthy-mantled_] _filthy mantled_ Ff. _filth-ymantled_
    Steevens conj.
  184: _feet_] _fear_ Spedding conj.
  190: _all, all_] _are all_ Malone conj.
  193: _them on_ Rowe. _on them_ Ff.
  Prospero ... invisible. Theobald, Capell. om. Ff.
  194: SCENE V. Pope.
  230: _Let's alone_] _Let's along_ Theobald. _Let it alone_ Hanmer.
    _Let 't alone_ Collier. See note (XVII).
  246: _to apes_] om. _to_ Pope.
  255: Stage direction added by Theobald.
  256: _they_] F1 F3 F4. _thou_ F2.
  261: _Lie_] Rowe. _lies_ Ff.

Back at Prospero's cell, Prospero comes clean to Ferdinand. He says the mean trials he put Ferdinand through were only to test the guy's love for Miranda. Prospero says Miranda is a third of his life, and he wouldn't give her up to a man he hadn't tested. However, now that he's sure Ferdinand is a good guy, he can have Miranda for his wife. Ferdinand accepts gladly, but not before Prospero warns him that if he "break her virgin-knot" before all the sacred ceremonies of marriage, the heavens will rain down misery on him, and they will be assured an unhappy life. Ferdinand assures him that, even if he's in the darkest, steamiest place, he'll keep his paws off Miranda so they can have a special wedding night. He adds that the wedding day will be agonizingly long and says that he'll be very anxious to get Miranda back to the honeymoon suite after the ceremony is over, if you know what we mean. This is definitely weird for Ferdinand to be talking about with Miranda's dad. Satisfied with his pre-wedding chat with Ferdinand, Prospero calls in Ariel, who has more work to do. Prospero wants to show some of his "art" to the young couple. As an engagement gift, Prospero is going to whip up a little "masque" . Ariel then pledges to perform, and asks, like a pet, if he is loved. Prospero replies that Ariel is loved dearly. Soft music begins playing and a series of gods appear before the young couple. Iris, goddess of the rainbow and messenger of Juno , calls upon Ceres, goddess of agriculture, to show herself and help with the entertainment. Ceres shows up, and asks why she's been summoned. Iris tells her it's to celebrate true love. That's cool, Ceres, says, but she wants to know if Cupid and Venus will be there--she has beef with them, since they plotted the way for Ceres' daughter, Proserpine to be stolen by Pluto , the god of the underworld. Iris assures Ceres that Cupid and Venus are both busy, and Juno then shows up to shower blessings on the couple along with Ceres. Ferdinand and Miranda are amazed, and Prospero says these are spirits he has called up on behalf of the young lovers. Nymphs and land reapers are then summoned, and they perform a beautiful dance. We interrupt this magical performance for a brain snack: In the winter of 1612-1613, The Tempest was performed in honor of the marriage of King James I's daughter Elizabeth to Frederick . Some scholars think that Prospero's "masque" was added by Shakespeare just for this performance, but other critics say there's no evidence that it wasn't an original part of the play. Suddenly Prospero jumps with surprise, and all the spirits vanish. Prospero has realized that, oopsy-daisy, he's forgotten Caliban's plot against his life! He'd better stop messing around and get to halting that scheme. Responding to Ferdinand's surprise at his sudden change in mood, Prospero gives a beautiful speech that these wonders , much like life, will melt into thin air eventually. He says, "We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep." Prospero sends Ferdinand and Miranda into his cell while he plans for his next move. Prospero has a chat with Ariel, who says that Stefano, Trinculo, and Caliban were hot with rage when he last saw them. Ariel led them to just outside Prospero's cell with his music, and left them wading in a filthy, scummy pool. Prospero instructs Ariel to set his nice linens and fineries outside the cell as bait for the thieves and would-be murderers. He curses Caliban for being a devil. Prospero promises to plague all of the men plotting against his life. You do not want to get on this guy's bad list. Caliban, Trinculo, and Stefano have escaped from the nasty pool, and while they all smell of "horse piss," the greatest tragedy was losing their wine bottle. Caliban assures them that their prize will be worth it, and eggs them on to Prospero's cell. Just as Stefano begins to have thoughts of bloody murder, Trinculo points out what nice things there are for a king's wardrobe hanging outside, and the two get distracted. Caliban panics at their lack of focus; he is sure Prospero will wake up, find them all out, and torture them. Sure enough, Ariel and Prospero conjure up spirit-dogs and hounds that chase the three off. Prospero promises they'll have plenty of cramps, pinches, and convulsions as they run away, hunted by the spirits.

Prospero, acknowledging that he has been harsh, now promises a reward that will rectify the young lovers' momentary suffering. Recognizing Ferdinand and Miranda's love for one another -- they have passed the trials that Prospero has set before them -- he offers Miranda to Ferdinand as his wife. Prospero next calls Ariel to help stage a celebration of the betrothal. The celebration includes a masque, presented by the spirits of the island. Suddenly Prospero remembers the three conspirators who have set out to murder him and calls a halt to the masque. He then summons Ariel, who reports that he led the three men, all of whom are very drunk, through a briar patch and into a filthy pond, where he left them wallowing. Prospero instructs Ariel to leave garish clothing on a tree to tempt the men. Soon Caliban, Stefano, and Trinculo appear, foul smelling and wet. Stefano and Trinculo lament the loss of their bottles but are much cheered when they see the clothing hanging nearby. The two ignore Caliban's pleas to continue on their mission and his warnings that their hesitation will lead Prospero to catch them. At that moment, Prospero and Ariel enter with spirits, disguised as hunters and hounds. The three conspirators flee, with the spirits in pursuit. Prospero, acknowledging the power he now holds over all his enemies, promises Ariel that he shall soon be free. Within a few minutes of the opening of this scene, the betrothal is complete, and Miranda and Ferdinand's future has been determined to Prospero's satisfaction. The virtue and honor of these young people transcends the actions of their fathers and, in this betrothal, lies the redemption of their families. For the first time, Prospero can fully reveal his true nature. Finally, there is no need to be punitive or autocratic, and he can simply enjoy his daughter's happiness. For these few moments, the audience can witness what Prospero is like without the weight of revenge or control motivating his actions. Even in his gentleness and goodwill toward Ferdinand, Prospero does not forget that he is still Miranda's father, and as such, he is responsible for her until she is safely wed. Consequently, a significant amount of time is spent warning Ferdinand that he must control his lust until the wedding takes place. Prospero warns the young man that "barren hate, / Sour-eyed disdain, and discord," will be his reward if he cannot control his lust . All of this is in keeping with the expected parental role. Miranda is even more innocent than most young women, having had none of the socialization that other young women would experience. Because of her isolation, she is more vulnerable, and her father is aware of her purity of heart. However, he is also a father, facing the imminent loss of his only child, and so his excessive warnings to Ferdinand to control his lust are to be expected. The betrothal ceremony is sealed with a masque, and, in keeping with the motif of reality and illusion, this masque draws on mythical goddesses and on Greek and Roman mythology. The goddesses are selected for their symbolism and connections to nature and represent the promise of fertility and fecundity, heavenly harmony, and an eternal springtime of love. As the goddess of the rainbow, Iris is the promise of spring rains leading to a bountiful harvest. As a messenger from Juno, she also represents the gods' blessing on this betrothal. When Juno appears, her presence affirms the blessing of the heavens, and since Juno is the goddess of marriage and childbirth, her presence is the promise of a happy union for the couple and a blessing of many children. Finally, Ceres' appearance also promises nature's blessing on this marriage. Together, the goddesses are the promise of celestial harmony, fruitful harvests, and eternal seasons without winter. Venus, with her emphasis on abandon and sexual love is deliberately excluded, since the focus of the masque is on honorable marriage. The pastoral tradition focuses on a nostalgic image of the peace and simplicity of the life of shepherds and other rural folk in an idealized natural setting. Pastoral poetry is characterized by a state of contentment and a focus on the contemplative life. As is the case with most masques, Prospero's masque focuses on these pastoral motifs, with reapers and nymphs celebrating the fecundity of the land. The land is green, the harvesters sunburned, and the harvest worth celebrating. Love is innocent and romantic and not sexual. The country life, with its abundance of harvests and peaceful existence is an idealized world that ignores the realities of country life with its many hardships. But a wedding masque is not the time to remind the young couple of the possible hardships that they will face. Instead, Prospero focuses on the blessings of a happy marriage and the contentment that Ferdinand and Miranda will bring one another. At the conclusion of the masque, Prospero addresses Ferdinand and tells him that "We are such stuff / As dreams are made on" . This is a reminder that the masque, with all its heavenly creatures, is not real. Like the masque, life, too, will come to its inevitable end. Prospero reminds Ferdinand that each man's life is framed by dreams. The evidence of that life, with its earthly possessions, is only temporary. Again, this points to the role of the young couple as redeemers for their father's sins. Alonso, and through him, Antonio and Sebastian, have placed too much emphasis on worldly possessions and titles. Even Prospero, with his focus on books, has forgotten that they are also only temporary vestiges in this life. This reminder that corporeal riches are only temporary also seems to be directed toward Stefano and Trinculo. Many scholars and critics would like to see Shakespeare's autobiographical presence in Prospero's words. Those who think that Shakespeare is allowing Prospero to speak his farewell to the stage find "Our revels now are ended" to be a poignant reminder of the temporal plight of all men's lives. Since The Tempest comes near the end of Shakespeare's career and life, it is very tempting to read autobiography into Prospero's words. Still, his words may only be an impassioned reminder for each man to value life and accept its temporal limitations. At the scene's end, Prospero must shrug off the mantle of fatherhood and assume the cloak of ruler and deal with the three conspirators who plot his death: Caliban, Stefano, and Trinculo. The punishment that Ariel reports is more nuisance than painful, another reminder that Prospero's retribution includes no serious injuries. Aside from a few scratches, the trip through the briar patch and the putrid pond only injure the men's pride. Even the spirit hunters and dogs that give Caliban, Stefano, and Trinculo chase are little more than air, not capable of causing their prey any harm. This mild punishment reflects Prospero's inherent good nature and his willingness to forgive his enemies. He will make them suffer for their plotting, but he will do them no real injury. Although it was not always clear earlier in the play, by this act, Prospero's true nature, his goodness and his humanity, have become clear to the audience. Glossary genius either of two spirits, one good and one evil, supposed to influence one's destiny. Phoebus' steeds the mythological horses that drew the chariot of the sun. Here, the suggestion is that they are lame from the long day and overriding. vanity reference to an illusion or trick that Prospero has created. abstemious moderate, especially in eating and drinking; temperate. Prospero is warning Ferdinand once again about resisting lust before the wedding occurs. bring a corollary here, meaning to bring too many spirits rather than not enough. amain at or with great speed; here, Miranda's peacocks fly quickly. sicklemen reference to nymphs disguised as harvesters. unbacked not broken to the saddle: said of a horse. trumpery something showy but worthless; here, the gaudy clothing designated as bait for the three conspirators. frippery here, an old clothing shop. dropsy a disease characterized by the accumulation of fluid in the connective tissues, resulting in swelling. jerkin a short, closefitting jacket, often sleeveless. This scene opens with Ariel revealing to Prospero that Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio are remorseful, worried, and desperate. Gonzalo is worried and grief-stricken at his king's pain. Prospero reassures Ariel that he will be compassionate in dealing with his enemies and asks that Ariel bring the group to him. While he is waiting for the king and his party to appear, Prospero soliloquizes about what he has accomplished with magic and, at the soliloquy's end, promises that he will now give up his magic, bury his magic staff, and drown his magic book at sea. Almost immediately, Ariel enters with the royal party, who appear to be in a trance, and places them within the magic circle that Prospero had earlier drawn. With a few chanted words, the spell is removed. Prospero, clothed in the garments of the duke of Milan -- his rightful position -- appears before them. In a gesture of reconciliation, Prospero embraces Alonso, who is filled with remorse and immediately gives up Prospero's dukedom. Gonzalo is also embraced in turn, and then Prospero turns to Sebastian and Antonio. Prospero tells them that he will not charge them as traitors, at this time. Antonio is forgiven and required to renounce his claims on Prospero's dukedom. While Alonso continues to mourn the loss of his son, Prospero relates that he too has lost his child, his daughter. But he means that he has lost her in marriage and pulls back a curtain to reveal Ferdinand and Miranda playing chess. Ferdinand explains to his father that he is betrothed to Miranda and that this event occurred while he thought his father dead. Alonso quickly welcomes Miranda and says he will be a second father to his son's affianced. At the sight of the couple, Gonzalo begins to cry and thanks God for having worked such a miracle. Ariel enters with the master of the boat and boatswain. Although the ship lay in harbor and in perfect shape, the puzzled men cannot explain how any of this has occurred. Alonso is also mystified, but Prospero tells him not to trouble his mind with such concerns. Next, Ariel leads in Caliban, Stefano, and Trinculo, who are still drunk. Prospero explains that these men have robbed him and plotted to murder him. Caliban immediately repents and promises to seek grace. The three conspirators, who have sobered somewhat since confronted with Prospero and the king, are sent to decorate Prospero's cell. Prospero invites his guests to spend the night with him, where he will tell them of his adventures and of his life during these past 12 years. Ariel's last duty to Prospero is to provide calm seas when they sail the next morning.

This final scene indicates the extent of Prospero's forgiveness and provides an example of humanity toward one's enemies. Before he confronts his enemies, Prospero tells Ariel that "The rarer action is / In virtue than in vengeance" . That is, it is better to forgive than to hate one's enemies. This is the example that Prospero provides in reuniting everyone in this final scene. When he emerges from his trance, Alonso moves quickly to embrace Prospero, and just as quickly, he renounces his claims to Prospero's dukedom. This is the behavior the audience expects of Ferdinand's father, and it is what Prospero requires to resolve this conflict. Ferdinand is an honorable young man, filled with love and charity, and it is reasonable to expect that he learned these values from his father, even if his father has, on occasion, forgotten them. Alonso is honestly delighted in Ferdinand's engagement and welcomes Miranda with authentic grace. It is to be predicted that he is happy at recovering his son, but he is also clearly pleased to have gained a daughter. These spontaneous actions reveal that Alonso is as humane and honest as Prospero. It is equally clear that Antonio and Sebastian each lack the humanity of their respective brothers. No apology is forthcoming from Antonio, and Sebastian thinks that Prospero is very likely the devil. Antonio never directly addresses Prospero, not even to justify his previous actions. And although both Prospero and Miranda might have died when cast out on to the sea some 12 years earlier, Antonio has no words for his niece. In spite of the obvious absence of regret from his brother, Prospero is true to his promise and seeks no revenge against Antonio. There is no reason to assume that shame restrains Antonio from speaking, and in all likelihood, he only regrets having been caught. Although Prospero warns his brother that he might still charge him with treason in the future, this warning is unlikely to restrain such a recalcitrant as Antonio. Prospero's humanity is clearly obvious in his treatment of Antonio, whom he calls traitor but whom he declines to treat as a traitor. Critics and audience might be tempted to label Antonio as an unnatural brother, as would also be true for Sebastian. But their cruelty only indicates that nature provides for both goodness and evil. In the Christian world of the Shakespeare's time, evil is chosen, not destined, and nature provides for all outcomes, those who are virtuous and their counterparts, those who are corrupt. Hence, evil siblings are as natural as good siblings. Although the self-serving behavior of Antonio and Sebastian may be despicable, they are still a part of the natural world. Caliban is also from the natural world, although as the child of a witch and devil. He is certainly different from the other humans on the island, but in this final scene, he displays more humanity than many of Prospero's "civilized" enemies. Antonio's only remark in this whole scene is to suggest that Caliban provides an opportunity to make money . Antonio and Sebastian echo Stefano and Trinculo's earlier notion of exhibiting Caliban for profit, and in doing so, they reaffirm the impression that even the upper classes can be as lacking in morals as the two examples of the lower class, a butler and a court jester. Caliban, however, has risen above his companions and willingly admits his errors. In admitting his fault, Caliban proves himself more honorable than those who are socially his superior, Antonio and Sebastian. Caliban is often celebrated as a natural man, one who is unspoiled by civilization. And yet, he easily embraces the worse that civilization has to offer. When exposed to Stefano and Trinculo, Caliban embraces their drunkenness and, in return, entices them to help plan a heinous crime. Many critics justify Caliban's actions by pointing to Prospero's persecution of Caliban. But nowhere in this play does Shakespeare validate this kind of revenge. Prospero may enslave Caliban, but he does not threaten his very existence. Certainly there is no way to justify slavery, and Shakespeare makes no attempt to do so. In the end, Prospero leaves Caliban to his island and to the natural world that he craves. The conclusion is about redemption, the personal redemption that so many of the participants reach. Caliban's regret during this final scene indicates he, too, has found the way to reconciliation. Gonzalo is one of the few participants who has no need to ask forgiveness nor any cause to regret his actions. Upon discovering that Ferdinand is alive and that he is betrothed to Miranda, Gonzalo quite properly thanks God, who has "chalked forth the way" . Gonzalo also sees the irony in Miranda's offspring inheriting all that was her father's and all that belongs to his enemy. He also observes that there is much that has been restored: Ferdinand to his father, and with him, a wife. But there is more. Prospero's dukedom has been restored, as has the ship and all its missing crew. Yet more important than people or objects, other essential components of civilized society have been restored: authority, harmony, and order. Even before this reconciliation scene occurs, Prospero has promised to put aside his magic and dispose of his magic book and staff, which are the source of his power. He has used magic to work in concert with nature, not to control or evoke evil. Now that he has his enemies under his control, Prospero permits compassion to replace magic. This putting away of his magic also signifies that Prospero's game is at an end. He has used magic to restore harmony and now needs it no more. The play ends with the promise of Ariel's freedom and the restoration of Prospero to a life filled with all that nature and God intended. Glossary mantle to enclose or envelop. furtherer an accomplice. rapier a slender two-edged sword used chiefly in thrusting. subtleties here, the illusions. requite to make return or repayment to for a benefit, injury, and so on; reward. tight and yare sound and ready. The ship is ready to sail. coragio take courage .