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.

King Alonso has landed on the island, with his brothers Sebastian and Antonio, noblemen Adrian and Francisco, and the councilor Gonzalo. Gonzalo tries to console Alonso upon their good fortune of surviving the shipwreckbut Alonso is grievednot only because his son Ferdinand is missing and presumed dead, but because he was returning from his daughter's wedding in Africa, and fears he will never see her again because of the distance. Antonio and Sebastian show great skill with mocking wordplay, and use this skill to stifle Gonzalo and Adrian's attempts to speak frankly to the rest of the party. Ariel's magic makes the party fall asleep, with the exception of Antonio and Sebastian. A strange seriousness, of Ariel's doing, falls upon Antonio and Sebastian. Antonio begins to concoct a plan to get his brother the kingship, which will be much easier if Ferdinand, the current heir, really is dead; and since Alonso's daughter is very far away in Tunis, Sebastian might be able to inherit the crown with only two murders, those of Alonso and Gonzalo. Ariel, however, hears to conspirators plan, and wakes Gonzalo with a warning of the danger he is in. Ariel intends to let Prospero know that the conspiracy has indeed been formed as he wished, and Prospero in turn will try to keep Gonzalo safe, out of appreciation for his past help in preserving the lives of Prospero and Miranda

While Ferdinand is falling in love with Miranda, Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, and other shipwrecked lords search for him on another part of the island. Alonso is quite despondent and unreceptive to the good-natured Gonzalo's attempts to cheer him up. Gonzalo meets resistance from Antonio and Sebastian as well. These two childishly mock Gonzalo's suggestion that the island is a good place to be and that they are all lucky to have survived. Alonso finally brings the repartee to a halt when he bursts out at Gonzalo and openly expresses regret at having married away his daughter in Tunis. Francisco, a minor lord, pipes up at this point that he saw Ferdinand swimming valiantly after the wreck, but this does not comfort Alonso. Sebastian and Antonio continue to provide little help. Sebastian tells his brother that he is indeed to blame for Ferdinand's death--if he had not married his daughter to an African , none of this would have happened. Gonzalo tells the lords that they are only making the situation worse and attempts to change the subject, discussing what he might do if he were the lord of the island. Antonio and Sebastian mock his utopian vision. Ariel then enters, playing "solemn music" , and gradually all but Sebastian and Antonio fall asleep. Seeing the vulnerability of his sleeping companions, Antonio tries to persuade Sebastian to kill his brother. He rationalizes this scheme by explaining that Claribel, who is now Queen of Tunis, is too far from Naples to inherit the kingdom should her father die, and as a result, Sebastian would be the heir to the throne. Sebastian begins to warm to the idea, especially after Antonio tells him that usurping Prospero's dukedom was the best move he ever made. Sebastian wonders aloud whether he will be afflicted by conscience, but Antonio dismisses this out of hand. Sebastian is at last convinced, and the two men draw their swords. Sebastian, however, seems to have second thoughts at the last moment and stops. While he and Antonio confer, Ariel enters with music, singing in Gonzalo's ear that a conspiracy is under way and that he should "Awake, awake!" . Gonzalo wakes and shouts "Preserve the King!" His exclamation wakes everyone else . Sebastian quickly concocts a story about hearing a loud noise that caused him and Antonio to draw their swords. Gonzalo is obviously suspicious but does not challenge the lords. The group continues its search for Ferdinand.

Analysis As in the storm scene in Act I, scene i, Shakespeare emphasizes and undercuts the capacity of the bare stage to create a convincing illusion throughout Act II, scene i. As the shipwrecked mariners look around the island, they describe it in poetry of great imagistic richness, giving the audience an imaginary picture of the setting of the play. Even so, they disagree about what they see, and even argue over what the island actually looks like. Adrian finds it to be of "subtle, tender, and delicate temperance," where "the air breathes upon us . . . most sweetly" . Gonzalo says that the grass is "lush and lusty" and "green" . Antonio and Sebastian, however, cynical to the last, refuse to let these descriptions rest in the audience's mind. They say that the air smells "as 'twere perfumed by a fen" , meaning a swamp, and that the ground "indeed is tawny" , or brown. The remarks of Antonio and Sebastian could be easily discounted as mere grumpiness, were it not for the fact that Gonzalo and Adrian do seem at times to be stretching the truth. .) Thus the bareness of the stage allows the beauty and other qualities of the island to be largely a matter of perspective. The island may be a paradise, but only if one chooses to see it that way. Shakespeare uses this ambiguous setting for several different purposes. First, the setting heightens the sense of wonder and mystery that surrounds the magical island. It also gives each audience member a great deal of freedom to imagine the island as he or she so chooses. Most importantly, however, it enables the island to work as a reflection of character--we know a great deal about different characters simply from how they choose to see the island. Hence the dark, sensitive Caliban can find it both a place of terror--as when he enters, frightened and overworked in Act II, scene ii--and of great beauty--as in his "the isle is full of noises" speech . Therefore, both Gonzalo  and Trinculo , colonially minded, are so easily able to imagine it as the site of their own utopian societies. Gonzalo's fantasy about the plantation he would like to build on the island is a remarkable poetic evocation of a utopian society, in which no one would work, all people would be equal and live off the land, and all women would be "innocent and pure." This vision indicates something of Gonzalo's own innocence and purity. Shakespeare treats the old man's idea of the island as a kind of lovely dream, in which the frustrations and obstructions of life  would be removed and all could live naturally and authentically. Though Gonzalo's idea is not presented as a practical possibility , Gonzalo's dream contrasts to his credit with the power-obsessed ideas of most of the other characters, including Prospero. Gonzalo would do away with the very master-servant motif that lies at the heart of The Tempest. The mockery dished out by Antonio and Sebastian reveals, by contrast, something of the noblemen's cynicism and lack of feeling. Where Gonzalo is simply grateful and optimistic about having survived the shipwreck, Antonio and Sebastian seem mainly to be annoyed by it, though not so annoyed that they stop their incessant jesting with each other. Gonzalo says that they are simply loudmouthed jokers, who "would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing" . By conspiring against the king, however, they reveal themselves as more sinister and greedier than Gonzalo recognizes, using their verbal wit to cover up their darker and more wicked impulses. However, their greediness for power is both foolish and clumsy. As they attempt to cover their treachery with the story of the "bellowing / Like bulls, or rather lions" , it seems hard to believe that Antonio ever could have risen successfully against his brother. The absurdly aggressive behavior of Antonio and Sebastian makes Prospero's exercise of power in the previous and following scenes seem necessary. It also puts Alonso in a sympathetic position. He is a potential victim of the duo's treachery, a fact that helps the audience believe his conversion when he reconciles with Prospero at the end.


SCENE II.

_Another part of the island._

  _Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard._

_Cal._ All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' the mire,                   5
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid 'em: but
For every trifle are they set upon me;
Sometime like apes, that mow and chatter at me,
And after bite me; then like hedgehogs, which                       10
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount
Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I
All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness.

  _Enter TRINCULO._

                        Lo, now, lo!
Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me                       15
For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat;
Perchance he will not mind me.

_Trin._ Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any
weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i'
the wind: yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks               20
like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should
thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head:
yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What
have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he
smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind      25
of not of the newest Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I
in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish
painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of
silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange
beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to          30
relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead
Indian. Legged like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm
o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion; hold it no
longer: this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately
suffered by a thunderbolt. [_Thunder._] Alas, the storm is come     35
again! my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there
is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with
strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the
storm be past.

  _Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand._

_Ste._ I shall no more to sea, to sea,                              40
                Here shall I die a-shore,--

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: well,
here's my comfort.                                  [_Drinks._

[_Sings._ The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
                       The gunner, and his mate,                    45
               Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
                   But none of us cared for Kate;
                   For she had a tongue with a tang,
                   Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!
               She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch;        50
               Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch.
                   Then, to sea, boys, and let her go hang!

This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort. [_Drinks._

_Cal._ Do not torment me:--O!

_Ste._ What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do                   55
you put tricks upon 's with savages and men of Ind, ha? I
have not scaped drowning, to be afeard now of your four
legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever went
on four legs cannot make him give ground; and it shall be
said so again, while Stephano breathes at's nostrils.               60

_Cal._ The spirit torments me:--O!

_Ste._ This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who
hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he
learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be
but for that. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, and          65
get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that
ever trod on neat's-leather.

_Cal._ Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood
home faster.

_Ste._ He's in his fit now, and does not talk after the             70
wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk
wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover
him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much for
him; he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly.

_Cal._ Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I          75
know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.

_Ste._ Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that
which will give language to you, cat: open your mouth; this
will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly:
you cannot tell who's your friend: open your chaps again.           80

_Trin._ I should know that voice: it should be--but he
is drowned; and these are devils:--O defend me!

_Ste._ Four legs and two voices,--a most delicate monster!
His forward voice, now, is to speak well of his friend;
his backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract.        85
If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help
his ague. Come:--Amen! I will pour some in thy other
mouth.

_Trin._ Stephano!

_Ste._ Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy!                  90
This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have
no long spoon.

_Trin._ Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me,
and speak to me; for I am Trinculo,--be not afeard,--thy
good friend Trinculo.                                               95

_Ste._ If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I'll pull thee
by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they.
Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How earnest thou to be
the siege of this moon-calf? can he vent Trinculos?

_Trin._ I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke.             100
But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope, now, thou
art not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid me
under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm.
And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans
scaped!                                                            105

_Ste._ Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not
constant.

_Cal._ [_aside_] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites.
That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor:
I will kneel to him.                                               110

_Ste._ How didst thou 'scape? How camest thou hither?
swear, by this bottle, how thou camest hither. I escaped
upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved o'erboard, by
this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree with mine
own hands, since I was cast ashore.                                115

_Cal._ I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy true subject;
for the liquor is not earthly.

_Ste._ Here; swear, then, how thou escapedst.

_Trin._ Swum ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim
like a duck, I'll be sworn.                                        120

_Ste._ Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim
like a duck, thou art made like a goose.

_Trin._ O Stephano, hast any more of this?

_Ste._ The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by
the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf!            125
how does thine ague?

_Cal._ Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven?

_Ste._ Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man
i' the moon when time was.

_Cal._ I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee:               130
My mistress show'd me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush.

_Ste._ Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish
it anon with new contents: swear.

_Trin._ By this good light, this is a very shallow monster!
I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The                          135
man i' the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well
drawn, monster, in good sooth!

_Cal._ I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island;
And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god.

_Trin._ By this light, a most perfidious and drunken               140
monster! when's god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle.

_Cal._ I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject.

_Ste._ Come on, then; down, and swear.

_Trin._ I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed
monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in                    145
my heart to beat him,--

_Ste._ Come, kiss.

_Trin._ But that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable
monster!

_Cal._ I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries;   150
I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wondrous man.

_Trin._ A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder                155
of a poor drunkard!

_Cal._ I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;
Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee                      160
To clustering filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee
Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

_Ste._ I prithee now, lead the way, without any more
talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company else being
drowned, we will inherit here: here; bear my bottle: fellow        165
Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again.

_Cal. sings drunkenly._] Farewell, master; farewell, farewell!

_Trin._ A howling monster; a drunken monster!

_Cal._ No more dams I'll make for fish;
                Nor fetch in firing                                170
                At requiring;
             Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish:
                'Ban, 'Ban, Cacaliban
                Has a new master:--get a new man.

Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-day,              175
freedom!

_Ste._ O brave monster! Lead the way.    [_Exeunt._

  Notes: II, 2.

  4: _nor_] F1 F2. _not_ F3 F4.
  15: _and_] _now_ Pope. _sent_ Edd. conj. (so Dryden).
  21: _foul_] _full_ Upton conj.
  35: [Thunder] Capell.
  38: _dregs_] _drench_ Collier MS.
  40: SCENE III. Pope.
  [a bottle in his hand] Capell.]
  46: _and Marian_] _Mirian_ Pope.
  56: _savages_] _salvages_ Ff.
  60: _at's nostrils_] Edd. _at 'nostrils_ F1. _at nostrils_ F2 F3 F4.
    _at his nostrils_ Pope.
  78: _you, cat_] _you Cat_ Ff. _a cat_ Hanmer. _your cat_ Edd. conj.
  84: _well_] F1 om. F2 F3 F4.
  115, 116: Steevens prints as verse, _I'll ... thy True ... earthly._
  118: _swear, then, how thou escapedst_] _swear then: how escapedst
    thou?_ Pope.
  119: _Swum_] _Swom_ Ff.
  131: _and thy dog, and thy bush_] _thy dog and bush_ Steevens.
  133: _new_] F1. _the new_ F2 F3 F4.
  135: _weak_] F1. _shallow_ F2 F3 F4.
  138: _island_] F1. _isle_ F2 F3 F4.
  150-154, 157-162, printed as verse by Pope (after Dryden).
  162: _scamels_] _shamois_ Theobald. _seamalls, stannels_ id. conj.
  163: Ste.] F1. Cal. F2 F3 F4.
  165: Before _here; bear my bottle_ Capell inserts [To Cal.].
    See note (XII).
  172: _trencher_] Pope (after Dryden). _trenchering_ Ff.
  175: _hey-day_] Rowe. _high-day_ Ff.

Caliban curses Prospero, as another storm approaches the island; he takes the storm as a sign that Prospero is up to mischief, and hides at the approach of what he fears is one of Prospero's punishing spirits. Trinculo, Alonso's court jester, finds Caliban lying still on the ground and covered with a cloak, and figures him to be a "dead Indian"; but, the storm continues to approach, so he also hides himself, using Caliban's cloak as a shelter, and flattening himself on the ground beside Caliban's prostrate form. Alonso's drunken butler, Stephano, enters, drunk and singing, and stumbles upon the strange sight of the two men under the cloak; he figures, in his drunken stupor, that Trinculo and Caliban make a four-legged monster. Caliban,in his delirium, thinks that Stephano is one of Prospero's minions, sent to torment him; Stephano thinks a drink of wine will cure Caliban of what ails him, and bit by bit, gets Caliban drunk as well. It takes Stephano a while to recognize his old friend, Trinculo, whom Caliban seems to be ignoring. Because of Stephano's generosity with his "celestial liquor," Caliban takes him to be some sort of benevolent god; much to Trinculo's disbelief, Caliban actually offers his service to Stephano, forsaking the "tyrant" Prospero. Stephano accepts the offer.

Act 2 begins with a speech by Gonzalo that sounds similar to Claudius' speech to Hamlet in Act 1 of that play. Gonzalo tries to console the king over the loss of his son, saying that his "hint of woe is common," and speaking about all the people who share his "theme of woe". In Hamlet, Claudius bandies about similar language when soothing Hamlet, mentioning the "common theme" of paternal death, and begging him to cast off the "woe" that burdens him. The tone of these two speeches, also, is similar; both, though directed toward one person, are made before a larger audience of listeners, and so are somewhat formal, impersonal, and diplomatic in language and form, in order to sound proper and impress their point on those who are not being directly addressed. However, Alonso responds badly to Gonzalo's good-hearted and carefully-worded attempt to cheer him up; "he receives comfort like cold porridge" is the simile that Sebastian uses to describe the King's reaction, and the comparison highlights King Alonso's sober, aloof, and disconsolate personality. In the first scene of Sebastian and Antonio first display a mischievous skill with language which they use to mock Gonzalo, then the nobleman Adrian. Sebastian teases the somewhat long-winded but good-hearted councilor by saying that Gonzalo is "winding up the watch of his wit, by and by, it will strike" when he begins another entreaty to the king. When Gonzalo opens his mouth again, he is answered with Sebastian saying "one," as if Gonzalo had struck the hour, like a clock. Then, they change the subject of their puns to money; "what a spendthrift is he of his tongue," says Antonio, speaking of Gonzalo as if he were a character more akin to the very garrulous, somewhat foolish Polonius from Hamlet Gonzalo and Polonius hold the same position, of head councilor to the king, but is not the same wastrel of words that Polonius proved to be; he makes a few remarks in this act that are beside the point, like his statements about their garments being "fresh," but nothing that sounds so foolish as Polonius' "brevity is the soul of wit" speech in Act 2 of Hamlet. Antonio and Sebastian detach themselves from their party through their mocking wit. Adrian and Gonzalo try, in a levelheaded way, to both take stock of their situation, and hearten their party; they note the "subtle, tender, and delicate temperance" of the island, and report that "here is everything advantageous to life". Gonzalo becomes optimistic, making statements about how "lush and lusty the grass looks"; Antonio and Sebastian's replies to Gonzalo's benign remarks are distinctly negative, contradicting Gonzalo with claims that "the ground indeed is tawny," and that "he lies" in his positive assessments. In this act, notice how Sebastian and Antonio are thoroughly characterized as heedless, careless, harsh, and arrogant through their disregard for their fellows, their predicament, and through their constant bickering and insulting remarks. All of their character flaws that are exposed in this act are important in the later action, foreshadowing their backstabbing tendencies and their eventual comeuppance. Several allusions to The Aeneid are sprinkled throughout the play, Antonio and Sebastian's debate about the "widow Dido" and the uniqueness of Carthage among the most prominent of these. Although the Carthage/ Tunis debate is elusive, and perhaps nonsensical, Gonzalo is correct that "Tunis, sir, was Carthage," because Tunis became the political and commercial center of North Africa after Carthage,as it is described in The Aeneid, was destroyed. The Tempest inhabits, roughly, the same geographic realm as Virgil's work; Alonso's ship, before the shipwreck, was following the same route that Aeneas took from Carthage to Naples. The Aeneid raises issues about royal authority and political legitimacy that are also present in Shakespeare's work; and the allusions are, at the least, noteworthy because of the associations present during Shakespeare's time between the strong, intelligent, and powerful Queen Dido, and the equally strong, intelligent, and powerful Queen Elizabeth. Note the contrast in tone between Alonso's lament in lines 104-111 of scene 2, and Franscisco's answer to the king; Alonso's statement is somewhat crude in its metaphors, describing how the "stomach of sense" is being force-fed by having to listen to his friends' long-winded chatter. Francisco answers this complaint with elevated rhetoric, about how he saw Alonso's son "beat the surges under him" and "trod the water, whose enmity he flung aside"; Francisco's formalized description is more elegantly worded and image-laden than Alonso's, and the difference in language signifies a possible difference in knowledge and communicative abilities in the two characters. As in Act 1, there are a number of allusions to proverbs in this act as well, one of which appears in line 136. Rub the sore" is a phrase Gonzalo uses to tell Sebastian that his attempts to console the king do no more than aggravate the loss; and this phrase was a popular one during Shakespeare's time, and is much easier to understand than some of the more obscure and outmoded allusions that Shakespeare includes in his work. Once Antonio and Sebastian begin to conspire in scene 1, parallels with Macbeth begin to surface. My strong imagination sees a crown dropping upon thy head," Antonio says to his brother, creating an image similar to the one that the three witches describe for Macbeth in Act 1, scene 3 of Macbeth. The presence of a conspiracy against the throne and a plot of murder creates another similarity; and Sebastian reacts to his brother's ambitious vision as Macbeth reacts to the witches-- that is, with thoughts of murder. Before Sebastian is convinced to follow his brother's plan, he exclaims that he is "standing water"; the statement is a metaphor, but the words are somewhat vague in their connotation. What Sebastian means with this comparison is that he is waiting to be moved in some direction, and will remain still, or "standing," until he finds his purpose and motivation. The phrase could be alluding to another proverbial saying, but exactly which saying is being referred to is unclear. Act 2 returns to the themes of political legitimacy, source of power, and usurpation that arose in the first act. While Prospero firmly believed that the only legitimate power was the power that came from one's knowledge and hard work, Antonio believes that the power he usurped from his brother is legitimate, because he deserved it more and had the skill to wrestle it away. Look how well my garments sit upon me, much feater than before," Antonio brags to Sebastian; Antonio's lack of remorse over his crime, and his arrogant claim that his power is just because he uses it better, foreshadow a confrontation with his brother Prospero, and an eventual fall from this ill-gained power. However, Ariel's involvement in this conspiracy shows it to be part of Prospero's plan; Ariel makes all but Antonio and Sebastian go to sleep, and then causes conspiratorial seriousness to settle on them as well. The situation is created as part of Prospero's project, to reinforce his idea of his brothers as villains, and act as Prospero "foresees through his art" that they will. His project dies" if Antonio and Sebastian's deviant plot is not made; and here, Prospero again shows himself to be a manipulator of the play's events, influencing the course of the play from within. There is great dramatic irony in this situation, and in the fact that Prospero causes his brothers to do the very things that he condemns them for. The most important literary elements in the second scene are probably those that are used to refer to Caliban. Upon finding Caliban lying on the ground, Trinculo calls him a "dead Indian"; indeed, in Elizabethan times, natives were brought back to England from foreign lands, and their captors could earn a great deal of money exhibiting them in London. Trinculo's speech is significant because he describes Caliban as a "fish," and a "strange beast," showing his Western contempt and lack of understanding of a person with a different skin color than his own. Stephano assumes that Caliban is a "mooncalf," or a monstrosity, the term alluding to a folk tale of the time. Although Caliban asserted his natural authority over the island in Act 1, Prospero's usurpation of Caliban's power is negated by Caliban's portrayal as a savage seeking a new master. Caliban proves Prospero's view of him, as a natural servant, to be true, when Caliban immediately adopts Stephano as his new master upon Stephano's sudden appearance. Caliban, as a native, is seen as a "monster," not only by Prospero, but by Trinculo and Stephano also; their contempt for dark-skinned Caliban is analogous to Europeans' view of "natives" in the West Indies and other colonies, and Shakespeare's treatment of Caliban provides some interesting social commentary on colonization. In fact, when this play appeared in the First Folio of Shakespeare's work, shortly after Shakespeare's death in the early 17th century, Caliban's character description marks him as "a savage and deformed slave," despite glimpses of his noble character in the play. As a representation of a man apart from Western society, Caliban is seen as a contemptuous character because of prejudices of Shakespeare's time; these Elizabethan-period social prejudices also belong to many of the characters in the play, and are the prime determinant of the negative view that Prospero, Stephano, and Trinculo have of Caliban in the play. Other colonization-related themes are raised by Gonzalo's description of his Utopia, from lines 145 to 162 in scene 1. Gonzalo's speech recalls many of Thomas More's ideas from his book Utopia, and summons up the spirit of Renaissance political idealism with his ideas about reform. These topics were particularly relevant at the time of the play, because of New World colonization, and Europeans finally had the chance to start new governments and societies that reflected these idealistic tenets. But, Gonzalo's imagining is also self-contradictory and impractical, as Antonio and Sebastian are quick to notice; and perhaps this is Shakespeare's statement about the naivete of Utopian thought in general

On another part of the island, Caliban is busy fetching wood and cursing Prospero for the mean things he does to Caliban, like sending spirits to torment him while he works. As Caliban complains of apes that chatter at and bite him, hedgehogs that prick his feet, and snakes that hiss him to madness, Trinculo enters, and Caliban assumes the stranger is another one of Prospero's nasty spirits. Trinculo, a jester and member of the shipwrecked group, wanders alone searching for cover, should another storm come. He spots Caliban, and seeing he is maybe a man or a fish , immediately thinks of how people in England would pay to see an odd thing like this. Then he decides Caliban's deformed shape is simply that of a native islander recently hit by lightning. Brain Snack: In sixteenth and seventeenth-century England , people paid money to see American Indians who had been brought over from the New World and were exhibited like circus animals. Hearing more thunder, Trinculo immediately jumps under Caliban's cape, seeking shelter. Just then, Stefano, the drunken butler, wanders in singing saucy songs about which women will put out for sailors, and which women won't. Surprised at seeing Caliban as a four legged creature , Stefano announces he did not escape drowning to fall to savages. Caliban, thinking Stefano is another of Prospero's spirits, cries out. Stefano is shocked that this four-legged monster knows his own language, and thinks the monster suffers from some fever. Stefano will give the monster a drink to ease him, but also hopes he might drunkenly tame the monster and lure him back to Naples as a present for a European emperor. Stefano makes Caliban drink wine from his flask; the still scared and hiding Trinculo thinks he recognizes Stefano's voice and calls out to him. Finally, after some silly nonsense, Stefano and Trinculo discover each other, and Caliban realizes the two are not spirits, but must be gods, what with the celestial liquor Stefano carries. Stefano doesn't deny it, and drunkenly claims that he was the man in the moon until recently, when he fell down. Caliban, steadily drinking, swears himself to be Stefano's servant and agrees to show his new master the best stuff of the island. Stefano and Trinculo, drunk and sure everyone else is dead, are happy to be kings of this island, with Caliban as their subject. Caliban, now also drunk, is happy to be free of Prospero's tyranny .

The scene opens with Caliban cursing Prospero. When he hears someone approach, Caliban assumes it is one of Prospero's spirits, coming to torture him once again. Caliban falls to the ground and pulls his cloak over his body, leaving only his feet protruding. But instead of Prospero, the king's jester, Trinculo, enters. Trinculo is looking for shelter from the coming storm when he sees Caliban. With his body partially covered with the cloak, Caliban appears to be half man and half fish, or at least that is Trinculo's initial impression. Trinculo immediately sees the possibilities that this find presents. He can take this "monster" back to civilization and display it, charging admission to spectators who want to view this aberration of nature. Yet after touching Caliban, Trinculo decides that his "find" is not half man-half fish, but an islander. With the coming storm, Trinculo decides to seek shelter under Caliban's cloak. The king's butler, Stefano, enters, clearly drunk. Stefano stops at the sight of the object on the ground, covered with a cloak and with four legs sticking out. Like Trinculo, Stefano immediately sees the financial possibilities that such a creature offers back home. But all of Stefano's poking has alarmed Caliban, who thinks that he is about to experience a new form of torture, beyond what Prospero has provided. After pulling the cloak from Caliban's head, Stefano begins to pour wine into Caliban's mouth. Trinculo emerges from under the cloak and, happy to find another survivor of the storm on the island, joins Stefano and Caliban in drinking wine. Caliban drunkenly watches the happy reunion of Stefano and Trinculo and decides that Stefano is a god, dropped from heaven. Caliban swears devotion to this new "god," and the three leave together, amid Caliban's promises to find Stefano the best food on the island.

For the first time, the audience is given a close look at Caliban, who appeared only briefly in Act I. He appears now, cursing Prospero, and so, the depth of Caliban's animosity is quickly evident. He is very frightened by Prospero, whom he both cowers before and hates. Prospero has made Caliban his slave. The island was originally Caliban's, and he lived under no man's control. Although Caliban blames Prospero for all his troubles, it is clear that nature, itself, has turned against him. In his soliloquy that opens this scene, Caliban admits that the animals on the island make faces at him, bite him, and hiss at him. This he blames on Prospero, reasoning that he controls all nature. Every noise is thought to be a spirit, sent by Prospero to torture him. Caliban represents nature, unfettered by man's domesticity -- nature, as it appears untouched by corrupt forces. And yet Caliban is not totally innocent. Prospero has already told the audience of Caliban's attack on Miranda. His behavior recalls the undisciplined nature of wild animals rather than that of natural man. He has not been civilized to the rules of social discourse and, instead, functions as the animals in the forest do -- obeying the instincts of nature. If Caliban represents the most basic elements of nature, then Stefano and Trinculo represent how low civilized men can sink without self-control. Both men are opportunists, ready to exploit the new "man" they discover under a cloak. Both Stefano and Trinculo share the same initial thought -- how to make money from a being as unusual in appearance as Caliban. They immediately see the potential in exhibiting him as a freak of nature. Of course, Shakespeare is commenting on a real phenomena in English society: the exhibition of American Indians, transported back to England from the new colonies in Virginia. Elizabethan entrepreneurs quickly saw a profit in the "natural" people who inhabited the Americas. These Native Americans were brought to England and displayed for profit. Most quickly succumbed to diseases for which they had no natural immunity. But more of these natural people were readily available, and so the trade continued for some time. Stefano and Trinculo's thinking reveals them to be little more than charlatans, out to make a quick profit. Stefano and Trinculo readily fall into agreement with Caliban and plot to commit murder because they think there is a profit to be made. But there is another reason, as well. Stefano enjoys his new status as Caliban's god. He delights in the adoration, the reversal of fortune. He has gone from butler to god and sees it as a huge improvement in status. Just as Sebastian and Antonio expect power as a reward for violent behavior, the butler and the court jester would like power with a minimal amount of effort. If murdering Prospero will make them kings of the island, they are ready to do Caliban's bidding. Of course, just as Sebastian and Antonio were being watched, so too are these three drunken conspirators. This scene involves low comedy, the kind of slapstick that depends more on actions than words. Caliban, Stefano, and Trinculo are funny because the audience thinks their efforts ridiculous. Trinculo is dressed as a clown, and Trinculo rode the storm to safety in a wine cask. Although Sebastian and Antonio's plot might represent real danger to Alonso , Trinculo and Stefano's plot can only represent impotence. Their plan to murder Prospero and ravish Miranda is doomed from the start, and the audience is always aware of this. In their drunkenness, they are ineffectual and thus can be enjoyed. In  Caliban's innocence, he has allied himself with buffoons. He bribes his accomplices with promises of choice foods and is too unsophisticated to realize that these men would also enslave him if given the opportunity. Stefano and Trinculo represent the worst that civilization has to offer -- debauchery and absurdity. Glossary inch-meal inch by inch. Here, Caliban hopes for Prospero's fall. bombard a large leather container meant to hold liquor. swabber the sailor who washes the ship and keeps the decks clean. chaps jaws. Stefano is telling Caliban to open his jaws and drink more. long spoon alluding to an old proverb that a man must have a very long spoon to eat with the devil. Stefano thinks that Trinculo is a ghost. moon-calf  a monstrosity; a misshapen creature born under the moon's influence. Scamels The meaning is uncertain but thought to be either shellfish or rock-inhabiting birds.


ACT III. SCENE I.

_Before PROSPERO'S cell._

  _Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log._

_Fer._ There be some sports are painful, and their labour
Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters
Point to rich ends. This my mean task
Would be as heavy to me as odious, but                               5
The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed.
And he's composed of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,                     10
Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness
Had never like executor. I forget:
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,
Most busy lest, when I do it.

  _Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen._

_Mir._                  Alas, now, pray you,                        15
Work not so hard: I would the lightning had
Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile!
Pray, set it down, and rest you: when this burns,
'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father
Is hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself;                         20
He's safe for these three hours.

_Fer._                         O most dear mistress,
The sun will set before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.

_Mir._                  If you'll sit down,
I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that;
I'll carry it to the pile.

_Fer._                   No, precious creature;                     25
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.

_Mir._             It would become me
As well as it does you: and I should do it
With much more ease; for my good will is to it,                     30
And yours it is against.

_Pros._                Poor worm, thou art infected!
This visitation shows it.

_Mir._                  You look wearily.

_Fer._ No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me
When you are by at night. I do beseech you,--
Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers,--                        35
What is your name?

_Mir._           Miranda. --O my father,
I have broke your hest to say so!

_Fer._                          Admired Miranda!
Indeed the top of admiration! worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have eyed with best regard, and many a time                       40
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues
Have I liked several women; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed,                        45
And put it to the foil: but you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best!

_Mir._             I do not know
One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen                      50
More that I may call men than you, good friend,
And my dear father: how features are abroad,
I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you;                                 55
Nor can imagination form a shape,
Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle
Something too wildly, and my father's precepts
I therein do forget.

_Fer._             I am, in my condition,
A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;                              60
I would, not so!--and would no more endure
This wooden slavery than to suffer
The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak:
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service; there resides,                        65
To make me slave to it; and for your sake
Am I this patient log-man.

_Mir._                   Do you love me?

_Fer._ O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound,
And crown what I profess with kind event,
If I speak true! if hollowly, invert                                70
What best is boded me to mischief! I,
Beyond all limit of what else i' the world,
Do love, prize, honour you.

_Mir._                    I am a fool
To weep at what I am glad of.

_Pros._                     Fair encounter
Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace                     75
On that which breeds between 'em!

_Fer._                          Wherefore weep you?

_Mir._ At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer
What I desire to give; and much less take
What I shall die to want. But this is trifling;
And all the more it seeks to hide itself,                           80
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning!
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!
I am your wife, if you will marry me;
If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow
You may deny me; but I'll be your servant,                          85
Whether you will or no.

_Fer._                My mistress, dearest;
And I thus humble ever.

_Mir._                My husband, then?

_Fer._ Ay, with a heart as willing
As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand.

_Mir._ And mine, with my heart in't: and now farewell               90
Till half an hour hence.

_Fer._                 A thousand thousand!

    [_Exeunt Fer. and Mir. severally._

_Pros._ So glad of this as they I cannot be,
Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing
At nothing can be more. I'll to my book;
For yet, ere supper-time, must I perform                            95
Much business appertaining.    [_Exit._

  Notes: III, 1.

  1: _and_] _but_ Pope.
  2: _sets_] Rowe. _set_ Ff.
  4, 5: _my ... odious_] _my mean task would be As heavy to me as
    'tis odious_ Pope.
  9: _remove_] _move_ Pope.
  14: _labours_] _labour_ Hanmer.
  15: _Most busy lest_] F1. _Most busy least_ F2 F3 F4. _Least busy_
    Pope. _Most busie-less_ Theobald._ Most busiest_ Holt White conj.
    _Most busy felt_ Staunton. _Most busy still_ Staunton conj.
    _Most busy-blest_ Collier MS. _Most busiliest_ Bullock conj.
  _Most busy lest, when I do_ (_doe_ F1 F2 F3) _it_] _Most busy when
    least I do it_ Brae conj. _Most busiest when idlest_ Spedding
    conj. _Most busy left when idlest_ Edd. conj. See note (XIII).
  at a distance, unseen] Rowe.
  17: _you are_] F1. _thou art_ F2 F3 F4.
  31: _it is_] _is it_ Steevens conj. (ed. 1, 2, and 3). om. Steevens
    (ed. 4) (Farmer conj.).
  34, 35: _I do beseech you,--Chiefly_] _I do beseech you Chiefly_ Ff.
  59: _I therein do_] _I do_ Pope. _Therein_ Steevens.
  62: _wooden_] _wodden_ F1.
  _than to_] _than I would_ Pope.
  72: _what else_] _aught else_ Malone conj. (withdrawn).
  80: _seeks_] _seekd_ F3 F4.
  88: _as_] F1. _so_ F2 F3 F4.
  91: _severally_] Capell.
  93: _withal_] Theobald. _with all_ Ff.

Ferdinand has been made to take Caliban's place as a servant, despite his royal status; and though he does not like Prospero, he does the work because it will benefit his new love, Miranda. Ferdinand and Miranda express their love for each other, and both express their desire to be marriedthough they have known each other for less than a day

Near Prospero's cell, Ferdinand collects firewood, and philosophizes that it isn't so bad to do such terrible work, because he is refreshed by the thought of his young, virginal, sweet, would-be wife, Miranda. She conveniently enters, and Prospero, being the overbearing father that he is, spies on them. Miranda begs Ferdinand to take a break, and even offers to do his work for a while. Ferdinand refuses, and takes the opportunity to ask a very important question, namely, what his promised wife's name is. Seriously. Moving briskly along, Miranda tells Ferdinand her name, which she promised her father she wouldn't do. The two briefly share their experiences: He's known lots of women , and still likes Miranda best. Miranda has known no men, but likes Ferdinand best. They declare their mutual love of each other and now that all the tricky formalities like knowing each other's names are out of the way, they promise to be husband and wife. Prospero, watching all of this, rejoices.

Ferdinand enters carrying a log, which he claims would be an odious task except that he carries it to serve Miranda. His carrying of the logs is a punishment but one he willingly accepts because thoughts of Miranda make the work seem effortless. Miranda enters and, when Ferdinand will not rest, offers to take up his chore so that she might force him to rest, but Ferdinand refuses. Although she was instructed not to reveal her name, Miranda impulsively divulges it to Ferdinand. Ferdinand, for his part, has known other beautiful women, but he admits to having never known one as perfect as Miranda. Miranda confesses that she has known no other women, nor any other man, except for her father. Now, she would want no other man except for Ferdinand. At this, Miranda remembers that she has been instructed not to speak to their guest and momentarily falls silent. When Ferdinand avows that he would gladly serve her, Miranda asks if he loves her. At his affirmative reply, Miranda begins to weep. She tells Ferdinand that she is unworthy of him but will marry him if he wants her. He quickly agrees, and the couple finally touch, taking each other's hands, as they pledge their love. Prospero has been listening, unseen. He acknowledges Miranda and Ferdinand's natural match as being "Of two most rare affections" , but he has other plans that need his immediate attention, and so he turns to his books and other waiting business.

This scene leaves no doubt that Prospero is the absolute ruler of his small island. Ferdinand is set to the same task as Caliban, carrying logs. Although he is a prince, Ferdinand must bow to the same authority that Caliban, a slave, observes. Even Miranda is not exempt from Prospero's rule. She is not supposed to speak to Ferdinand. Moreover, she is not permitted to even give him her name, although she does. As part of Prospero's power, he must pretend to oppose the romance between Miranda and Ferdinand; however, the audience knows that Prospero is not opposed to such a union, and in fact, he had hoped that they would love one another. But Prospero must maintain the illusion that he is in absolute control, and so, he imposes rules to guarantee his authority. In part, Prospero is playing the role that any father must play when his daughter has a suitor. Protecting Miranda's worth is tied to protecting her virginity; thus, he watches the courtship, unseen. Miranda is an obedient daughter, as proved by her dismay when she forgets herself and reveals her name to Ferdinand. But she is also a young woman in love, and when her father is occupied, she immediately looks to release Ferdinand from his labors. Miranda has no experience with people. She has never seen another woman and does not know that she is beautiful. She has no experience with men, other than her father and Caliban. Because of her isolation, she has developed no artful skills at flirting, and when Ferdinand tells her that he loves her, Miranda weeps. Their love scene is sweet and tender, and without artifice. Prospero watches this exchange, not just to control its outcome, but to protect his only child. Miranda is more vulnerable than most young women, and she needs a strong father to protect her. As such a strong authority figure, Prospero is well suited to protect Miranda from any dangers that this new experience might present. But his watchful observances also recall the godlike control that he has exercised over every other individual being and every action that has occurred on the island. This loving scene serves as a bridge between two scenes of low comedy. Wedged just before and just after, this romantic interlude reminds Shakespeare's audience of the contrast between the pure and tender love of Ferdinand and Miranda and the debauchery of Caliban, Stefano, and Trinculo. Ferdinand's labors are willingly accepted, because Miranda's mere presence fills all his work with pleasure. This happy labor contrasts to the cursing that opened the previous scene, when Caliban also carried logs. Ferdinand and Miranda's love embodies an ideal love, one in keeping with the expectations of nature. There is gentle humor and genuine heartfelt feelings, and there are none of the artificial trappings of conventional courtship. Both Ferdinand and Miranda express their feelings honestly and with dignity. Their encounter adds something important that had been missing -- authentic nobility of manner. Their nature, or breeding, has led them to behave with deportment, as would be expected of the children of the aristocracy. Both young lovers behave in a responsible manner that was missing from their fathers' lives. Thus, Ferdinand and Miranda fulfill the promise of reconciliation, which is an important element of this play. The plotting and betrayal of the fathers is atoned for by their children. For this to work successfully, Alonso and Prospero's children must be elevated far above their fathers in both decorum and honor. Glossary hest  a behest; a bidding; an order. Miranda was commanded not to reveal her name. foil to keep from being successful; thwart; frustrate. wooden slavery being compelled to carry wood. hollowly here, insincerely. maid here, handmaiden, a woman or girl servant or attendant.


SCENE II.

_Another part of the island._

  _Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO._

_Ste._ Tell not me;--when the butt is out, we will drink
water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and board 'em.
Servant-monster, drink to me.

_Trin._ Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They
say there's but five upon this isle: we are three of them; if        5
th' other two be brained like us, the state totters.

_Ste._ Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes
are almost set in thy head.

_Trin._ Where should they be set else? he were a brave
monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.                       10

_Ste._ My man-monster hath drowned his tongue in sack:
for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I could
recover the shore, five-and-thirty leagues off and on. By
this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or my
standard.                                                           15

_Trin._ Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard.

_Ste._ We'll not run, Monsieur Monster.

_Trin._ Nor go neither; but you'll lie, like dogs, and
yet say nothing neither.

_Ste._ Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a           20
good moon-calf.

_Cal._ How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe.
I'll not serve him, he is not valiant.

_Trin._ Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case
to justle a constable. Why, thou debauched fish, thou, was          25
there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as
I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a
fish and half a monster?

_Cal._ Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?

_Trin._ 'Lord,' quoth he! That a monster should be                  30
such a natural!

_Cal._ Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee.

_Ste._ Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if you
prove a mutineer,--the next tree! The poor monster's my
subject, and he shall not suffer indignity.                         35

_Cal._ I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to
hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?

_Ste._ Marry, will I: kneel and repeat it; I will stand,
and so shall Trinculo.

  _Enter ARIEL, invisible._

_Cal._ As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a           40
sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island.

_Ari._ Thou liest.

_Cal._           Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou:
I would my valiant master would destroy thee!
I do not lie.

_Ste._ Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, by          45
this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.

_Trin._ Why, I said nothing.

_Ste._ Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.

_Cal._ I say, by sorcery he got this isle;
From me he got it. If thy greatness will                            50
Revenge it on him,--for I know thou darest,
But this thing dare not,--

_Ste._ That's most certain.

_Cal._ Thou shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee.

_Ste._ How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou                  55
bring me to the party?

_Cal._ Yea, yea, my lord: I'll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.

_Ari._ Thou liest; thou canst not.

_Cal._ What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch!                 60
I do beseech thy Greatness, give him blows,
And take his bottle from him: when that's gone,
He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him
Where the quick freshes are.

_Ste._ Trinculo, run into no further danger: interrupt the          65
monster one word further, and, by this hand, I'll turn my
mercy out o' doors, and make a stock-fish of thee.

_Trin._ Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther
off.

_Ste._ Didst thou not say he lied?                                  70

_Ari._ Thou liest.

_Ste._ Do I so? take thou that. [_Beats him._] As you
like this, give me the lie another time.

_Trin._ I did not give the lie. Out o' your wits, and
hearing too? A pox o' your bottle! this can sack and                75
drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the devil
take your fingers!

_Cal._ Ha, ha, ha!

_Ste._ Now, forward with your tale. --Prithee, stand farther
off.                                                                80

_Cal._ Beat him enough: after a little time,
I'll beat him too.

_Ste._ Stand farther. Come, proceed.

_Cal._ Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him
I' th' afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him,
Having first seized his books; or with a log                        85
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember
First to possess his books; for without them
He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command: they all do hate him                         90
As rootedly as I. Burn but his books.
He has brave utensils,--for so he calls them,--
Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal.
And that most deeply to consider is
The beauty of his daughter; he himself                              95
Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman,
But only Sycorax my dam and she;
But she as far surpasseth Sycorax
As great'st does least.

_Ste._                Is it so brave a lass?

_Cal._ Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant,               100
And bring thee forth brave brood.

_Ste._ Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I
will be king and queen,--save our Graces!--and Trinculo
and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot,
Trinculo?                                                          105

_Trin._ Excellent.

_Ste._ Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but,
while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head.

_Cal._ Within this half hour will he be asleep:
Wilt thou destroy him then?

_Ste._                    Ay, on mine honour.                      110

_Ari._ This will I tell my master.

_Cal._ Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure:
Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch
You taught me but while-ere?

_Ste._ At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any              115
reason. --Come on. Trinculo, let us sing.      [_Sings._

  Flout 'em and scout 'em, and scout 'em and flout 'em;
  Thought is free.

_Cal._ That's not the tune.

  [_Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe._

_Ste._ What is this same?                                          120

_Trin._ This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture
of Nobody.

_Ste._ If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness:
if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list.

_Trin._ O, forgive me my sins!                                     125

_Ste._ He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy
upon us!

_Cal._ Art thou afeard?

_Ste._ No, monster, not I.

_Cal._ Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,                  130
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,                   135
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.

_Ste._ This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I
shall have my music for nothing.                                   140

_Cal._ When Prospero is destroyed.

_Ste._ That shall be by and by: I remember the story.

_Trin._ The sound is going away; let's follow it, and
after do our work.

_Ste._ Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see            145
this taborer; he lays it on.

_Trin._ Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano.    [_Exeunt._

  Notes: III, 2.

  SCENE II. Another...] Theobald. The other... Pope.
  Enter ...] Enter S. and T. reeling, Caliban following with a bottle.
    Capell. Enter C. S. and T. with a bottle. Johnson.]
  8: _head_] F1. _heart_ F2 F3 F4.
  13, 14: _on. By this light, thou_] _on, by this light thou_ Ff.
    _on, by this light. --Thou_ Capell.
  25: _debauched_] _debosh'd_ Ff.
  37: _to the suit I made to thee_] _the suit I made thee_ Steevens,
    who prints all Caliban's speeches as verse.
  60: Johnson conjectured that this line was spoken by Stephano.
  68: _farther_] F1 _no further_ F2 F3 F4.
  72: [Beats him.] Rowe.
  84: _there_] _then_ Collier MS.
  89: _nor_] _and_ Pope.
  93: _deck_] _deck't_ Hanmer.
  96: _I never saw a woman_] _I ne'er saw woman_ Pope.
  99: _great'st does least_] _greatest does the least_ Rowe.
  115, 116:] Printed as verse in Ff.
  115: _any_] F1. _and_ F2 F3 F4.
  117: _scout 'em, and scout 'em_] Pope. _cout 'em and skowt 'em_ Ff.
  125: _sins_] _sin_ F4.
  132: _twangling_] _twanging_ Pope.
  133: _sometime_] F1. _sometimes_ F2 F3 F4.
  137: _that_] om. Pope.
  147: Trin. _Will come? I'll follow, Stephano_] Trin. _Wilt come?_
    Ste. _I'll follow._ Capell. Ste. _... Wilt come?_
    Trin. _I'll follow, Stephano._ Ritson conj.

Stephano, Trinculo, and Caliban are drinking; Trinculo and Stephano continue to insult Caliban, though Caliban only protests against Trinculo's remarks, and tries to get Stephano to defend him. Caliban begins to tell the other two about the tyranny of his old master, Prospero, and how he wants to be rid of Prospero forever; Ariel enters, causes further discord among the group, and gets Caliban to form a murder plot against Prospero. Caliban promises Stephano that if Prospero is successfully killed, he will allow Stephano to be ruler of the island, and will be his servant. He also promises that Stephano will get Miranda if the plot is successfulAriel leaves, to tell Prospero of these developments

Caliban is with Trinculo and Stefano, and they're all still pretty drunk. Stefano promises that Caliban will be lieutenant on his island, and Caliban promises to lick Stefano's shoe. Fair trade. Trinculo and Caliban get into a little tiff, and Caliban demands that Stefano defend him against Trinculo. Caliban then reminds his two new friends of what he told them earlier: he has been subject to the tyrant sorcerer Prospero, who has wrongfully stolen the island from him. Meanwhile, the invisible Ariel has entered, and whispers things like "thou liest!" Seeing no one, Caliban and Stefano think Trinculo is the one whispering, so they beat him up. Caliban instructs Stefano of what must be done to kill Prospero and gain power over the island. Caliban will lead them to Prospero's favorite afternoon nap spot. If they steal his books, Prospero will be powerless, and then they can nail him in the head, or something. Caliban promises that all the pretty linens and things in Prospero's house will belong to them, and, best of all, Stefano can have the beautiful Miranda, who will "become thy bed, and bring thee forth brave brood" after they've murdered her father. Not cute. As they get ready to find and murder the magician, Ariel enters playing a tune. Trinculo and Stefano are frightened by the song that comes from nowhere, and ask for forgiveness from Heaven. Caliban reassures them that the island is full of sweet noises, and gives one of the most beautiful speeches in the play, speaking of wonder and dreams. All agree to follow the song, which they hope will lead them to Prospero, so they can do their awful deed.

This scene returns to Stefano, Trinculo, and Caliban -- all of whom are now very drunk. Caliban has a plan to kill Prospero and elicits help from his new friends. As Caliban explains that he is the rightful owner of the island, Ariel arrives and listens attentively. Caliban explains that they must burn Prospero's books, and after Prospero is dead, Stefano can marry Miranda, which will make her his queen of the island. Trinculo agrees to the plot. Ariel resolves to tell Prospero of the plot against him. When the drunken men begin singing, Ariel accompanies them on a tabor and pipe. The men hear the music and are afraid, but Caliban reassures them that such sounds are frequently heard on the island. Stefano finds the idea of free music a strong promise of his success on the island, and three drunken conspirators follow the sounds of the music offstage.

Caliban represents untamed nature in conflict with civilization. He intuitively understands that Prospero's power comes from his books; thus the books are to become the first victims of his rebellion. Prospero's books represent oppression to Caliban because all that Prospero's civilization and books have to offer is slavery. Although Caliban might be considered an uneducated savage by Elizabethan accounts , he existed quite happily on the island before Prospero's arrival. Civilization transformed Caliban from freedom to slavery, and he has received little benefit from Prospero's tutelage; even Caliban's use of language is limited to little more than cursing. Because civilization has failed Caliban, he quickly turns to the first possible source of help to appear: Stefano and Trinculo, the lowest forms of civilized behavior. Caliban's island paradise is not all that different from Gonzalo's ideal natural world. Both Caliban and Gonzalo see their ideal worlds as untouched by the confinements of civilization. In both visions, nature provides whatever is needed, and mankind has little effect on the island's existence. But there is one substantial difference. Where Gonzalo would make himself king, Caliban dreams of living in peaceful isolation, with no king to abuse him. Yet, to secure his freedom from Prospero, Caliban would subordinate himself to Stefano, who would take Prospero's place as ruler. Caliban is unable to appreciate that the crass butler, whom he has elevated to a god, would be a worse god than Prospero has been. After all, upon first finding Caliban, Stefano pulled Caliban's head back, forced open his mouth, and poured wine down his throat. His exploitation of Caliban, including the plan to exhibit him as a money-making proposition, reflects little concern for Caliban's well-being. Although Prospero's enslavement of Caliban also raises questions of propriety, his stated reasons are to restore order to the island. However, Prospero's sense of order ignores Caliban's needs. Caliban does not need civilization and its artifacts, education, and language to satisfy his needs. So desperate is Caliban to escape Prospero's oppression, that he would effectively trade one god for another: Prospero for Stefano. But Caliban appears unable or unwilling to comprehend this component of his plot. The murder of Prospero is his immediate concern, and he gives little thought to what might follow. Caliban's plot to murder Prospero offers a parallel to Antonio's plot to murder Alonso. Caliban enlists the assistance of Stefano and Trinculo, just as Antonio enlists the support of Sebastian. Each group of conspirators ignores reason and logic. At the moment, they are all isolated on the island, with little hope or expectation of rescue. Alonso's murder will render no gain for Antonio or Sebastian, since Sebastian would be king of nothing. In a parody of Antonio's plot, Prospero's murder will provide little benefit for Caliban, except to trade one ruler for another and, perhaps, slavery for worse abuse. But both plots illustrate the potential for violence that exists in all levels of society, whether in the aristocracy of Naples or in the natural beauty of an isolated island. Caliban, himself, is filled with contradictions. On one hand, he is brutal, instructing Stefano to "Bite him  to death" . Caliban also describes in detail his plans to murder Prospero by "knock a nail into his head" . Later, Caliban gives his co-conspirators many choices of ways to murder Prospero, from striking him on the head to disemboweling him to cutting his throat. Any means is acceptable, and, as a reward, Caliban casually promises them Miranda. The brutality of Caliban's plan is countered with the poetry of his descriptions of the island: The isle is full of noises,Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.Sometimes a thousand twangling instrumentsWill hum about mine ears, and sometimes voicesThat if I then had waked after long sleepWill make me sleep again; and then in dreamingThe clouds methought would open and show richesReady to drop upon me, that when I wakedI cried to dream again. The songs that Caliban describes and the beauty of his dreams reveal a humanity that is lacking in his descriptions of the murder plot. Caliban is more than a wild beast of the island, and his personality is more complex than his brief scenes have thus far disclosed. The plot to murder Prospero is Caliban's rejection of civilization. He finds no alternative to brutality, if it will free him of the oppression of civilization. The natural beauty of the island permeates Caliban's world, but he is able to separate this beauty from the violent acts that he plans. In Caliban's world, there is no incongruity in the existence of both poetry and barbarity. Glossary case here, prepared. pied ninny a fool. patch  a court jester; any clown or fool murrain a disease of cattle. wezand windpipe. troll the catch to sing the round lustily or in a full, rolling voice