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 enters with a load of wood, and thunder sounds in the background. Caliban curses and describes the torments that Prospero's spirits subject him to: they pinch, bite, and prick him, especially when he curses. As he is thinking of these spirits, Caliban sees Trinculo and imagines him to be one of the spirits. Hoping to avoid pinching, he lies down and covers himself with his cloak. Trinculo hears the thunder and looks about for some cover from the storm. The only thing he sees is the cloak-covered Caliban on the ground. He is not so much repulsed by Caliban as curious. He cannot decide whether Caliban is a "man or a fish" . He thinks of a time when he traveled to England and witnessed freak-shows there. Caliban, he thinks, would bring him a lot of money in England. Thunder sounds again and Trinculo decides that the best shelter in sight is beneath Caliban's cloak, and so he joins the man-monster there. Stephano enters singing and drinking. He hears Caliban cry out to Trinculo, "Do not torment me! O!" . Hearing this and seeing the four legs sticking out from the cloak, Stephano thinks the two men are a four-legged monster with a fever. He decides to relieve this fever with a drink. Caliban continues to resist Trinculo, whom he still thinks is a spirit tormenting him. Trinculo recognizes Stephano's voice and says so. Stephano, of course, assumes for a moment that the monster has two heads, and he promises to pour liquor in both mouths. Trinculo now calls out to Stephano, and Stephano pulls his friend out from under the cloak. While the two men discuss how they arrived safely on shore, Caliban enjoys the liquor and begs to worship Stephano. The men take full advantage of Caliban's drunkenness, mocking him as a "most ridiculous monster"  as he promises to lead them around and show them the isle.

Analysis Trinculo and Stephano are the last new characters to be introduced in the play. They act as comic foils to the main action, and will in later acts become specific parodies of Antonio and Sebastian. At this point, their role is to present comically some of the more serious issues in the play concerning Prospero and Caliban. In Act I, scene ii, Prospero calls Caliban a "slave" , "thou earth" , "Filth" , and "Hag-seed" . Stephano and Trinculo's epithet of choice in Act II, scene ii and thereafter is "monster." But while these two make quite clear that Caliban is seen as less than human by the Europeans on the island, they also treat him more humanely than Prospero does. Stephano and Trinculo, a butler and a jester respectively, remain at the low end of the social scale in the play, and have little difficulty finding friendship with the strange islander they meet. " Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows," says Trinculo , and then hastens to crawl beneath Caliban's garment in order to get out of the rain. The similarity, socially and perhaps physically as well, between Trinculo and Caliban is further emphasized when Stephano, drunk, initially mistakes the two for a single monster: "This is some monster of the isle with four legs" . More important than the emphasis on the way in which Caliban seems to others more monster than man, is the way in which this scene dramatizes the initial encounter between an almost completely isolated, "primitive" culture and a foreign, "civilized" one. The reader discovers during Caliban and Prospero's confrontation in Act I, scene ii that Prospero initially "made much of" Caliban ; that he gave Caliban "Water with berries in't" ; that Caliban showed him around the island; and that Prospero later imprisoned Caliban, after he had taken all he could take from him. The reader can see these events in Act II, scene ii, with Trinculo and Stephano in the place of Prospero. Stephano calls Caliban a "brave monster," as they set off singing around the island. In addition, Stephano and Trinculo give Caliban wine, which Caliban finds to be a "celestial liquor" . Moreover, Caliban initially mistakes Stephano and Trinculo for Prospero's spirits, but alcohol convinces him that Stephano is a "brave god" and decides unconditionally to "kneel to him" . This scene shows the foreign, civilized culture as decadent and manipulative: Stephano immediately plans to "inherit" the island , using Caliban to show him all its virtues. Stephano and Trinculo are a grotesque, parodic version of Prospero upon his arrival twelve years ago. Godlike in the eyes of the native, they slash and burn their way to power. By this point, Caliban has begun to resemble a parody of himself. Whereas he would "gabble like / A thing most brutish"  upon Prospero's arrival, because he did not know language, he now is willfully inarticulate in his drunkenness. Immediately putting aside his fear that these men are spirits sent to do him harm, Caliban puts his trust in them for all the wrong reasons. What makes Caliban's behavior in this scene so tragic is that we might expect him, especially after his eloquent curses of Prospero in Act I, scene ii, to know better.


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.

I am your wife, if you will marry me. If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellowYou may deny me, but I'll be your servantWhether you will or no.   Back at Prospero's cell, Ferdinand takes over Caliban's duties and carries wood for Prospero. Unlike Caliban, however, Ferdinand has no desire to curse. Instead, he enjoys his labors because they serve the woman he loves, Miranda. As Ferdinand works and thinks of Miranda, she enters, and after her, unseen by either lover, Prospero enters. Miranda tells Ferdinand to take a break from his work, or to let her work for him, thinking that her father is away. Ferdinand refuses to let her work for him but does rest from his work and asks Miranda her name. She tells him, and he is pleased: "Miranda" comes from the same Latin word that gives English the word "admiration." Ferdinand's speech plays on the etymology: "Admired Miranda! / Indeed the top of admiration, worth / What's dearest to the world!" . Ferdinand goes on to flatter his beloved. Miranda is, of course, modest, pointing out that she has no idea of any woman's face but her own. She goes on to praise Ferdinand's face, but then stops herself, remembering her father's instructions that she should not speak to Ferdinand. Ferdinand assures Miranda that he is a prince and probably a king now, though he prays his father is not dead. Miranda seems unconcerned with Ferdinand's title, and asks only if he loves her. Ferdinand replies enthusiastically that he does, and his response emboldens Miranda to propose marriage. Ferdinand accepts and the two part. Prospero comes forth, subdued in his happiness, for he has known that this would happen. He then hastens to his book of magic in order to prepare for remaining business.

Analysis There be some sports are painful, and their labourDelight in them sets off. Some kinds of basenessAre nobly undergone, and most poor mattersPoint to rich ends. This my mean taskWould be as heavy to me as odious, butThe mistress which I serve quickens what's deadAnd makes my labours pleasures.  This scene revolves around different images of servitude. Ferdinand is literally in service to Prospero, but in order to make his labor more pleasant he sees Miranda as his taskmaster. When he talks to Miranda, Ferdinand brings up a different kind of servitude--the love he has felt for a number of other beautiful women. Ferdinand sees this love, in comparison to his love for Miranda, as an enforced servitude: "Full many a lady / I have eyed with the best regard, and many a time / Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage / Brought my too diligent ear" . When Miranda stops the conversation momentarily, remembering her father's command against talking to Ferdinand, the prince hastens to assure her that he is worthy of her love. He is royalty, he says, and in normal life "would no more endure / This wooden slavery  than to suffer / The flesh-fly blow my mouth" . But this slavery is made tolerable by a different kind of slavery: "The very instant that I saw you did / My heart fly to your service; there resides, / To make me slave to it" . The words "slavery" and "slave" underscore the parallel as well as the difference between Ferdinand and Caliban. Prospero repeatedly calls Caliban a slave, and we see Caliban as a slave both to Prospero and to his own anger. Ferdinand, on the other hand, is a willing slave to his love, happy in a servitude that makes him rejoice rather than curse. At the end of the scene, Miranda takes up the theme of servitude. Proposing marriage to Ferdinand, she says that "I am your wife, if you will marry me; / If not, I'll die your maid. . . . / You may deny me; but I'll be your servant / Whether you will or no" . This is the only scene of actual interaction we see between Ferdinand and Miranda. Miranda is, as we know, and as she says, very innocent: "I do not know / One of my sex, no woman's face remember / Save from my glass mine own; nor have I seen / More that I may call men than you, good friend, / And my dear father" . The play has to make an effort to overcome the implausibility of this courtship--to make Miranda look like something more than Prospero's puppet and a fool for the first man she sees. Shakespeare accomplishes this by showing Ferdinand in one kind of servitude--in which he must literally and physically humble himself--as he talks earnestly about another kind of servitude, in which he gives himself wholly to Miranda. The fact that Miranda speaks of a similar servitude of her own accord, that she remembers her father's "precepts" and then disregards them, and that Prospero remains in the background without interfering helps the audience to trust this meeting between the lovers more than their first meeting in Act I, scene ii. Of course, Prospero's presence in the first place may suggest that he is somehow in control of what Miranda does or says. At the end he steps forward to assure the audience that he knew what would happen: "So glad of this as they I cannot be, / Who are surprised with all" . But Prospero's five other lines  do not suggest that he controls what Miranda says. Rather, he watches in the manner of a father--both proud of his daughter's choice and slightly sad to see her grow up.


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.

Caliban, Trinculo, and Stephano continue to drink and wander about the island. Stephano now refers to Caliban as "servant monster" and repeatedly orders him to drink. Caliban seems happy to obey. The men begin to quarrel, mostly in jest, in their drunkenness. Stephano has now assumed the title of Lord of the Island and he promises to hang Trinculo if Trinculo should mock his servant monster. Ariel, invisible, enters just as Caliban is telling the men that he is "subject to a tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island" . Ariel begins to stir up trouble, calling out, "Thou liest" . Caliban cannot see Ariel and thinks that Trinculo said this. He threatens Trinculo, and Stephano tells Trinculo not to interrupt Caliban anymore. Trinculo protests that he said nothing. Drunkenly, they continue talking, and Caliban tells them of his desire to get revenge against Prospero. Ariel continues to interrupt now and then with the words, "Thou liest." Ariel's ventriloquizing ultimately results in Stephano hitting Trinculo. While Ariel looks on, Caliban plots against Prospero. The key, Caliban tells his friends, is to take Prospero's magic books. Once they have done this, they can kill Prospero and take his daughter. Stephano will become king of the island and Miranda will be his queen. Trinculo tells Stephano that he thinks this plan is a good idea, and Stephano apologizes for the previous quarreling. Caliban assures them that Prospero will be asleep within the half hour. Ariel plays a tune on his flute and tabor-drum. Stephano and Trinculo wonder at this noise, but Caliban tells them it is nothing to fear. Stephano relishes the thought of possessing this island kingdom "where I shall have my music for nothing" . Then the men decide to follow the music and afterward to kill Prospero.

Analysis As we have seen, one of the ways in which The Tempest builds its rich aura of magical and mysterious implication is through the use of doubles: scenes, characters, and speeches that mirror each other by either resemblance or contrast. This scene is an example of doubling: almost everything in it echoes Act II, scene i. In this scene, Caliban, Trinculo, and Stephano wander aimlessly about the island, and Stephano muses about the kind of island it would be if he ruled it--"I will kill this man . His daughter and I will be King and Queen . . . and Trinculo and thyself  shall be viceroys" --just as Gonzalo had done while wandering with Antonio and Sebastian in Act II, scene i. At the end of Act III, scene ii, Ariel enters, invisible, and causes strife among the group, first with his voice and then with music, leading the men astray in order to thwart Antonio and Sebastian's plot against Alonso. The power-hungry servants Stephano and Trinculo thus become rough parodies of the power-hungry courtiers Antonio and Sebastian. All four men are now essentially equated with Caliban, who is, as Alonso and Antonio once were, simply another usurper. But Caliban also has a moment in this scene to become more than a mere usurper: his striking and apparently heartfelt speech about the sounds of the island. Reassuring the others not to worry about Ariel's piping, Caliban says: 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 sometime voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep,Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,The clouds methought would open and show richesReady to drop upon me, that, when I waked,I cried to dream again. In this speech, we are reminded of Caliban's very close connection to the island--a connection we have seen previously only in his speeches about showing Prospero or Stephano which streams to drink from and which berries to pick . After all, Caliban is not only a symbolic "native" in the colonial allegory of the play. He is also an actual native of the island, having been born there after his mother Sycorax fled there. This ennobling monologue--ennobling because there is no servility in it, only a profound understanding of the magic of the island--provides Caliban with a moment of freedom from Prospero and even from his drunkenness. In his anger and sadness, Caliban seems for a moment to have risen above his wretched role as Stephano's fool. Throughout much of the play, Shakespeare seems to side with powerful figures such as Prospero against weaker figures such as Caliban, allowing us to think, with Prospero and Miranda, that Caliban is merely a monster. But in this scene, he takes the extraordinary step of briefly giving the monster a voice. Because of this short speech, Caliban becomes a more understandable character, and even, for the moment at least, a sympathetic one.


SCENE III.

_Another part of the island._

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

_Gon._ By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir;
My old bones ache: here's a maze trod, indeed,
Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience,
I needs must rest me.

_Alon._             Old lord, I cannot blame thee,
Who am myself attach'd with weariness,                               5
To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest.
Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it
No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd
Whom thus we stray to find; and the sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.                     10

_Ant._ [_Aside to Seb._] I am right glad that he's so out of hope.
Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose
That you resolved to effect.

_Seb._ [_Aside to Ant._] The next advantage
Will we take throughly.

_Ant._ [_Aside to Seb._] Let it be to-night;
For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they                       15
Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance
As when they are fresh.

_Seb._ [_Aside to Ant._] I say, to-night: no more.

  [_Solemn and strange music._

_Alon._ What harmony is this?--My good friends, hark!

_Gon._ Marvellous sweet music!

  _Enter PROSPERO above, invisible. Enter several strange Shapes,
  bringing in a banquet: they dance about it with gentle actions of
  salutation; and, inviting the King, &c. to eat, they depart._

_Alon._ Give us kind keepers, heavens!--What were these?            20

_Seb._ A living drollery. Now I will believe
That there are unicorns; that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phoenix' throne; one phoenix
At this hour reigning there.

_Ant._                     I'll believe both;
And what does else want credit, come to me,                         25
And I'll be sworn 'tis true: travellers ne'er did lie,
Though fools at home condemn 'em.

_Gon._                          If in Naples
I should report this now, would they believe me?
If I should say, I saw such islanders,--
For, certes, these are people of the island,--                      30
Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note,
Their manners are more gentle-kind than of
Our human generation you shall find
Many, nay, almost any.

_Pros._              [_Aside_] Honest lord,
Thou hast said well; for some of you there present                  35
Are worse than devils.

_Alon._              I cannot too much muse
Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing--
Although they want the use of tongue--a kind
Of excellent dumb discourse.

_Pros._                    [_Aside_] Praise in departing.

_Fran._ They vanish'd strangely.

_Seb._                         No matter, since                     40
They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.--
Will't please you taste of what is here?

_Alon._                                Not I.

_Gon._ Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,
Who would believe that there were mountaineers
Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em             45
Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men
Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find
Each putter-out of five for one will bring us
Good warrant of.

_Alon._        I will stand to, and feed,
Although my last: no matter, since I feel                           50
The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke,
Stand to, and do as we.

  _Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps his
  wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the banquet
  vanishes._

_Ari._ You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,--
That hath to instrument this lower world
And what is in't,--the never-surfeited sea                          55
Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island,
Where man doth not inhabit,--you 'mongst men
Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad;
And even with such-like valour men hang and drown
Their proper selves.    [_Alon., Seb. &c. draw their swords._
                   You fools! I and my fellows                      60
Are ministers of Fate: the elements,
Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well
Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs
Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish
One dowle that's in my plume: my fellow-ministers                   65
Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,
Your swords are now too massy for your strengths,
And will not be uplifted. But remember,--
For that's my business to you,--that you three
From Milan did supplant good Prospero;                              70
Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it,
Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed
The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have
Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,
Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,                        75
They have bereft; and do pronounce by me:
Lingering perdition--worse than any death
Can be at once--shall step by step attend
You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from,--
Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls                  80
Upon your heads,--is nothing but heart-sorrow
And a clear life ensuing.

  _He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, enter the Shapes
  again, and dance, with mocks and mows, and carrying out the
  table._

_Pros._ Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou
Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring:
Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated                           85
In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life
And observation strange, my meaner ministers
Their several kinds have done. My high charms work,
And these mine enemies are all knit up
In their distractions: they now are in my power;                    90
And in these fits I leave them, while I visit
Young Ferdinand,--whom they suppose is drown'd,--
And his and mine loved darling.    [_Exit above._

_Gon._ I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand you
In this strange stare?

_Alon._              O, it is monstrous, monstrous!                 95
Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it;
The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced
The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.
Therefore my son i' th' ooze is bedded; and                        100
I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded,
And with him there lie mudded.    [_Exit._

_Seb._                       But one fiend at a time,
I'll fight their legions o'er.

_Ant._                       I'll be thy second.

    [_Exeunt Seb. and Ant._

_Gon._ All three of them are desperate: their great guilt,
Like poison given to work a great time after,                      105
Now 'gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you,
That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly,
And hinder them from what this ecstasy
May now provoke them to.

_Adr._                 Follow, I pray you.    [_Exeunt._

  Notes: III, 3.

  2: _ache_] _ake_ F2 F3 F4. _akes_ F1.
  3: _forth-rights_] F2 F3 F4. _fourth rights_ F1.
  8: _flatterer_] F1. _flatterers_ F2 F3 F4.
  17: Prospero above] Malone. Prosper on the top Ff. See note (XIV).
  20: _were_] F1 F2 F3. _are_ F4.
  26: _'tis true_] _to 't_ Steevens conj.
  _did lie_] _lied_ Hanmer.
  29: _islanders_] F2 F3 F4. _islands_ F1.
  32: _gentle-kind_] Theobald. _gentle, kind_ Ff. _gentle kind_ Rowe.
  36: _muse_] F1 F2 F3. _muse_, F4. _muse_; Capell.
  48: _of five for one_] Ff. _on five for one_ Theobald.
    _of one for five_ Malone, (Thirlby conj.) See note (XV).
  49-51: _I will ... past_] Mason conjectured that these lines formed
    a rhyming couplet.
  53: SCENE IV. Pope.
  54: _instrument_] _instruments_ F4.
  56: _belch up you_] F1 F2 F3. _belch you up_ F4. _belch up_ Theobald.
  60: [... draw their swords] Hanmer.
  65: _dowle_] _down_ Pope.]
  _plume_] Rowe. _plumbe_ F1 F2 F3. _plumb_ F4.
  67: _strengths_] _strength_ F4.
  79: _wraths_] _wrath_ Theobald.
  81: _heart-sorrow_] Edd. _hearts-sorrow_ Ff. _heart's-sorrow_ Rowe.
    _heart's sorrow_ Pope.
  82: mocks] mopps Theobald.
  86: _life_] _list_ Johnson conj.
  90: _now_] om. Pope.
  92: _whom_] _who_ Hanmer.
  93: _mine_] _my_ Rowe.
  [Exit above] Theobald.]
  94: _something holy, sir_,] _something, holy Sir_, F4.
  99: _bass_] Johnson. _base_ Ff.
  106: _do_] om. Pope.

Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, and their companion lords become exhausted, and Alonso gives up all hope of finding his son. Antonio, still hoping to kill Alonso, whispers to Sebastian that Alonso's exhaustion and desperation will provide them with the perfect opportunity to kill the king later that evening. At this point "solemn and strange music" fills the stage , and a procession of spirits in "several strange shapes" enters, bringing a banquet of food . The spirits dance about the table, invite the king and his party to eat, and then dance away. Prospero enters at this time as well, having rendered himself magically invisible to everyone but the audience. The men disagree at first about whether to eat, but Gonzalo persuades them it will be all right, noting that travelers are returning every day with stories of unbelievable but true events. This, he says, might be just such an event. Just as the men are about to eat, however, a noise of thunder erupts, and Ariel enters in the shape of a harpy. He claps his wings upon the table and the banquet vanishes. Ariel mocks the men for attempting to draw their swords, which magically have been made to feel heavy. Calling himself an instrument of Fate and Destiny, he goes on to accuse Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio of driving Prospero from Milan and leaving him and his child at the mercy of the sea. For this sin, he tells them, the powers of nature and the sea have exacted revenge on Alonso by taking Ferdinand. He vanishes, and the procession of spirits enters again and removes the banquet table. Prospero, still invisible, applauds the work of his spirit and announces with satisfaction that his enemies are now in his control. He leaves them in their distracted state and goes to visit with Ferdinand and his daughter. Alonso, meanwhile, is quite desperate. He has heard the name of Prospero once more, and it has signaled the death of his own son. He runs to drown himself. Sebastian and Antonio, meanwhile, decide to pursue and fight with the spirits. Gonzalo, ever the voice of reason, tells the other, younger lords to run after Antonio, Sebastian, and Alonso and to make sure that none of the three does anything rash.

Analysis Ariel's appearance as an avenging harpy represents the climax of Prospero's revenge, as Antonio, Alonso, and the other lords are confronted with their crimes and threatened with punishment. From Prospero's perspective, the disguised Ariel represents justice and the powers of nature. He has arrived to right the wrongs that have been done to Prospero, and to punish the wicked for their sins. However, the audience knows that Ariel is not an angel or representative of a higher moral power, but merely mouths the script that Prospero has taught him. Ariel's only true concern, of course, is to win his freedom from Prospero. Thus, the vision of justice presented in this scene is artificial and staged. Ariel's display has less to do with fate or justice than with Prospero's ability to manipulate the thoughts and feelings of others. Just as his frequent recitations of history to Ariel, Miranda, and Caliban are designed to govern their thinking by imposing his own rhetoric upon it, Prospero's decision to use Ariel as an illusory instrument of "fate" is designed to govern the thinking of the nobles at the table by imposing his own ideas of justice and right action upon their minds. Whether or not Prospero's case is really just--as it may well be--his use of Ariel in this scene is done purely to further his persuasion and control. He knows that a supernatural creature claiming to represent nature will make a greater impression in advancing his argument than he himself could hope to. If Prospero simply appeared before the table and stated his case, it would seem tainted with selfish desire. However, for Ariel to present Prospero's case in this fashion makes it seem like the inevitable natural order of the universe--even though Prospero himself is behind everything Ariel says. This state of affairs gets at the heart of the central problem of reading The Tempest. The play seems to present Prospero's notion of justice as the only viable one, but it simultaneously undercuts Prospero's notion of justice by presenting the artificiality of his method of obtaining justice. We are left to wonder if justice really exists when it appears that only a sorcerer can bring about justice. Alternatively, Prospero's manipulations may put us in mind of what playwrights do when they arrange events into meaningful patterns, rewarding the good and punishing the bad.


SOME writers have so confounded society with government, as to leave
little or no distinction between them; whereas they are not only
different, but have different origins. Society is produced by our
wants, and government by wickedness; the former promotes our
happiness POSITIVELY by uniting our affections, the latter
NEGATIVELY by restraining our vices. The one encourages
intercourse, the other creates distinctions. The first is a patron,
the last a punisher.

Society in every state is a blessing, but government even in its
best state is but a necessary evil; in its worst state an intolerable
one; for when we suffer, or are exposed to the same miseries BY A
GOVERNMENT, which we might expect in a country WITHOUT GOVERNMENT,
our calamity is heightened by reflecting that we furnish the means by
which we suffer. Government, like dress, is the badge of lost
innocence; the palaces of kings are built on the ruins of the bowers
of paradise. For were the impulses of conscience clear, uniform, and
irresistibly obeyed, man would need no other lawgiver; but that not
being the case, he finds it necessary to surrender up a part of his
property to furnish means for the protection of the rest; and this he
is induced to do by the same prudence which in every other case
advises him out of two evils to choose the least. WHEREFORE,
security being the true design and end of government, it unanswerably
follows that whatever FORM thereof appears most likely to ensure it
to us, with the least expence and greatest benefit, is preferable to
all others.

In order to gain a clear and just idea of the design and end of
government, let us suppose a small number of persons settled in some
sequestered part of the earth, unconnected with the rest, they will
then represent the first peopling of any country, or of the world. In
this state of natural liberty, society will be their first thought. A
thousand motives will excite them thereto, the strength of one man is
so unequal to his wants, and his mind so unfitted for perpetual
solitude, that he is soon obliged to seek assistance and relief of
another, who in his turn requires the same. Four or five united would
be able to raise a tolerable dwelling in the midst of a wilderness,
but ONE man might labour out the common period of life without
accomplishing any thing; when he had felled his timber he could not
remove it, nor erect it after it was removed; hunger in the mean time
would urge him from his work, and every different want call him a
different way. Disease, nay even misfortune would be death, for
though neither might be mortal, yet either would disable him from
living, and reduce him to a state in which he might rather be said to
perish than to die.

This necessity, like a gravitating power, would soon form our newly
arrived emigrants into society, the reciprocal blessing of which,
would supersede, and render the obligations of law and government
unnecessary while they remained perfectly just to each other; but as
nothing but heaven is impregnable to vice, it will unavoidably
happen, that in proportion as they surmount the first difficulties of
emigration, which bound them together in a common cause, they will
begin to relax in their duty and attachment to each other; and this
remissness, will point out the necessity, of establishing some form
of government to supply the defect of moral virtue.

Some convenient tree will afford them a State-House, under the
branches of which, the whole colony may assemble to deliberate on
public matters. It is more than probable that their first laws will
have the title only of REGULATIONS, and be enforced by no other
penalty than public disesteem. In this first parliament every man, by
natural right, will have a seat.

But as the colony increases, the public concerns will increase
likewise, and the distance at which the members may be separated,
will render it too inconvenient for all of them to meet on every
occasion as at first, when their number was small, their habitations
near, and the public concerns few and trifling. This will point out
the convenience of their consenting to leave the legislative part to
be managed by a select number chosen from the whole body, who are
supposed to have the same concerns at stake which those have who
appointed them, and who will act in the same manner as the whole body
would act were they present. If the colony continues increasing, it
will become necessary to augment the number of the representatives,
and that the interest of every part of the colony may be attended to,
it will be found best to divide the whole into convenient parts, each
part sending its proper number; and that the ELECTED might never
form to themselves an interest separate from the ELECTORS, prudence
will point out the propriety of having elections often; because as
the ELECTED might by that means return and mix again with the
general body of the ELECTORS in a few months, their fidelity to the
public will be secured by the prudent reflexion of not making a rod
for themselves. And as this frequent interchange will establish a
common interest with every part of the community, they will mutually
and naturally support each other, and on this (not on the unmeaning
name of king) depends the STRENGTH OF GOVERNMENT, AND THE HAPPINESS
OF THE GOVERNED.

Here then is the origin and rise of government; namely, a mode
rendered necessary by the inability of moral virtue to govern the
world; here too is the design and end of government, viz. freedom and
security. And however our eyes may be dazzled with snow, or our ears
deceived by sound; however prejudice may warp our wills, or interest
darken our understanding, the simple voice of nature and of reason
will say, it is right.

I draw my idea of the form of government from a principle in
nature, which no art can overturn, viz. that the more simple any
thing is, the less liable it is to be disordered, and the easier
repaired when disordered; and with this maxim in view, I offer a few
remarks on the so much boasted constitution of England. That it was
noble for the dark and slavish times in which it was erected, is
granted. When the world was over run with tyranny the least remove
therefrom was a glorious rescue. But that it is imperfect, subject to
convulsions, and incapable of producing what it seems to promise, is
easily demonstrated.

Absolute governments (tho' the disgrace of human nature) have this
advantage with them, that they are simple; if the people suffer, they
know the head from which their suffering springs, know likewise the
remedy, and are not bewildered by a variety of causes and cures. But
the constitution of England is so exceedingly complex, that the
nation may suffer for years together without being able to discover
in which part the fault lies, some will say in one and some in
another, and every political physician will advise a different
medicine.

I know it is difficult to get over local or long standing
prejudices, yet if we will suffer ourselves to examine the component
parts of the English constitution, we shall find them to be the base
remains of two ancient tyrannies, compounded with some new republican
materials.

FIRST. The remains of monarchical tyranny in the person of the
king.

SECONDLY. The remains of aristocratical tyranny in the persons of
the peers.

THIRDLY. The new republican materials, in the persons of the
commons, on whose virtue depends the freedom of England.

The two first, by being hereditary, are independent of the people;
wherefore in a CONSTITUTIONAL SENSE they contribute nothing towards
the freedom of the state.

To say that the constitution of England is a UNION of three
powers reciprocally CHECKING each other, is farcical, either the
words have no meaning, or they are flat contradictions.

To say that the commons is a check upon the king, presupposes two
things.

FIRST. That the king is not to be trusted without being looked
after, or in other words, that a thirst for absolute power is the
natural disease of monarchy.

SECONDLY. That the commons, by being appointed for that purpose,
are either wiser or more worthy of confidence than the crown.

But as the same constitution which gives the commons a power to
check the king by withholding the supplies, gives afterwards the king
a power to check the commons, by empowering him to reject their other
bills; it again supposes that the king is wiser than those whom it
has already supposed to be wiser than him. A mere absurdity!

There is something exceedingly ridiculous in the composition of
monarchy; it first excludes a man from the means of information, yet
empowers him to act in cases where the highest judgment is required.
The state of a king shuts him from the world, yet the business of a
king requires him to know it thoroughly; wherefore the different
parts, by unnaturally opposing and destroying each other, prove the
whole character to be absurd and useless.

Some writers have explained the English constitution thus; the
king, say they, is one, the people another; the peers are an house in
behalf of the king; the commons in behalf of the people; but this
hath all the distinctions of an house divided against itself; and
though the expressions be pleasantly arranged, yet when examined they
appear idle and ambiguous; and it will always happen, that the nicest
construction that words are capable of, when applied to the
description of some thing which either cannot exist, or is too
incomprehensible to be within the compass of description, will be
words of sound only, and though they may amuse the ear, they cannot
inform the mind, for this explanation includes a previous question,
viz. HOW CAME THE KING BY A POWER WHICH THE PEOPLE ARE AFRAID TO
TRUST, AND ALWAYS OBLIGED TO CHECK? Such a power could not be the
gift of a wise people, neither can any power, WHICH NEEDS CHECKING,
be from God; yet the provision, which the constitution makes,
supposes such a power to exist.

But the provision is unequal to the task; the means either cannot
or will not accomplish the end, and the whole affair is a felo de se;
for as the greater weight will always carry up the less, and as all
the wheels of a machine are put in motion by one, it only remains to
know which power in the constitution has the most weight, for that
will govern; and though the others, or a part of them, may clog, or,
as the phrase is, check the rapidity of its motion, yet so long as
they cannot stop it, their endeavors will be ineffectual; the first
moving power will at last have its way, and what it wants in speed is
supplied by time.

That the crown is this overbearing part in the English constitution
needs not be mentioned, and that it derives its whole consequence
merely from being the giver of places and pensions is self-evident;
wherefore, though we have been wise enough to shut and lock a door
against absolute monarchy, we at the same time have been foolish
enough to put the crown in possession of the key.

The prejudice of Englishmen, in favour of their own government by
king, lords and commons, arises as much or more from national pride
than reason. Individuals are undoubtedly safer in England than in
some other countries, but the WILL of the king is as much the LAW
of the land in Britain as in France, with this difference, that
instead of proceeding directly from his mouth, it is handed to the
people under the more formidable shape of an act of parliament. For
the fate of Charles the first, hath only made kings more subtle--not
more just.

Wherefore, laying aside all national pride and prejudice in favour
of modes and forms, the plain truth is, that IT IS WHOLLY OWING TO
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE PEOPLE, AND NOT TO THE CONSTITUTION OF THE
GOVERNMENT that the crown is not as oppressive in England as in
Turkey.

An inquiry into the CONSTITUTIONAL ERRORS in the English form of
government is at this time highly necessary; for as we are never in a
proper condition of doing justice to others, while we continue under
the influence of some leading partiality, so neither are we capable
of doing it to ourselves while we remain fettered by any obstinate
prejudice. And as a man, who is attached to a prostitute, is unfitted
to choose or judge of a wife, so any prepossession in favour of a
rotten constitution of government will disable us from discerning a
good one.

of Part One: Of the Origin and Design of Government in General, With Concise Remarks on the English Constitution. This part gives a philosophical background on the nature of government. Paine makes a distinction between society and government. Society is based on our wants and is a blessing, but government is a necessary evil that restrains wrongdoers from disrupting society. Government is for the purpose of security of the citizens. In a state of natural liberty, society is a desire to be with other people for affection and help. Because humans are not perfect, there will be disagreement among them, and then government must "supply the defect of moral virtue" . In an imagined first parliament among men, Paine says every person would be there. Later, parliaments had to be ruled by a selection of representatives chosen from the whole populace. It is a good idea to have frequent elections, for the sake of refreshing the government and making sure of the common interest of all parties. Frequent interchange and common interest are mentioned as the most important principles of government and the "happiness of the governed" . Having established what he calls natural and simple principles of government, he then examines the British Constitution. He grants that it was a noble document for the times when tyranny ruled the world. It is however, too complex and imperfect. First, it is based on the ancient tyranny of having a king; second, on the tyranny of aristocracy; and third, the republican commons are not totally free. A king and aristocracy are hereditary and independent of the people. The commons are elected, but these three houses are not equal in power and therefore, do not constitute a system of checks and balances. Instead, the British government is "a house divided against itself" . Paine attacks the idea of monarchy. The king shuts himself from the world and is no wiser than other men. The parliamentary houses are supposed to check his power. If they need to check the king, then his power cannot be from God . The English pride in its government is not reasonable but a matter of nationalism. The will of the king rules in England as well as in France.

Commentary on Part One: Of the Origin and Design of Government in General, With Concise Remarks on the English Constitution. Paine first tries to set up the simple idea of the purpose of government. It is just a convenience, a necessary evil to protect society from itself; therefore, a useful tool that evolved over time rather than something sacred. He wants to establish this point to refute those colonists who insist on being loyal to King George III of England, considering him their monarch. Loyalty to the king was still considered by many to be their sacred duty. If they joined the rebels they would be committing treason to the British crown and to the person of the king. There were many British loyalists in the colonies, and Paine is trying to convince them their loyalty to the king is old-fashioned and misplaced. He is doing public relations for the revolutionaries. For the average conservative person, Paine and his contemporaries were political radicals. This practice of inquiring into the nature and origin of institutions and ideas was a hallmark of the eighteenth century Age of Enlightenment thinkers who asserted that free men must use reason to examine what was previously just accepted by tradition. By tradition, England's three parts of government was considered a legal triumph making England a modern constitutional rather than an absolute monarchy. This advance in social justice removed the absolute tyranny of a king, making everyone, even the king himself, subject to law. Paine points out that since the three components are not equal in power, however, there are no checks and balances. The king still has too much power. He further discredits the idea that kings rule by divine right, that God upholds monarchy. Paine and the American revolutionaries who find monarchy to be out of date precede the French Revolution, which came a decade later and considered the same ideas.


MANKIND being originally equals in the order of creation, the
equality could only be destroyed by some subsequent circumstance; the
distinctions of rich, and poor, may in a great measure be accounted
for, and that without having recourse to the harsh ill sounding names
of oppression and avarice. Oppression is often the CONSEQUENCE, but
seldom or never the MEANS of riches; and though avarice will
preserve a man from being necessitously poor, it generally makes him
too timorous to be wealthy.

But there is another and greater distinction for which no truly
natural or religious reason can be assigned, and that is, the
distinction of men into KINGS and SUBJECTS. Male and female are the
distinctions of nature, good and bad the distinctions of heaven; but
how a race of men came into the world so exalted above the rest, and
distinguished like some new species, is worth enquiring into, and
whether they are the means of happiness or of misery to mankind.

In the early ages of the world, according to the scripture
chronology, there were no kings; the consequence of which was there
were no wars; it is the pride of kings which throw mankind into
confusion. Holland without a king hath enjoyed more peace for this
last century than any of the monarchical governments in Europe.
Antiquity favors the same remark; for the quiet and rural lives of
the first patriarchs hath a happy something in them, which vanishes
away when we come to the history of Jewish royalty.

Government by kings was first introduced into the world by the
Heathens, from whom the children of Israel copied the custom. It was
the most prosperous invention the Devil ever set on foot for the
promotion of idolatry. The Heathens paid divine honors to their
deceased kings, and the christian world hath improved on the plan by
doing the same to their living ones. How impious is the title of
sacred majesty applied to a worm, who in the midst of his splendor is
crumbling into dust!

As the exalting one man so greatly above the rest cannot be
justified on the equal rights of nature, so neither can it be
defended on the authority of scripture; for the will of the Almighty,
as declared by Gideon and the prophet Samuel, expressly disapproves
of government by kings. All anti-monarchical parts of scripture have
been very smoothly glossed over in monarchical governments, but they
undoubtedly merit the attention of countries which have their
governments yet to form. "RENDER UNTO CAESAR THE THINGS WHICH ARE
CAESAR'S" is the scripture doctrine of courts, yet it is no support
of monarchical government, for the Jews at that time were without a
king, and in a state of vassalage to the Romans.

Near three thousand years passed away from the Mosaic account of
the creation, till the Jews under a national delusion requested a
king. Till then their form of government (except in extraordinary
cases, where the Almighty interposed) was a kind of republic
administered by a judge and the elders of the tribes. Kings they had
none, and it was held sinful to acknowledge any being under that
title but the Lord of Hosts. And when a man seriously reflects on the
idolatrous homage which is paid to the persons of Kings, he need not
wonder, that the Almighty ever jealous of his honor, should
disapprove of a form of government which so impiously invades the
prerogative of heaven.

Monarchy is ranked in scripture as one of the sins of the Jews, for
which a curse in reserve is denounced against them. The history of
that transaction is worth attending to.

The children of Israel being oppressed by the Midianites, Gideon
marched against them with a small army, and victory, thro' the divine
interposition, decided in his favour. The Jews elate with success,
and attributing it to the generalship of Gideon, proposed making him
a king, saying, RULE THOU OVER US, THOU AND THY SON AND THY SON'S
SON. Here was temptation in its fullest extent; not a kingdom only,
but an hereditary one, but Gideon in the piety of his soul replied,
I WILL NOT RULE OVER YOU, NEITHER SHALL MY SON RULE OVER YOU. THE
LORD SHALL RULE OVER YOU. Words need not be more explicit; Gideon
doth not DECLINE the honor, but denieth their right to give it;
neither doth he compliment them with invented declarations of his
thanks, but in the positive stile of a prophet charges them with
disaffection to their proper Sovereign, the King of heaven.

About one hundred and thirty years after this, they fell again into
the same error. The hankering which the Jews had for the idolatrous
customs of the Heathens, is something exceedingly unaccountable; but
so it was, that laying hold of the misconduct of Samuel's two sons,
who were entrusted with some secular concerns, they came in an abrupt
and clamorous manner to Samuel, saying, BEHOLD THOU ART OLD, AND THY
SONS WALK NOT IN THY WAYS, NOW MAKE US A KING TO JUDGE US LIKE ALL
THE OTHER NATIONS. And here we cannot but observe that their motives
were bad, viz. that they might be LIKE unto other nations, i. e.
the Heathens, whereas their true glory laid in being as much UNLIKE
them as possible. BUT THE THING DISPLEASED SAMUEL WHEN THEY SAID,
GIVE US A KING TO JUDGE US; AND SAMUEL PRAYED UNTO THE LORD, AND THE
LORD SAID UNTO SAMUEL, HEARKEN UNTO THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE IN ALL
THAT THEY SAY UNTO THEE, FOR THEY HAVE NOT REJECTED THEE, BUT THEY
HAVE REJECTED ME, THAT I SHOULD NOT REIGN OVER THEM. ACCORDING TO
ALL THE WORKS WHICH THEY HAVE DONE SINCE THE DAY THAT I BROUGHT THEM
UP OUT OF EGYPT, EVEN UNTO THIS DAY; WHEREWITH THEY HAVE FORSAKEN ME
AND SERVED OTHER GODS; SO DO THEY ALSO UNTO THEE. NOW THEREFORE
HEARKEN UNTO THEIR VOICE, HOWBEIT, PROTEST SOLEMNLY UNTO THEM AND
SHEW THEM THE MANNER OF THE KING THAT SHALL REIGN OVER THEM, I. E.
not of any particular king, but the general manner of the kings of
the earth, whom Israel was so eagerly copying after. And
notwithstanding the great distance of time and difference of manners,
the character is still in fashion. AND SAMUEL TOLD ALL THE WORDS OF
THE LORD UNTO THE PEOPLE, THAT ASKED OF HIM A KING. AND HE SAID, THIS
SHALL BE THE MANNER OF THE KING THAT SHALL REIGN OVER YOU; HE WILL
TAKE YOUR SONS AND APPOINT THEM FOR HIMSELF, FOR HIS CHARIOTS, AND TO
BE HIS HORSEMEN, AND SOME SHALL RUN BEFORE HIS CHARIOTS (this
description agrees with the present mode of impressing men) AND HE
WILL APPOINT HIM CAPTAINS OVER THOUSANDS AND CAPTAINS OVER FIFTIES,
AND WILL SET THEM TO EAR HIS GROUND AND TO READ HIS HARVEST, AND TO
MAKE HIS INSTRUMENTS OF WAR, AND INSTRUMENTS OF HIS CHARIOTS; AND HE
WILL TAKE YOUR DAUGHTERS TO BE CONFECTIONARIES, AND TO BE COOKS AND
TO BE BAKERS (this describes the expence and luxury as well as the
oppression of kings) AND HE WILL TAKE YOUR FIELDS AND YOUR OLIVE
YARDS, EVEN THE BEST OF THEM, AND GIVE THEM TO HIS SERVANTS; AND HE
WILL TAKE THE TENTH OF YOUR FEED, AND OF YOUR VINEYARDS, AND GIVE
THEM TO HIS OFFICERS AND TO HIS SERVANTS (by which we see that
bribery, corruption, and favoritism are the standing vices of kings)
AND HE WILL TAKE THE TENTH OF YOUR MEN SERVANTS, AND YOUR MAID
SERVANTS, AND YOUR GOODLIEST YOUNG MEN AND YOUR ASSES, AND PUT THEM
TO HIS WORK; AND HE WILL TAKE THE TENTH OF YOUR SHEEP, AND YE SHALL
BE HIS SERVANTS, AND YE SHALL CRY OUT IN THAT DAY BECAUSE OF YOUR
KING WHICH YE SHALL HAVE CHOSEN, AND THE LORD WILL NOT HEAR YOU IN
THAT DAY. This accounts for the continuation of monarchy; neither do
the characters of the few good kings which have lived since, either
sanctify the title, or blot out the sinfulness of the origin; the
high encomium given of David takes no notice of him OFFICIALLY AS A
KING, but only as a MAN after God's own heart. NEVERTHELESS THE
PEOPLE REFUSED TO OBEY THE VOICE OF SAMUEL, AND THEY SAID, NAY, BUT
WE WILL HAVE A KING OVER US, THAT WE MAY BE LIKE ALL THE NATIONS, AND
THAT OUR KING MAY JUDGE US, AND GO OUT BEFORE US, AND FIGHT OUR
BATTLES. Samuel continued to reason with them, but to no purpose; he
set before them their ingratitude, but all would not avail; and
seeing them fully bent on their folly, he cried out, I WILL CALL
UNTO THE LORD, AND HE SHALL SEND THUNDER AND RAIN (which then was a
punishment, being in the time of wheat harvest) THAT YE MAY PERCEIVE
AND SEE THAT YOUR WICKEDNESS IS GREAT WHICH YE HAVE DONE IN THE SIGHT
OF THE LORD, IN ASKING YOU A KING. SO SAMUEL CALLED UNTO THE LORD,
AND THE LORD SENT THUNDER AND RAIN THAT DAY, AND ALL THE PEOPLE
GREATLY FEARED THE LORD AND SAMUEL. AND ALL THE PEOPLE SAID UNTO
SAMUEL, PRAY FOR THY SERVANTS UNTO THE LORD THY GOD THAT WE DIE NOT,
FOR WE HAVE ADDED UNTO OUR SINS THIS EVIL, TO ASK A KING. These
portions of scripture are direct and positive. They admit of no
equivocal construction. That the Almighty hath here entered his
protest against monarchical government is true, or the scripture is
false. And a man hath good reason to believe that there is as much of
king-craft, as priest-craft, in withholding the scripture from the
public in Popish countries. For monarchy in every instance is the
Popery of government.

To the evil of monarchy we have added that of hereditary
succession; and as the first is a degradation and lessening of
ourselves, so the second, claimed as a matter of right, is an insult
and an imposition on posterity. For all men being originally equals,
no ONE by BIRTH could have a right to set up his own family in
perpetual preference to all others for ever, and though himself might
deserve SOME decent degree of honors of his cotemporaries, yet his
descendants might be far too unworthy to inherit them. One of the
strongest NATURAL proofs of the folly of hereditary right in kings,
is, that nature disapproves it, otherwise, she would not so
frequently turn it into ridicule by giving mankind an ASS FOR A
LION.

Secondly, as no man at first could possess any other public honors
than were bestowed upon him, so the givers of those honors could have
no power to give away the right of posterity, and though they might
say "We choose you for OUR head," they could not, without manifest
injustice to their children, say "that your children and your
children's children shall reign over OURS for ever." Because such
an unwise, unjust, unnatural compact might (perhaps) in the next
succession put them under the government of a rogue or a fool. Most
wise men, in their private sentiments, have ever treated hereditary
right with contempt; yet it is one of those evils, which when once
established is not easily removed; many submit from fear, others from
superstition, and the more powerful part shares with the king the
plunder of the rest.

This is supposing the present race of kings in the world to have
had an honorable origin; whereas it is more than probable, that could
we take off the dark covering of antiquity, and trace them to their
first rise, that we should find the first of them nothing better than
the principal ruffian of some restless gang, whose savage manners or
pre-eminence in subtility obtained him the title of chief among
plunderers; and who by increasing in power, and extending his
depredations, over-awed the quiet and defenceless to purchase their
safety by frequent contributions. Yet his electors could have no idea
of giving hereditary right to his descendants, because such a
perpetual exclusion of themselves was incompatible with the free and
unrestrained principles they professed to live by. Wherefore,
hereditary succession in the early ages of monarchy could not take
place as a matter of claim, but as something casual or complimental;
but as few or no records were extant in those days, and traditionary
history stuffed with fables, it was very easy, after the lapse of a
few generations, to trump up some superstitious tale, conveniently
timed, Mahomet like, to cram hereditary right down the throats of the
vulgar. Perhaps the disorders which threatened, or seemed to
threaten, on the decease of a leader and the choice of a new one (for
elections among ruffians could not be very orderly) induced many at
first to favor hereditary pretensions; by which means it happened, as
it hath happened since, that what at first was submitted to as a
convenience, was afterwards claimed as a right.

England, since the conquest, hath known some few good monarchs, but
groaned beneath a much larger number of bad ones; yet no man in his
senses can say that their claim under William the Conqueror is a very
honorable one. A French bastard landing with an armed banditti, and
establishing himself king of England against the consent of the
natives, is in plain terms a very paltry rascally original. It
certainly hath no divinity in it. However, it is needless to spend
much time in exposing the folly of hereditary right, if there are any
so weak as to believe it, let them promiscuously worship the ass and
lion, and welcome. I shall neither copy their humility, nor disturb
their devotion.

Yet I should be glad to ask how they suppose kings came at first?
The question admits but of three answers, viz. either by lot, by
election, or by usurpation. If the first king was taken by lot, it
establishes a precedent for the next, which excludes hereditary
succession. Saul was by lot, yet the succession was not hereditary,
neither does it appear from that transaction there was any intention
it ever should. If the first king of any country was by election,
that likewise establishes a precedent for the next; for to say, that
the RIGHT of all future generations is taken away, by the act of
the first electors, in their choice not only of a king, but of a
family of kings for ever, hath no parrallel in or out of scripture
but the doctrine of original sin, which supposes the free will of all
men lost in Adam; and from such comparison, and it will admit of no
other, hereditary succession can derive no glory. For as in Adam all
sinned, and as in the first electors all men obeyed; as in the one
all mankind were subjected to Satan, and in the other to Sovereignty;
as our innocence was lost in the first, and our authority in the
last; and as both disable us from reassuming some former state and
privilege, it unanswerably follows that original sin and hereditary
succession are parallels. Dishonorable rank! Inglorious connexion!
Yet the most subtile sophist cannot produce a juster simile.

As to usurpation, no man will be so hardy as to defend it; and that
William the Conqueror was an usurper is a fact not to be
contradicted. The plain truth is, that the antiquity of English
monarchy will not bear looking into.

But it is not so much the absurdity as the evil of hereditary
succession which concerns mankind. Did it ensure a race of good and
wise men it would have the seal of divine authority, but as it opens
a door to the FOOLISH, the WICKED, and the IMPROPER, it hath in
it the nature of oppression. Men who look upon themselves born to
reign, and others to obey, soon grow insolent; selected from the rest
of mankind their minds are early poisoned by importance; and the
world they act in differs so materially from the world at large, that
they have but little opportunity of knowing its true interests, and
when they succeed to the government are frequently the most ignorant
and unfit of any throughout the dominions.

Another evil which attends hereditary succession is, that the
throne is subject to be possessed by a minor at any age; all which
time the regency, acting under the cover of a king, have every
opportunity and inducement to betray their trust. The same national
misfortune happens, when a king worn out with age and infirmity,
enters the last stage of human weakness. In both these cases the
public becomes a prey to every miscreant, who can tamper successfully
with the follies either of age or infancy.

The most plausible plea, which hath ever been offered in favour of
hereditary succession, is, that it preserves a nation from civil
wars; and were this true, it would be weighty; whereas, it is the
most barefaced falsity ever imposed upon mankind. The whole history
of England disowns the fact. Thirty kings and two minors have reigned
in that distracted kingdom since the conquest, in which time there
have been (including the Revolution) no less than eight civil wars
and nineteen rebellions. Wherefore instead of making for peace, it
makes against it, and destroys the very foundation it seems to stand
on.

The contest for monarchy and succession, between the houses of York
and Lancaster, laid England in a scene of blood for many years.
Twelve pitched battles, besides skirmishes and sieges, were fought
between Henry and Edward. Twice was Henry prisoner to Edward, who in
his turn was prisoner to Henry. And so uncertain is the fate of war
and the temper of a nation, when nothing but personal matters are the
ground of a quarrel, that Henry was taken in triumph from a prison to
a palace, and Edward obliged to fly from a palace to a foreign land;
yet, as sudden transitions of temper are seldom lasting, Henry in his
turn was driven from the throne, and Edward recalled to succeed him.
The parliament always following the strongest side.

This contest began in the reign of Henry the Sixth, and was not
entirely extinguished till Henry the Seventh, in whom the families
were united. Including a period of 67 years, viz. from 1422 to 1489.

In short, monarchy and succession have laid (not this or that
kingdom only) but the world in blood and ashes. 'Tis a form of
government which the word of God bears testimony against, and blood
will attend it.

If we inquire into the business of a king, we shall find that in
some countries they have none; and after sauntering away their lives
without pleasure to themselves or advantage to the nation, withdraw
from the scene, and leave their successors to tread the same idle
round. In absolute monarchies the whole weight of business, civil and
military, lies on the king; the children of Israel in their request
for a king, urged this plea "that he may judge us, and go out before
us and fight our battles." But in countries where he is neither a
judge nor a general, as in England, a man would be puzzled to know
what IS his business.

The nearer any government approaches to a republic the less
business there is for a king. It is somewhat difficult to find a
proper name for the government of England. Sir William Meredith calls
it a republic; but in its present state it is unworthy of the name,
because the corrupt influence of the crown, by having all the places
in its disposal, hath so effectually swallowed up the power, and
eaten out the virtue of the house of commons (the republican part in
the constitution) that the government of England is nearly as
monarchical as that of France or Spain. Men fall out with names
without understanding them. For it is the republican and not the
monarchical part of the constitution of England which Englishmen
glory in, viz. the liberty of choosing an house of commons from out
of their own body--and it is easy to see that when republican virtue
fails, slavery ensues. Why is the constitution of England sickly, but
because monarchy hath poisoned the republic, the crown hath engrossed
the commons?

In England a king hath little more to do than to make war and give
away places; which in plain terms, is to impoverish the nation and
set it together by the ears. A pretty business indeed for a man to be
allowed eight hundred thousand sterling a year for, and worshipped
into the bargain! Of more worth is one honest man to society and in
the sight of God, than all the crowned ruffians that ever lived.

of Monarchy and Hereditary Succession Paine goes into more detail on arguments against monarchy. First of all, men were originally equal in creation. The idea of social order came later, especially the idea of a king and his subjects. According to the Bible, there were no kings in the beginning. Monarchy was an idea introduced to the Jews by heathens. It was originally a sin for the Jews because the Lord was king. Paine goes into a long passage on Biblical history, citing the example of Samuel, whom the people begged to be king and to appoint an heir, but he refused because a king made slaves of his subjects, took their goods, and took the place of God. On top of this evil is added hereditary succession, in which one family is set up in preference to others. England has had a few good kings, says the author, but they had no divinity. There are wars over succession and usurpation of thrones. Kingship is thus a parallel of original sin. The men of England are not so proud of their king as of their republicanism--the idea of equality of all before the law.

Commentary on Of Monarchy and Hereditary Succession Paine makes the subject of monarchy a major consideration in his argument for separation from England. He taps into the glamour of these new radical ideas that were breathtaking to liberals of the day, not only in America, but in Europe. America was seen as the stage where this new philosophy of equality could be tested and played out. Many Europeans were sympathetic to the abolition of monarchy, which seemed to have led to so many wars and inequality of opportunity. Paine points out that the primary job of monarchs is to make war to increase territory and to hand out posts and privileges to secure their position. This does not serve the people or make sense in a rational age. England has always prided itself on being modern, but Paine tries to make Britain look incompetently out of date by adhering to monarchy.