ACT I. SCENE I.

On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise of thunder
and lightning heard._

  _Enter _a Ship-Master_ and _a Boatswain_._

_Mast._ Boatswain!

_Boats._ Here, master: what cheer?

_Mast._ Good, speak to the mariners: fall to't, yarely, or
we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.    [_Exit._

  _Enter _Mariners_._

_Boats._ Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!              5
yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master's
whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough!

  _Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO,
  and others._

_Alon._ Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master?
Play the men.

_Boats._ I pray now, keep below.                                    10

_Ant._ Where is the master, boatswain?

_Boats._ Do you not hear him? You mar our labour:
keep your cabins: you do assist the storm.

_Gon._ Nay, good, be patient.

_Boats._ When the sea is. Hence! What cares these                   15
roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble
us not.

_Gon._ Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

_Boats._ None that I more love than myself. You are a
Counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence,           20
and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope
more; use your authority: if you cannot, give thanks you
have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin
for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good
hearts! Out of our way, I say.    [_Exit._                          25

_Gon._ I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks
he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is
perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging:
make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth
little advantage. If he be not born to be hanged, our case          30
is miserable.    [_Exeunt._

  _Re-enter Boatswain._

_Boats._ Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower!
Bring her to try with main-course. [_A cry within._] A
plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather
or our office.                                                      35

  _Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO._

Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er, and
drown? Have you a mind to sink?

_Seb._ A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,
incharitable dog!

_Boats._ Work you, then.                                            40

_Ant._ Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noise-maker.
We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

_Gon._ I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship
were no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched
wench.                                                              45

_Boats._ Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off
to sea again; lay her off.

  _Enter _Mariners_ wet._

_Mariners._ All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!

_Boats._ What, must our mouths be cold?

_Gon._ The king and prince at prayers! let's assist them,           50
For our case is as theirs.

_Seb._                   I'm out of patience.

_Ant._ We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:
This wide-chapp'd rascal,--would thou mightst lie drowning
The washing of ten tides!

_Gon._                  He'll be hang'd yet,
Though every drop of water swear against it,                        55
And gape at widest to glut him.

  [_A confused noise within:_ "Mercy on us!"--
  "We split, we split!"-- "Farewell my wife and children!"--
  "Farewell, brother!"-- "We split, we split, we split!"]

_Ant._ Let's all sink with the king.                                60

_Seb._ Let's take leave of him. [_Exeunt Ant. and Seb._

_Gon._ Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for
an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any
thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a
dry death.    [_Exeunt._                                            65

  Notes: I, 1.

  SC. I. On a ship at sea] Pope.
  Enter ... Boatswain] Collier MS. adds 'shaking off wet.'
  3: _Good,_] Rowe. _Good:_ Ff. _Good._ Collier.
  7: _till thou burst thy wind_] _till thou burst, wind_ Johnson conj.
    _till thou burst thee, wind_ Steevens conj.
  8: Capell adds stage direction [Exeunt Mariners aloft.
  11: _boatswain_] Pope. _boson_ Ff.
  11-18: Verse. S. Walker conj.
  15: _cares_] _care_ Rowe. See note (I).
  31:  [Exeunt] Theobald. [Exit. Ff.
  33: _Bring her to try_] F4. _Bring her to Try_ F1 F2 F3.
    _Bring her to. Try_ Story conj.
  33-35: Text as in Capell. _A plague_--A cry within. Enter Sebastian,
    Anthonio, and Gonzalo. _upon this howling._ Ff.
  34-37: Verse. S. Walker conj.
  43: _for_] _from_ Theobald.
  46: _two courses off to sea_] _two courses; off to sea_ Steevens
    (Holt conj.).
  46: [Enter...] [Re-enter... Dyce.
  47: [Exeunt. Theobald.
  50: _at_] _are at_ Rowe.
  50-54: Printed as prose in Ff.
  56: _to glut_] _t' englut_ Johnson conj.
  57: See note (II).
  59: _Farewell, brother!_] _Brother, farewell!_ Theobald.
  60: _with the_] Rowe. _with'_ F1 F2. _with_ F3 F4.
  61: [Exeunt A. and S.] [Exit. Ff.
  63: _furze_ Rowe. _firrs_ F1 F2 F3. _firs_ F4.
  _long heath, brown furze_] _ling, heath, broom, furze_ Hanmer.]
  65: [Exeunt] [Exit F1, om. F2 F3 F4.]

Sailors try to keep a ship from running aground on the rocks in a stormy sea. The passengers are Alonso, the King of Naples, Alonso's son Ferdinand, Alonso's brother Sebastian, Alonso's advisor Gonzalo, and Antonio. The boatswain says that even kings cannot "command these elements" of wind and water, and tells Antonio and Sebastian that they can either "keep below" or help the sailors. The noblemen take offense at being ordered around by a mere sailor, and both show a mean-tempered streak in this encounter. Suddenly, a panic seizes the sailors, and they declare "all lost," surrendering themselves, and their ship, to the vicious storm. Antonio and Sebastian also fear the worst, and go below to say goodbye to the king, Alonso

A violent storm rages around a small ship at sea. The master of the ship calls for his boatswain to rouse the mariners to action and prevent the ship from being run aground by the tempest. Chaos ensues. Some mariners enter, followed by a group of nobles comprised of Alonso, King of Naples, Sebastian, his brother, Antonio, Gonzalo, and others. We do not learn these men's names in this scene, nor do we learn  that they have just come from Tunis, in Africa, where Alonso's daughter, Claribel, has been married to the prince. As the Boatswain and his crew take in the topsail and the topmast, Alonso and his party are merely underfoot, and the Boatswain tells them to get below-decks. Gonzalo reminds the Boatswain that one of the passengers is of some importance, but the Boatswain is unmoved. He will do what he has to in order to save the ship, regardless of who is aboard. The lords go belowdecks, and then, adding to the chaos of the scene, three of them--Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo--enter again only four lines later. Sebastian and Antonio curse the Boatswain in his labors, masking their fear with profanity. Some mariners enter wet and crying, and only at this point does the audience learn the identity of the passengers on-board. Gonzalo orders the mariners to pray for the king and the prince. There is a strange noise--perhaps the sound of thunder, splitting wood, or roaring water--and the cry of mariners. Antonio, Sebastian, and Gonzalo, preparing to sink to a watery grave, go in search of the king.

Analysis Even for a Shakespeare play, The Tempest is remarkable for its extraordinary breadth of imaginative vision. The play is steeped in magic and illusion. As a result, the play contains a tremendous amount of spectacle, yet things are often not as they seem. This opening scene certainly contains spectacle, in the form of the howling storm  tossing the little ship about and threatening to kill the characters before the play has even begun. In terms of stagecraft, it was a significant gamble for Shakespeare to open his play with this spectacular natural event, given that, in the early seventeenth century when the play was written, special effects were largely left to the audience's imagination. Shakespeare's stage would have been almost entirely bare, without many physical signs that the actors were supposed to be on a ship, much less a ship in the midst of a lashing storm. As a result, the audience sees Shakespeare calling on all the resources of his theater to establish a certain level of realism. For example, the play begins with a "noise of thunder and lightning" . The first word, "Boatswain!" immediately indicates that the scene is the deck of a ship. In addition, characters rush frantically in and out, often with no purpose--as when Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo exit at line 29 and re-enter at 33, indicating the general level of chaos and confusion. Cries from off-stage create the illusion of a space below-decks. But in addition to this spectacle, the play also uses its first scene to hint at some of the illusions and deceptions it will contain. Most plays of this era, by Shakespeare and others, use the introductory scene to present the main characters and hint at the general narrative to come--so Othello begins with Iago's jealousy, and King Lear begins with Lear's decision to abdicate his throne. But The Tempest begins toward the end of the actual story, late in Prospero's exile. Its opening scene is devoted to what appears to be an unexplained natural phenomenon, in which characters who are never named rush about frantically in service of no apparent plot. In fact, the confusion of the opening is itself misleading, for as we will learn later, the storm is not a natural phenomenon at all, but a deliberate magical conjuring by Prospero, designed to bring the ship to the island. The tempest is, in fact, central to the plot. But there is more going on in this scene than initially meets the eye. The apparently chaotic exchanges of the characters introduce the important motif of master-servant relationships. The characters on the boat are divided into nobles, such as Antonio and Gonzalo, and servants or professionals, such as the Boatswain. The mortal danger of the storm upsets the usual balance between these two groups, and the Boatswain, attempting to save the ship, comes into direct conflict with the hapless nobles, who, despite their helplessness, are extremely irritated at being rudely spoken to by a commoner. The characters in the scene are never named outright; they are only referred to in terms that indicate their social stations: "Boatswain," "Master," "King," and "Prince." As the scene progresses, the characters speak less about the storm than about the class conflict underlying their attempts to survive it--a conflict between masters and servants that, as the story progresses, becomes perhaps the major motif of the play. Gonzalo, for instance, jokes that the ship is safe because the uppity Boatswain was surely born to be hanged, not drowned in a storm: "I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows" . For his part, the Boatswain observes that social hierarchies are flimsy and unimportant in the face of nature's wrath. "What cares these roarers," he asks, referring to the booming thunder, "for the name of king?" . The irony here, of course, is that, unbeknownst to the occupants of the ship, and to the audience, the storm is not natural at all, but is in fact a product of another kind power: Prospero's magic.


SCENE II.

_The island.

Before PROSPERO'S cell._

  _Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA._

_Mir._ If by your art, my dearest father, you have
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,
But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer'd                              5
With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel,
Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,
Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perish'd!
Had I been any god of power, I would                                10
Have sunk the sea within the earth, or ere
It should the good ship so have swallow'd and
The fraughting souls within her.

_Pros._                        Be collected:
No more amazement: tell your piteous heart
There's no harm done.

_Mir._              O, woe the day!

_Pros._                           No harm.                          15
I have done nothing but in care of thee,
Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who
Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing
Of whence I am, nor that I am more better
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,                          20
And thy no greater father.

_Mir._                   More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.

_Pros._                          'Tis time
I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magic garment from me. --So:
                                [_Lays down his mantle._
Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.              25
The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely order'd, that there is no soul,
No, not so much perdition as an hair                                30
Betid to any creature in the vessel
Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down;
For thou must now know farther.

_Mir._                        You have often
Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd,
And left me to a bootless inquisition,                              35
Concluding "Stay: not yet."

_Pros._                The hour's now come;
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember
A time before we came unto this cell?
I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not                   40
Out three years old.

_Mir._             Certainly, sir, I can.

_Pros._ By what? by any other house or person?
Of any thing the image tell me that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.

_Mir._                        'Tis far off,
And rather like a dream than an assurance                           45
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
Four or five women once that tended me?

_Pros._ Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it
That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?                             50
If thou remember'st ought ere thou camest here,
How thou camest here thou mayst.

_Mir._                         But that I do not.

_Pros._ Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and
A prince of power.

_Mir._           Sir, are not you my father?                        55

_Pros._ Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father
Was Duke of Milan; and his only heir
And princess, no worse issued.

_Mir._                       O the heavens!
What foul play had we, that we came from thence?                    60
Or blessed was't we did?

_Pros._                Both, both, my girl:
By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence;
But blessedly holp hither.

_Mir._                   O, my heart bleeds
To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to.
Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.                  65

_Pros._ My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Antonio,--
I pray thee, mark me,--that a brother should
Be so perfidious!--he whom, next thyself,
Of all the world I loved, and to him put
The manage of my state; as, at that time,                           70
Through all the signories it was the first,
And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed
In dignity, and for the liberal arts
Without a parallel; those being all my study,
The government I cast upon my brother,                              75
And to my state grew stranger, being transported
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle--
Dost thou attend me?

_Mir._             Sir, most heedfully.

_Pros._ Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them, whom to advance, and whom                         80
To trash for over-topping, new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,
Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state
To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was                       85
The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,
And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not.

_Mir._ O, good sir, I do.

_Pros._                 I pray thee, mark me.
I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To closeness and the bettering of my mind                           90
With that which, but by being so retired,
O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother
Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,
Like a good parent, did beget of him
A falsehood in its contrary, as great                               95
As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,
A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,
Not only with what my revenue yielded,
But what my power might else exact, like one
Who having into truth, by telling of it,                           100
Made such a sinner of his memory,
To credit his own lie, he did believe
He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative:--hence his ambition growing,--               105
Dost thou hear?

_Mir._        Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

_Pros._ To have no screen between this part he play'd
And him he play'd it for, he needs will be
Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library
Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties                    110
He thinks me now incapable; confederates,
So dry he was for sway, wi' the King of Naples
To give him annual tribute, do him homage,
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend
The dukedom, yet unbow'd,--alas, poor Milan!--                     115
To most ignoble stooping.

_Mir._                  O the heavens!

_Pros._ Mark his condition, and th' event; then tell me
If this might be a brother.

_Mir._                    I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother:
Good wombs have borne bad sons.

_Pros._                       Now the condition.                   120
This King of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises,
Of homage and I know not how much tribute,
Should presently extirpate me and mine                             125
Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan,
With all the honours, on my brother: whereon,
A treacherous army levied, one midnight
Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open
The gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness,                  130
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me and thy crying self.

_Mir._                Alack, for pity!
I, not remembering how I cried out then,
Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint
That wrings mine eyes to't.

_Pros._                   Hear a little further,                   135
And then I'll bring thee to the present business
Which now's upon 's; without the which, this story
Were most impertinent.

_Mir._               Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?

_Pros._             Well demanded, wench:
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,              140
So dear the love my people bore me; nor set
A mark so bloody on the business; but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,
Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared                   145
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively have quit it: there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,                      150
Did us but loving wrong.

_Mir._                 Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you!

_Pros._          O, a cherubin
Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,                   155
Under my burthen groan'd; which raised in me
An undergoing stomach, to bear up
Against what should ensue.

_Mir._                   How came we ashore?

_Pros._ By Providence divine.
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that                       160
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity, who being then appointed
Master of this design, did give us, with
Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,
Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,              165
Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me
From mine own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.

_Mir._                  Would I might
But ever see that man!

_Pros._              Now I arise:  [_Resumes his mantle._
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.                    170
Here in this island we arrived; and here
Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princesses can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

_Mir._ Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir,          175
For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason
For raising this sea-storm?

_Pros._                   Know thus far forth.
By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore; and by my prescience                        180
I find my zenith doth depend upon
A most auspicious star, whose influence
If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes
Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions:
Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,                   185
And give it way: I know thou canst not choose.
                                        [_Miranda sleeps._
Come away, servant, come. I am ready now.
Approach, my Ariel, come.

  _Enter _ARIEL_._

_Ari._ All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,                          190
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task
Ariel and all his quality.

_Pros._                  Hast thou, spirit,
Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?

_Ari._ To every article.                                           195
I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flamed amazement: sometime I'ld divide,
And burn in many places; on the topmast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,                  200
Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not: the fire and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,                  205
Yea, his dread trident shake.

_Pros._                     My brave spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
Would not infect his reason?

_Ari._                     Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners                       210
Plunged in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring,--then like reeds, not hair,--
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, "Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here."

_Pros._                 Why, that's my spirit!                     215
But was not this nigh shore?

_Ari._                    Close by, my master.

_Pros._ But are they, Ariel, safe?

_Ari._                           Not a hair perish'd;
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,
In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle.                    220
The king's son have I landed by himself;
Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot.

_Pros._                  Of the king's ship
The mariners, say how thou hast disposed,                          225
And all the rest o' the fleet.

_Ari._                       Safely in harbour
Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid:
The mariners all under hatches stow'd;                             230
Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
I have left asleep: and for the rest o' the fleet,
Which I dispersed, they all have met again,
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples;                                       235
Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd,
And his great person perish.

_Pros._                    Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd: but there's more work.
What is the time o' the day?

_Ari._                     Past the mid season.

_Pros._ At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now          240
Must by us both be spent most preciously.

_Ari._ Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,
Which is not yet perform'd me.

_Pros._                      How now? moody?
What is't thou canst demand?

_Ari._                     My liberty.                             245

_Pros._ Before the time be out? no more!

_Ari._                                 I prithee,
Remember I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served
Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise
To bate me a full year.

_Pros._               Dost thou forget                             250
From what a torment I did free thee?

_Ari._                             No.

_Pros._ Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze
Of the salt deep,
To run upon the sharp wind of the north,
To do me business in the veins o' the earth                        255
When it is baked with frost.

_Ari._                     I do not, sir.

_Pros._ Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot
The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy
Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

_Ari._ No, sir.

_Pros._       Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.       260

_Ari._ Sir, in Argier.

_Pros._              O, was she so? I must
Once in a month recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,                               265
Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did
They would not take her life. Is not this true?

_Ari._ Ay, sir.

_Pros._ This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child,
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,                  270
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant;
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,                              275
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain
A dozen years; within which space she died,
And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans              280
As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island--
Save for the son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp hag-born--not honour'd with
A human shape.

_Ari._       Yes, Caliban her son.

_Pros._ Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban,                    285
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
What torment I did find thee in; thy groans
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts
Of ever-angry bears: it was a torment
To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax                              290
Could not again undo: it was mine art,
When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.

_Ari._                    I thank thee, master.

_Pros._ If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak,
And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till                          295
Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

_Ari._                              Pardon, master:
I will be correspondent to command,
And do my spiriting gently.

_Pros._                   Do so; and after two days
I will discharge thee.

_Ari._               That's my noble master!
What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?                        300

_Pros._ Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea:
Be subject to no sight but thine and mine; invisible
To every eyeball else. Go take this shape,
And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence!

    [_Exit Ariel._

Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;                    305
Awake!

_Mir._ The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

_Pros._        Shake it off. Come on;
We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.

_Mir._               'Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.

_Pros._                 But, as 'tis,                              310
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices
That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!
Thou earth, thou! speak.

_Cal._ [_within_] There's wood enough within.

_Pros._ Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee:        315
Come, thou tortoise! when?

  _Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph._

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
Hark in thine ear.

_Ari._           My lord, it shall be done.    [_Exit._

_Pros._ Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself
Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!                                   320

  _Enter CALIBAN._

_Cal._ As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd
With raven's feather from unwholesome fen
Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye
And blister you all o'er!

_Pros._ For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,        325
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made 'em.

_Cal._                 I must eat my dinner.                       330
This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,
Thou strokedst me, and madest much of me; wouldst give me
Water with berries in't; and teach me how
To name the bigger light, and how the less,                        335
That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee,
And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle,
The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile:
Curs'd be I that did so! All the charms
Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!                    340
For I am all the subjects that you have,
Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest o' th' island.

_Pros._               Thou most lying slave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,             345
Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodged thee
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
The honour of my child.

_Cal._ O ho, O ho! would 't had been done!
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else                          350
This isle with Calibans.

_Pros._                Abhorred slave,
Which any print of goodness wilt not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,                   355
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known. But thy vile race,
Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures
Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou                    360
Deservedly confined into this rock,
Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

_Cal._ You taught me language; and my profit on't
Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you
For learning me your language!

_Pros._                      Hag-seed, hence!                      365
Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best,
To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?
If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly
What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps,
Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar,                     370
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

_Cal._                              No, pray thee.
[_Aside_] I must obey: his art is of such power,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.

_Pros._                 So, slave; hence!    [_Exit Caliban._

  _Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND
  following._

_ARIEL'S song._

    Come unto these yellow sands,                                  375
        And then take hands:
    Courtsied when you have and kiss'd
        The wild waves whist:
    Foot it featly here and there;
    And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.                          380

 _Burthen_ [_dispersedly_]. Hark, hark!
                           Bow-wow.
        The watch-dogs bark:
                            Bow-wow.

_Ari._  Hark, hark! I hear
        The strain of strutting chanticleer                        385
        Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

_Fer._ Where should this music be? i' th' air or th' earth?
It sounds no more: and, sure, it waits upon
Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wreck,                          390
This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion
With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it.
Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.                                               395

_ARIEL sings._

    Full fathom five thy father lies;
        Of his bones are coral made;
    Those are pearls that were his eyes:
        Nothing of him that doth fade,
    But doth suffer a sea-change                                   400
    Into something rich and strange.
    Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:

                    _Burthen:_ Ding-dong.

_Ari._ Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell.

_Fer._ The ditty does remember my drown'd father.                  405
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes:--I hear it now above me.

_Pros._ The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And say what thou seest yond.

_Mir._                      What is't? a spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,                         410
It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.

_Pros._ No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses
As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest
Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'd
With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him          415
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,
And strays about to find 'em.

_Mir._                      I might call him
A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

_Pros._ [_Aside_] It goes on, I see,
As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee         420
Within two days for this.

_Fer._                  Most sure, the goddess
On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer
May know if you remain upon this island;
And that you will some good instruction give
How I may bear me here: my prime request,                          425
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
If you be maid or no?

_Mir._              No wonder, sir;
But certainly a maid.

_Fer._              My language! heavens!
I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken.

_Pros._                     How? the best?                         430
What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?

_Fer._ A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;
And that he does I weep: myself am Naples,
Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld                     435
The king my father wreck'd.

_Mir._                    Alack, for mercy!

_Fer._ Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan
And his brave son being twain.

_Pros._                      [_Aside_] The Duke of Milan
And his more braver daughter could control thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight                      440
They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this. [_To Fer._] A word, good sir;
I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.

_Mir._ Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first                        445
That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclined my way!

_Fer._               O, if a virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The queen of Naples.

_Pros._            Soft, sir! one word more.
[_Aside_] They are both in either's powers:
        but this swift business                                    450
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
Make the prize light. [_To Fer._] One word more; I charge thee
That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself
Upon this island as a spy, to win it                               455
From me, the lord on't.

_Fer._                No, as I am a man.

_Mir._ There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:
If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with't.

_Pros._                                Follow me.
Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come;                       460
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:
Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

_Fer._                           No;
I will resist such entertainment till                              465
Mine enemy has more power.
            [_Draws, and is charmed from moving._

_Mir._                O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful.

_Pros._                     What! I say,
My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who makest a show, but darest not strike, thy conscience           470
Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward;
For I can here disarm thee with this stick
And make thy weapon drop.

_Mir._                  Beseech you, father.

_Pros._ Hence! hang not on my garments.

_Mir._                                Sir, have pity;
I'll be his surety.

_Pros._           Silence! one word more                           475
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an impostor! hush!
Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban,                              480
And they to him are angels.

_Mir._                    My affections
Are, then, most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

_Pros._              Come on; obey:
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.

_Fer._             So they are:                                    485
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day                           490
Behold this maid: all corners else o' th' earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

_Pros._ [_Aside_]      It works. [_To Fer._] Come on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [_To Fer._] Follow me.
[_To Ari._] Hark what thou else shalt do me.

_Mir._                                     Be of comfort;          495
My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
Which now came from him.

_Pros._                Thou shalt be as free
As mountain winds: but then exactly do
All points of my command.

_Ari._                  To the syllable.                           500

_Pros._ Come, follow. Speak not for him.    [_Exeunt._

  Notes: I, 2.

  3: _stinking_] _flaming_ Singer conj. _kindling_ S. Verges conj.
  4: _cheek_] _heat_ Collier MS. _crack_ Staunton conj.
  7: _creature_] _creatures_ Theobald.
  13: _fraughting_] Ff. _fraighted_ Pope. _fraighting_ Theobald.
    _freighting_ Steevens.
  15: Mir. _O, woe the day!_ Pros. _No harm._] Mir. _O woe the day!
    no harm?_ Johnson conj.
  19: _I am more better_] _I'm more or better_ Pope.
  24: [Lays ... mantle] Pope.
  28: _provision_] F1. _compassion_ F2 F3 F4. _prevision_ Hunter conj.
  29: _soul_] _soul lost_ Rowe. _foyle_ Theobald. _soil_ Johnson conj.
    _loss_ Capell. _foul_ Wright conj.
  31: _betid_] F1. _betide_ F2 F3 F4.
  35: _a_] F1. _the_ F2 F3 F4.
  38: _thou_] om. Pope.
  41: _Out_] _Full_ Pope (after Dryden). _Quite_ Collier MS.
  44: _with_] _in_ Pope (after Dryden).
  53: _Twelve year ... year_] _Tis twelve years ... years_ Pope.
  58, 59: _and his only heir And princess_] _and his only heir
    A princess_ Pope. _thou his only heir And princess_ Steevens.
    _and though his only heir A princess_] Johnson conj.
  63: _holp_] _help'd_ Pope.
  _O, my heart_] _My heart_ Pope.
  78: _me_] om. F3 F4.
  80: _whom ... whom_] F2 F3 F4. _who ... who_ F1.
  81: _trash_] _plash_ Hanmer.
  82, 83: _'em ... 'em_] _them ... them_ Capell.
  84: _i' the state_] _i'th state_ F1. _e'th state_ F2.
    _o'th state_ F3 F4. om. Pope.
  88: _O, good sir ... mark me._] _Good sir ... mark me then._ Pope.
    _O yes, good sir ... mark me._ Capell.
  Mir. _O, ... do._ Pros. _I ... me_] _I ... me._ Mir. _O ... do._
    Steevens.
  89: _dedicated_] _dedicate_ Steevens (Ritson conj.).
  91: _so_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
  97: _lorded_] _loaded_ Collier MS.
  99: _exact, like_] _exact. Like_ Ff.
  100: _having into truth ... of it_] _loving an untruth, and telling
    't oft_ Hanmer. _having unto truth ... oft_ Warburton. _having to
    untruth ... of it_ Collier MS. _having sinn'd to truth ... oft_
    Musgrave conj.
  _telling_] _quelling_ S. Verges conj.
  101: _Made ... memory_] _Makes ... memory_ Hanmer. _Makes ...
    memory too_ Musgrave conj.
  103: _indeed the duke_] _the duke_ Steevens. _indeed duke_ S. Walker
    conj.
  _out o' the_] _from_ Pope.
  105: _his_] _is_ F2.
  105, 106: _ambition growing_] _ambition Growing_ Steevens.
  106: _hear?_] _hear, child?_ Hanmer.
  109: _Milan_] _Millanie_ F1 (Capell's copy).
  112: _wi' the_] Capell. _with_ Ff. _wi' th'_ Rowe. _with the_
    Steevens.
  116: _most_] F1. _much_ F2 F3 F4.
  119: _but_] _not_ Pope.
  120: _Good ... sons_] Theobald suggested that these words should be
    given to Prospero. Hanmer prints them so.
  122: _hearkens_] _hears_ Pope. _hearks_ Theobald.
  129: _Fated_] _Mated_ Dryden's version.
  _purpose_] _practise_ Collier MS.
  131: _ministers_] _minister_ Rowe.
  133: _out_] _on't_ Steevens conj.
  135: _to 't_] om. Steevens (Farmer conj.).
  138: _Wherefore_] _Why_ Pope.
  141: _me_] om. Pope.
  146: _boat_] Rowe (after Dryden). _butt_ F1 F2 F3. _but_ F4.
    _busse_ Black conj.
  147: _sail_] F1. _nor sail_ F2 F3 F4.
  148: _have_] _had_ Rowe (after Dryden).
  150: _the winds_] _winds_ Pope.
  155: _deck'd_] _brack'd_ Hanmer. _mock'd_ Warburton. _fleck'd_
    Johnson conj. _degg'd_ anon. ap. Reed conj.
  162: _who_] om. Pope. _he_ Steevens conj.
  169: _Now I arise_] Continued to Miranda. Blackstone conj.
  [Resumes his mantle] om. Ff. [Put on robe again. Collier MS.
  173: _princesses_] _princesse_ F1 F2 F3. _princess_ F4.
    _princes_ Rowe. _princess'_ Dyce (S. Walker conj.). See note (III).
  186: [M. sleeps] Theobald.
  189: SCENE III. Pope.
  190: _be't_] F1. _be it_ F2 F3 F4.
  193: _quality_] _qualities_ Pope (after Dryden).
  198: _sometime_] F1. _sometimes_ F2 F3 F4.
  200: _bowsprit_] _bore-sprit_ Ff. _bolt-sprit_ Rowe.
  201: _lightnings_] Theobald. _lightning_ Ff.
  202: _o' the_] _of_ Pope.
  _thunder-claps_] _thunder-clap_ Johnson.
  205: _Seem_] _Seem'd_ Theobald.
  206: _dread_] F1. _dead_ F2 F3 F4.
  _My brave_] _My brave, brave_ Theobald. _That's my brave_ Hanmer.
  209: _mad_] _mind_ Pope (after Dryden).
  211, 212: _vessel, ... son_] _vessell; Then all a fire with me
    the King's sonne_ Ff.
  218: _sustaining_] _sea-stained_ Edwards conj. _unstaining_ or
    _sea-staining_ Spedding conj.
  229: _Bermoothes_] _Bermudas_ Theobald.
  231: _Who_] _Whom_ Hanmer.
  234: _are_] _all_ Collier MS.
  _upon_] _on_ Pope.
  239-240: Ari. _Past the mid season._ Pros. _At least two glasses_]
    Ari. _Past the mid season at least two glasses._ Warburton.
    Pros. _... Past the mid season?_ Ari. _At least two glasses_
    Johnson conj.
  244: _How now? moody?_] _How now, moody!_ Dyce (so Dryden, ed. 1808).
  245: _What_] F1. _Which_ F2 F3 F4.
  248: _made thee_] Ff. _made_ Pope.
  249: _didst_] F3 F4. _did_ F1 F2.
  264: _and sorceries_] _sorceries too_ Hanmer.
  267: _Is not this true?_] _Is this not true?_ Pope.
  271: _wast then_] Rowe (after Dryden). _was then_ Ff.
  273: _earthy_] _earthly_ Pope.
  282: _son_] F1. _sunne_ F2. _sun_ F3 F4.
  _she_] Rowe (after Dryden). _he_ Ff.
  298: See note (IV).
  301: _like_] F1. _like to_ F2 F3 F4.
  302: _Be subject to_] _be subject To_ Malone.
  _but thine and mine_] _but mine_ Pope.
  304: _in't_] _in it_ Pope.
  _go, hence_] _goe: hence_ Ff. _go hence_ Pope. _hence_ Hanmer.
  307: _Heaviness_] _Strange heaviness_ Edd. conj.
  312: _serves in offices_] F1. _serves offices_ F2 F3 F4.
    _serveth offices_ Collier MS.
  316: _Come, thou tortoise! when?_] om. Pope.
  _Come_] _Come forth_ Steevens.]
  320: _come forth!_] _come forth, thou tortoise!_ Pope.
  321: SCENE IV. Pope.
  332: _camest_] Rowe. _cam'st_ Ff. _cam'st here_ Ritson conj.
  333: _madest_] Rowe (after Dryden). _made_ Ff.
  339: _Curs'd be I that_] F1. _Curs'd be I that I_ F2 F3 F4.
    _cursed be I that_ Steevens.
  342: _Which_] _Who_ Pope, and at line 351.
  346: _thee_] om. F4.
  349: _would 't_] Ff. _I wou'd it_ Pope.
  351: Pros.] Theobald (after Dryden). Mira. Ff.
  352: _wilt_] F1. _will_ F2 F3 F4.
  355, 356: _didst not ... Know_] _couldst not ... Shew_ Hanmer.
  356: _wouldst_] _didst_ Hanmer.
  361, 362: _Deservedly ... deserved_] _Justly ... who hadst Deserv'd_
    S. Walker conj. _Confin'd ... deserv'd_ id. conj.
  362: _Who ... prison_] om. Pope (after Dryden).
  366: _thou'rt_] F1 F2 F3. _thou art_ F4. _thou wer't_ Rowe.
  375: SCENE V. Pope.
  following.] Malone.
  378: _The wild waves whist_] Printed as a parenthesis by Steevens.
    See note (V).
  380: _the burthen bear_] Pope. _bear the burthen_ Ff.
  381-383: Steevens gives _Hark, hark! The watch-dogs bark_ to Ariel.
  387: _i' th' air or th' earth?_] _in air or earth?_ Pope.
  390: _again_] _against_ Rowe (after Dryden).
  407: _owes_] _owns_ Pope (after Dryden), but leaves _ow'st_ 454.
  408: SCENE VI. Pope.
  419: _It goes on, I see,_] _It goes, I see_ Capell. _It goes on_
    Steevens.
  420: _fine spirit!_] om. Hanmer.
  427: _maid_] F3. _mayd_ F1 F2. _made_ F4.
  443: See note (VI).
  444: _ungently_] F1. _urgently_ F2 F3 F4.
  451: _lest_] F4. _least_ F1 F2 F3.
  452: _One_] _Sir, one_ Pope.
    _I charge thee_] _I charge thee_ [to Ariel. Pope.
  460: Pros. prefixed again to this line in Ff.
  468: _and_] _tho'_ Hanmer.
  469: _foot_] _fool_ S. Walker conj. _child_ Dryden's version.
  470: _makest_] _mak'st_ F1. _makes_ F2 F3 F4.
  471: _so_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4. _all_ Pope.
  478: _is_] _are_ Rowe.
  488: _nor_] _and_ Rowe (after Dryden). _or_ Capell.
  489: _are_] _were_ Malone conj.

Prospero and his daughter Miranda are the focus of this scene, and from Miranda's first speech it becomes clear that the storm in the previous scene was somehow caused and controlled by Prospero. Miranda is concerned that good men were lost in the wreck, but Prospero assures her that it all went to plan, and no men were harmed. Prospero explains his motivations for causing the storm by telling her his history with the nobles aboard the ship; he reveals to Miranda that Antonio is his brother, and that he was once the rightful Duke of Milan, a position Antonio now holds. Antonio usurped Prospero's estate and wealth while Prospero became increasingly "rapt in secret studies" and oblivious to his brother's machinations; and in order to take Prospero's title as well, Antonio arranged to have his brother Prospero and Prospero's daughter Miranda killed secretly. But Prospero is widely known to be a good man, so those charged with his death decide not to kill him, Instead, Prospero and Miranda were set adrift on the open sea in a decayed vessel, and were able to survive off the supplies that the honest councilor Gonzalo arranged for them to have; thus, they landed on the island where they now live. After Prospero's tale, Ariel, a magical spirit, appears; it becomes clear that she is in Prospero's service, and caused the storm, at Prospero's bidding. King Alonso and company are now "dispersed'bout the isle," and Ariel has made the incident look like a shipwreck. Ariel also expresses her wish to be freed by Prospero, although he rescued her from the nasty witch Sycorax. Caliban, who was Syncorax's son, also makes an appearance; Miranda expresses her strong dislike for him, and he has been reduced to no more than Prospero's slave. Ferdinand, Alonso's son, meets Miranda, and falls immediately in love with her; this appears to be of Ariel's doing, and part of the carefully-laid plan that she must carry out to win her freedom from Prospero.

The play begins with a pair of contrasting scenes; one showing men who are helpless against the storm they believe to be nature's wrath, and one showing the storm itself to be merely the work of an illusionist, trying to reclaim his place through his magic. In the first scene, the boatswain suggests that men, despite their power, are still subject to nature; "what cares these roarers for the name of king," he asks, when the king's ship is being pummeled by the storm. The boatswain's statement makes sense in the context of that scene; however, it becomes ironic in the second scene, when Miranda and Prospero reveal that it was Prospero himself who caused the storm. Antonio and Sebastian's behavior also reveals the brutish, unkind characteristics that mark them throughout the play; Antonio's depiction in this scene gives credence to Prospero's traitorous depiction of his brother that comes out when he tells Miranda about the wrongs perpetrated against him. The first impression of Gonzalo is not quite as correct as those of Antonio and Sebastian; he abets their affront of the boatswain, and shows little of the honesty or kindness which he exhibits later in the play, or for which Prospero remembers him. Also, Antonio and Sebastian's diffidence toward the boatswain on account of their status is the first demonstration in the play of social hierarchy, which becomes an important theme. Characters within the work, like Antonio, Sebastian, and even Prospero, depend upon the perpetuation of this hierarchy to give them their power, and only become leaders when those beneath them in station submit to them. Caliban is well aware that Prospero's position depends on Caliban's obeisance, as he says to Prospero, "I am all the subjects that you have"; though it is Prospero's "art" and power, rather than a landed title, that makes Caliban, the natural owner of the island, subordinate. The nature of power is repeatedly in question in this first act; Prospero believes Antonio's power to be marred by its underhanded acquisition, while Prospero believes his own power to be valid and just because he acquired it through his own knowledge and effort. Prospero reasserts his authority over Ariel, claiming that his pains to free her indenture her to him; and over Caliban too, because the charge of attempted rape takes away his credibility, as far as Prospero and Miranda are concerned. However, Prospero's power is not as justly attained as he would like to believe; he keeps Ariel in unwilling bondage, as Sycorax did, and keeps control of Caliban through threats of his power. Prospero debates throughout the work that his power, which he achieved through oppression, is more legitimate than Antonio's, which he achieved through theft; and it is this value judgment that allows Prospero to cast himself as the victim, and Antonio as the villain, though this case might not be correct. If Prospero has a mirror in any of the characters, it is Sycorax, whom Prospero repeatedly condemns as a witch. Their histories are remarkably similar; both were banished from their native countries, fled to the island for a new life, and gained control over the spirits on the island. Despite Prospero's dislike for Sycorax , they are also similar in their failings; they share the same anger, both demand servitude from those who are unwilling, and keep others in control though constant threats. Prospero and Sycorax have the same magical abilities through their mutual claim of Ariel, and share the ability to perform feats of magic through the servitude of Ariel. Prospero's long speech in scene 2 shows several of the contradictions inherent in Prospero's appearance and nature. Prospero can be empathetic and calm, as shown when he gracefully allays Miranda's fears for the safety of the men; but, he is also angry and vengeful, when he speaks of his past and his brother's alleged treachery. He calls his brother "perfidious," "false," and casts his brother as a villain when telling his history to his daughter. Paradoxically, Prospero also admits that it was his "being so retired" from his duties that "awaked an evil nature" in his brother, and his "trust did beget of a falsehood". Prospero himself causes events, like the shipwreck, without which the play could not exist; in these powers of manipulation, he performs the functions of the author from within the work. Some essayists have gone as far as to claim that Prospero is a mirror of Shakespeare as a writer because of how he fulfills the author function, though there seems to be little supporting evidence for this claim. As of the end of Act One, Prospero is the only character who is fully fleshed out. The characters of Antonio and Sebastian have been sketched out; and Ariel, Caliban, and Miranda appear, though their interactions with Prospero do more to further Prospero's characterization than their own. However, in Prospero, more than any other character, key themes come into play, and Act One begins the development of this exceedingly crucial character

The action moves to an island, where we meet Prospero and his daughter, Miranda. If you read the "Names of the Actors," you know that Prospero is the "rightful Duke of Milan, usurped by his brother Antonio." If you didn't know this key piece of information, Prospero just seems to be an average old guy stranded with his daughter on a deserted island. Miranda saw the ship sink and asks her father if he created the storm, cluing us in to the fact that Prospero has powerful magic, which they both call "art." Prospero doesn't deny he made the tempest, but instead says there was no harm done. He assures his daughter that everyone from the ship is safe, and that he only did it for her . Prospero says the storm is a good occasion for him to reveal their family secret to her, which he's often started telling her but never finished. He promises to finish this time. He asks if she remembers a time before they were on the island, and she says yes. This surprises Prospero, because she was only three years old then, but she clearly remembers that she used to have four or five women that took care of her. Miranda doesn't remember how she and her father came to the island, so Prospero tells her the long story, which we now sum up for you: Twelve years ago, Miranda was a princess and her father was the Duke of Milan. Miranda is shocked to hear the news, and asks if Prospero isn't really her father. Prospero replies that, to the best of his knowledge, he was the only one sleeping with Miranda's mother. So yes, Prospero was a Duke and Miranda a princess. Miranda asks whether a blessing or curse brought them to the island. Prospero says it was both. The story that follows is long, and Prospero keeps poking Miranda to stay awake . Basically, the story goes like this: Prospero has a brother, Antonio, whom he used to love and trust. Prospero was devoted to the study of magic. He trusted his brother so much that he let him run the affairs of state while Prospero closeted himself away in his library. Antonio, meanwhile, was busy learning how to run Milan, but also making all the right friends in all the right places. Eventually, he took advantage of Prospero's trust and, by sucking up constantly with tributes and compliments to the King of Naples. Antonio managed to get the King to give him his brother's title as Duke of Milan. Hmm. Now, where have we seen an evil, usurping brother before? Oh, yeah, in Hamlet, where Claudius kills his brother and then takes his crown and his wife. Antonio then sent an army at midnight, under the cover of darkness, to force Prospero and baby Miranda out of Milan. They weren't killed because Prospero was so well-loved by his people. Prospero and the baby were banished to sea on a used '83 Chevy Impala of a ship, which "even the rats left instinctively." While on their rickety boat, the duo faced a terrible storm. Miranda, far from being trouble, gave Prospero the strength to continue on. Finally they washed ashore onto their present island. They survived because Gonzalo was so kind; before leaving, he gave them food and water, fine clothes, and also Prospero's books. Prospero was able to use his small library to educate Miranda for the last twelve years, affording her a better education than most princesses, who generally spend their time combing golden locks and looking out of windows. Finally, Prospero explains the reason he created the recent storm: his enemies, the ones from all those years ago, were on the ship. According to the stars, now is the moment of Prospero's good fortune, but his power depends on good timing. Prospero then lulls Miranda to sleep with art and calls his servant, the spirit Ariel, so they can go to work right away. We find out Ariel was in charge of the details of the tempest. He performed his duties down to the last detail: he appeared on the ship as fire, jumping between cabins and the deck. This, understandably, weirded out everyone on the ship, and while the mariners stayed on deck, everyone else jumped overboard. Ariel then saw to it that they all made it ashore unharmed, but in separate groups. Most importantly, the King's son was separated from the rest of the group. Ariel left the mariners on their newly restored ship in an enchanted sleep, and sent the other vessels in the fleet back to Naples. Prospero is glad of Ariel's good work, but demands that there is much more to do in the next four hours. Ariel reminds him then that he's already done lots of good work, and that Prospero promised that when his work was done, he would set the spirit-servant free. Essentially, Ariel is saying "Show me the money." Prospero flies into something of a rage. He reminds Ariel that he once rescued him from a witch named Sycorax, and therefore Ariel should be as indebted as a house-elf without socks for the rest of eternity. Prospero tells us a story: Sycorax was a terrible witch, born in Algiers and banished from there because she got it on with the Devil himself. We don't get the details of that interesting night, but instead we learn that the pregnant Sycorax was banished to this very island, where she made Ariel her lackey. Still, because Ariel was too "delicate" to do the horrible things she commanded, Sycorax had a fit and imprisoned Ariel in the cleft of a pine tree, where he stayed rather stuck. Twelve years later, Sycorax was dead, and Prospero came to the island to find the loud, sad, unearthly moans of Ariel coming from a tree. After he freed the spirit, Prospero committed Ariel to his service, with the promise of eventual liberty. After Prospero tells this long story, he chides Ariel that any more whining will get him locked back into the tree. However, if Ariel behaves, Prospero will free him in two days, once all the work is done. Brain Snack: The rest of the play actually takes place over the course of about four hours . In fact, The Tempest is one of two Shakespeare plays that takes place over the course of a single day in a single location. Literary critics have a fancy name for this--the "unities" of time and place. Contrast the action and location of The Tempest to, say, The Winter's Tale, which spans a huge length of time and space. Prospero sends Ariel off in the shape of an invisible water nymph , and wakes Miranda so they can go together to see Caliban. Miranda says she can't stand to look at Caliban, but her dad points out that Caliban does all those pesky island chores that nobody else likes to do . Prospero and Miranda stroll up to Caliban's pad and immediately begin to verbally abuse him, during which time we learn the following: Caliban was the island's only other inhabitant when Miranda and Prospero arrived; he is the child of Sycorax and the Devil. We also learn that, initially, Prospero had taken Caliban under his wing, taught him to speak, and fed him. In exchange, Caliban had shown him all the tricks and treasures of the island. Sadly, the friendship ended when Caliban tried to rape Miranda, with the intention of populating the island with little Calibandas . Prospero then confined Caliban to servitude and a dwelling near a rock outside of Prospero's cell. Caliban hates being a slave, but Prospero is powerful and likes to inflict Caliban with terrible body cramps for misbehaving and talking back. Ferdinand enters with Ariel who is invisible and sings a tune so beautiful that the amazed Ferdinand quits mourning his father to follow the music. Ariel leads Ferdinand to Miranda. When the prince and princess look into each other's eyes, it's love at first sight. Miranda turns to her dad and announces that Ferdinand is the hottest guy she's ever seen . Miranda thinks Ferdinand must be a god or a spirit. Ferdinand declares that Miranda must be a goddess and then asks our girl if she's a "maid." Ferdinand announces that he's the King of Naples . However, this situation conveniently puts him in a good position to make Miranda Queen of Naples. Miranda meets all the practical requirements of love, so they're all ready for marriage in 26 lines. Prospero, though he has been making asides all along that his plan is going well, declares to himself that if things are too easy for the young couple, then they won't take their vows of love seriously. In order to add a bit of conflict to the romance, Prospero accuses Ferdinand of being a spy intending to steal the island. Prospero threatens to chain up Ferdinand and enchant him, but the Prince rebels against the accusation. Miranda, newly in love, comes to the defense of Ferdinand. Prospero tells Ferdinand to give it up, and Ferdinand does, but not just because Prospero's magic has reduced his muscles to Jello. No, it's because of Miranda. Losing his father and his friends, being put in prison by Prospero--he can endure it all if he can just look out his prison window and see Miranda once a day. Prospero is pleased. He's glad to see the two falling in love, all according to his master plan. Prospero calls Ariel to do more work, and again promises the spirit will soon be free as the mountain winds in Pocahontas.

Scene 2 opens on the island, with Prospero and Miranda watching the ship as it is tossed by the storm. Miranda knows that her father is creating the storm, and she begs him to end the ship's torment and her own, since she suffers as she watches the ship's inhabitants suffer. Prospero reassures his daughter that his actions have been to protect her. He also tells Miranda that she is ignorant of her heritage; he then explains the story of her birthright and of their lives before they came to be on the island. Prospero begins his story with the news that he is the duke of Milan and Miranda is a princess. He also relates that he had abdicated day-to-day rule of his kingdom to his brother, Antonio. Prospero admits that books held more attraction than duties, and he willingly allowed his brother the opportunity to grasp control. But Antonio used his position to undermine Prospero and to plot against him. Prospero's trust in his brother proved unwise, when Antonio formed an alliance with the king of Naples to oust Prospero and seize his heritage. Prospero and his daughter were placed in a small, rickety boat and put out to sea. A sympathetic Neapolitan, Gonzalo, provided them with rich garments, linens, and other necessities. Gonzalo also provided Prospero with books from his library. Eventually, Prospero and Miranda arrived on the island, where they have remained since that time. When he finishes the tale, Prospero uses his magic to put Miranda to sleep. The sprite, Ariel, appears as soon as Miranda is sleeping and reports on the storm, the ship, and the passengers. Ariel relates everyone, except the crew, was forced to abandon ship. Ariel tells Prospero that the passengers have been separated into smaller groups and are on different parts of the island; that the ship, with its sleeping crew, is safely hidden in the harbor; and that the remainder of the fleet, thinking that the king is drowned, has sailed home. Ariel then asks that Prospero free him, as had been promised. But Prospero has more need of his sprite and declares that Ariel's freedom must be delayed a few more days. When Ariel leaves, Prospero awakens Miranda and beckons Caliban, the son of the witch, Sycorax. Caliban has been Prospero's slave, but he is insolent and rebellious and is only controlled through the use of magic. Caliban claims the island as his own and says that Prospero has tricked him in the past. Prospero is unmoved, claiming that Caliban is corrupt, having tried to rape Miranda. Prospero threatens and cajoles Caliban's obedience, but Caliban's presence makes Miranda uneasy. After Caliban leaves, Ariel enters with Ferdinand, who sees Miranda, and the two fall instantly in love. Although this is what Prospero intended to have happen, he does not want it to appear too easy for Ferdinand, and so he accuses Ferdinand of being a spy. When Prospero uses magic to control Ferdinand, Miranda begs him to stop.

Prospero tells Miranda their history as a way to inform the audience of this important information. In addition, the audience needs to know what events motivate Prospero's decision to stir up the storm and why the men onboard the ship are his enemies -- several share responsibility for Prospero's isolation. By sharing this information, Miranda -- and the audience -- can conclude that Prospero is justified in seeking retribution. At the very least, Prospero must make Miranda sympathetic to this choice. It is also important that Prospero gain the audience's sympathy because his early treatment of both Ariel and Caliban depict him in a less than sympathetic light. Ariel and Caliban are both little more than slaves to Prospero's wishes, and, in the initial interactions between Prospero and Ariel and Prospero and Caliban, the audience may think Prospero callous and cruel. He has clearly promised Ariel freedom and then denied it, and he treats Caliban as little more than an animal. The audience needs to understand that cruel circumstance and the machinations of men have turned Prospero into a different man than he might otherwise have been. But Prospero's character is more complex than this scene reveals, and the relationship between these characters more intricate also. During the course of the story, Prospero repeatedly asks Miranda if she is listening. This questioning may reveal her distraction as she worries about the well-being of the ship's passengers. Miranda is loving toward her father, but at the same time, she does not lose sight of the human lives he is placing at risk. However, his questioning is equally directed toward the audience. Prospero also wants to make sure that the audience is listening to his story, since he will return to the audience in the Epilogue and seek their judgment. It is clear from Prospero's story that he had been a poor ruler, more interested in his books than in his responsibilities. Prospero, therefore, is not entirely blameless in the events that occurred in Milan. Antonio could not so easily seize power from an involved and attentive ruler. This information mitigates Antonio's actions in seizing his brother's place and is important because this play is not a tragedy. In order for the comedic or romantic ending to succeed, none of the villains can be beyond redemption or reconciliation. It is equally important that Prospero not be beyond redemption. Prospero must be heroic, and this he cannot be if he is perceived as vengeful. Ariel reassures the audience  that the ship and its crew have been saved and the passengers are safely on the island. No one has been hurt or lost at sea. In addition to relating the past, this act also helps define the main characters and anticipate the future. Prospero has been injured, and he intends to serve justice on his captives. He delves in magic and has developed powers beyond those of his enemies. He is also intelligent enough and strong enough to control the spirits on the island; for example, he can control Caliban, who is not without power of his own. Prospero uses the magic of nature, a white, beneficent magic that does no harm. He does not use the black magic of evil. Prospero has learned of this magic, not through the use of witches or evil spells , but through his studies. Prospero's white magic has supplanted the black, evil magic of Caliban's mother, Sycorax, because Prospero, himself, is good. Any initial concern that the audience might have because of Caliban's enslavement evaporates at the news that he attempted to rape Miranda. His subsequent behavior will further prove his character, but he can be redeemed, and his redemption is necessary if the play is to succeed. Furthermore, Caliban, who is initially bad and represents the black magic of his mother, serves as a contrast to the goodness of Ferdinand and Miranda. The young lovers are instantly attracted to one another, each one a mirror image of the other's goodness. It is their goodness that facilitates the reconciliation between Prospero and his enemies. In this reconciliation lies Ariel's freedom and Caliban's redemption. Glossary betid happened or befell; here, it means that nothing has happened to the boat's inhabitants. teen injury or harm. Prospero worries about the trouble that he has created for Miranda. Signories domains or city-states in Northern Italy, subject to the rule of a lord or signior. inveterate firmly established over a long period. extirpate to pull up by the roots. The reference here is to Prospero and Miranda's being forced from their home and country. bark any boat, but especially a small sailing ship. trident a three-pronged spear used by a gladiator in ancient Roman gladiatorial combats and by the Greek god of the sea, Neptune. Bermoothes refer to the Bermudas, a common word to describe tempests and enchantments. twain two. Ferdinand refers to himself and his father as but two of the victims of the storm. surety a person who takes responsibility for another. Miranda will be Ferdinand's guarantee.