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    The Tempest
    The Tempest
    The Tempest
    Ebook142 pages1 hour

    The Tempest

    By William Shakespeare

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    About this ebook

    The Tempest is a comedy written by William Shakespeare. It is generally dated to 1610-11 and accepted as the last play written solely by him, although some scholars have argued for an earlier dating. While listed as a comedy in its initial publication in the First Folio of 1623, many modern editors have relabelled the play a romance.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBooklassic
    Release dateJun 17, 2015
    ISBN9789635236909
    Author

    William Shakespeare

    William Shakespeare is the world's greatest ever playwright. Born in 1564, he split his time between Stratford-upon-Avon and London, where he worked as a playwright, poet and actor. In 1582 he married Anne Hathaway. Shakespeare died in 1616 at the age of fifty-two, leaving three children—Susanna, Hamnet and Judith. The rest is silence.

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      Book preview

      The Tempest - William Shakespeare

      The Tempest

      William Shakespeare

      Booklassic

      2015

      ISBN 978-963-523-690-9

      Act I

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

      Enter a Master and a Boatswain

      Master

      Boatswain!

      Boatswain

      Here, master: what cheer?

      Master

      Good, speak to the mariners: fall to't, yarely,

      or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.

      Exit

      Enter Mariners

      Boatswain

      Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!

      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

      ALONSO

      Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master?

      Play the men.

      Boatswain

      I pray now, keep below.

      ANTONIO

      Where is the master, boatswain?

      Boatswain

      Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your

      cabins: you do assist the storm.

      GONZALO

      Nay, good, be patient.

      Boatswain

      When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers

      for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not.

      GONZALO

      Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

      Boatswain

      None that I more love than myself. You are a

      counsellor; if you can command these elements to

      silence, 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

      GONZALO

      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 is miserable.

      Exeunt

      Re-enter Boatswain

      Boatswain

      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.

      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?

      SEBASTIAN

      A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,

      incharitable dog!

      Boatswain

      Work you then.

      ANTONIO

      Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker!

      We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

      GONZALO

      I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were

      no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an

      unstanched wench.

      Boatswain

      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!

      Boatswain

      What, must our mouths be cold?

      GONZALO

      The king and prince at prayers! let's assist them,

      For our case is as theirs.

      SEBASTIAN

      I'm out of patience.

      ANTONIO

      We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:

      This wide-chapp'd rascal—would thou mightst lie drowning

      The washing of ten tides!

      GONZALO

      He'll be hang'd yet,

      Though every drop of water swear against it

      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!'

      ANTONIO

      Let's all sink with the king.

      SEBASTIAN

      Let's take leave of him.

      Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN

      GONZALO

      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

      SCENE II. The island. Before PROSPERO'S cell.

      Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA

      MIRANDA

      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 suffered

      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

      Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere

      It should the good ship so have swallow'd and

      The fraughting souls within her.

      PROSPERO

      Be collected:

      No more amazement: tell your piteous heart

      There's no harm done.

      MIRANDA

      O, woe the day!

      PROSPERO

      No harm.

      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,

      And thy no greater father.

      MIRANDA

      More to know

      Did never meddle with my thoughts.

      PROSPERO

      '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.

      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 ordered that there is no soul—

      No, not

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