Act 1, Scene 2

Original Text

*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 suffer'd 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.

Modern English

*The island. In front of Prospero's dwelling. Prospero and Miranda enter.* MIRANDA. If you used your magic, dearest father, to whip the ocean into this frenzy, please calm it now. The sky looks like it's about to rain down burning tar, except the sea, rising up to meet the clouds, keeps putting the fires out. Oh, I suffered watching those people suffer! That fine ship, which surely carried good people inside it, smashed to pieces. The screaming struck right against my heart! Those poor souls all drowned! If I were any kind of god, I would have swallowed the sea into the earth before it could have swallowed that good ship and all the precious lives aboard her.

Original Text

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.

Modern English

PROSPERO. Calm yourself. No more panic -- tell your tender heart that no one has been harmed. MIRANDA. Oh, what a terrible day! PROSPERO. No harm, I tell you. Everything I've done has been for your sake -- for you, my dear child, you, my daughter, who have no idea who you really are, not knowing where I come from, or that I am something greater than Prospero, keeper of this poor little dwelling, your not-so-impressive father.

Original Text

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 order'd, that there is no soul, No, not so much perdition as an hair 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.

Modern English

MIRANDA. I never wanted to know more than you've told me. PROSPERO. It's time I filled you in. Give me your hand and help me take off this magic cloak. There -- *[He lays down his mantle.]* Lie there, my power. Dry your eyes and take comfort. That dreadful shipwreck you just watched, which stirred every drop of compassion in you -- I arranged it all so carefully with my art that not a single soul was lost, not so much as a hair was harmed on any person aboard that ship you heard crying out, that you saw sinking. Sit down -- there's more you need to know.

Original Text

MIRANDA. You have often Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd, And left me to a bootless inquisition, Concluding "Stay: not yet." PROSPERO. 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 Out three years old. MIRANDA. Certainly, sir, I can.

Modern English

MIRANDA. You've often started to tell me who I really am, but then stopped and left me with my unanswered questions, always concluding, "Wait -- not yet." PROSPERO. The time has come. This very minute demands you open your ears. Listen and pay attention. Can you remember a time before we came to this island? I doubt you can -- you weren't even three years old yet. MIRANDA. Actually, sir, I can.

Original Text

PROSPERO. By what? by any other house or person? Of any thing the image tell me that Hath kept with thy remembrance. MIRANDA. 'Tis far off, And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants. Had I not Four or five women once that tended me? PROSPERO. 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? If thou remember'st ought ere thou camest here, How thou camest here thou mayst. MIRANDA. But that I do not.

Modern English

PROSPERO. How? Through some other house, or some other person? Tell me what image of it has stayed in your memory. MIRANDA. It's very distant, and feels more like a dream than anything I can be sure really happened. Didn't I once have four or five women who looked after me? PROSPERO. You did, and more, Miranda. But how is it this has stayed in your mind? What else can you see in the dark depths and abyss of the past? If you can remember anything before you came here, you might remember how you got here. MIRANDA. But I don't.

Original Text

PROSPERO. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and A prince of power. MIRANDA. Sir, are not you my father? PROSPERO. 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. MIRANDA. O the heavens! What foul play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed was't we did? PROSPERO. Both, both, my girl: By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence; But blessedly holp hither.

Modern English

PROSPERO. Twelve years ago, Miranda -- twelve years ago -- your father was the Duke of Milan, and a powerful prince. MIRANDA. Sir, aren't you my father? PROSPERO. Your mother was a truly virtuous woman, and she said you were my daughter. Your father was the Duke of Milan -- and you were his only heir, a princess of noble birth. MIRANDA. Good heavens! What treachery happened that brought us here? Or was it a blessing that we came? PROSPERO. Both, both, my girl. By treachery, as you say, we were driven out -- but by a blessing, we were guided here.

Original Text

PROSPERO. 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, 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, And to my state grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies.

Modern English

PROSPERO. My brother -- your uncle -- named Antonio -- please, pay attention -- that a brother could be so treacherous! -- the person I loved most in the world after you, to whom I handed the running of my state -- which, at that time, was the foremost of all the Italian city-states, with Prospero considered the leading duke, renowned for his rank and his mastery of the liberal arts. But since those studies consumed me, I dumped the business of government on my brother and grew more and more detached from my own state, lost in my private research.

Original Text

PROSPERO. I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness and the bettering of my mind 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 As my trust was; which had indeed no limit, A confidence sans bound.

Modern English

PROSPERO. By neglecting the real world this way, completely devoted to seclusion and the improvement of my mind through knowledge that -- precisely because I was so withdrawn -- exceeded what most people could appreciate, I woke an evil streak in my dishonest brother. And my trust, like a generous parent, bred in him a deception as enormous as that trust itself -- which truly knew no limits, a boundless confidence.

Original Text

PROSPERO. 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 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!-- To most ignoble stooping.

Modern English

PROSPERO. Wanting no barrier between the role he played and the man he played it for, he had to become the actual Duke of Milan. For me, poor fool, my library was kingdom enough. He now considered me incapable of worldly rule, and he allied himself -- so thirsty was he for power -- with the King of Naples, agreeing to pay him annual tribute, swear allegiance, make Milan's crown subordinate to Naples, and bend the dukedom, never before bowed -- poor Milan! -- to the most degrading submission.

Original Text

PROSPERO. 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 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, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self.

Modern English

PROSPERO. The King of Naples, my longstanding enemy, accepted my brother's proposal: that in exchange for these pledges of loyalty and whatever amount of tribute, Naples would immediately drive me and my family out of the dukedom and hand beautiful Milan, with all its honors, to my brother. And so, a treacherous army was raised. One midnight, chosen for the purpose, Antonio opened the gates of Milan. And in the dead of night, the agents appointed for the task rushed me and you, crying, out of the city.

Original Text

MIRANDA. 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. PROSPERO. Hear a little further, And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon 's; without the which, this story Were most impertinent. Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us?

Modern English

MIRANDA. Oh, how awful! I don't remember crying then, but I'll cry about it now -- it's the kind of story that wrings tears from my eyes. PROSPERO. Hear a bit more, and then I'll get to why all this matters right now -- without that part, the whole story would be beside the point. Why didn't they just kill us right then?

Original Text

PROSPERO. Well demanded, wench: My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, 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 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, Did us but loving wrong.

Modern English

PROSPERO. Good question, child. My story begs that question. Dear girl, they didn't dare -- my people loved me too much for that. They also didn't want blood on their hands. Instead, they dressed up their ugly scheme in nicer colors. In short, they rushed us aboard a ship, carried us a few miles out to sea, and there put us in a rotting shell of a boat -- no rigging, no ropes, no sail, no mast. Even the rats had already abandoned it. They dumped us there to cry to the sea that roared at us, to sigh to the winds that, sighing back in pity, did us a kindness that felt like cruelty.

Original Text

PROSPERO. By Providence divine. Some food we had, and some fresh water, that 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, Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.

Modern English

PROSPERO. By God's grace, we survived. We had some food and fresh water -- a gift from a noble Neapolitan named Gonzalo, who out of his kindness, though he'd been put in charge of carrying out this whole scheme, gave us fine clothing, linens, supplies, and necessities that have served us well ever since. And in his generosity, knowing I loved my books, he stocked the boat from my own library with the volumes I treasure more than my dukedom.

Original Text

PROSPERO. By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies Brought to this shore; and by my prescience 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, And give it way: I know thou canst not choose. *[Miranda sleeps.]* Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. Approach, my Ariel, come.

Modern English

PROSPERO. By extraordinary chance, generous Fortune -- now my dear ally -- has brought my enemies to this very shore. And through my foresight I can see that my fate depends on a most favorable star, and if I don't seize this moment, my fortunes will sink forever after. Stop asking questions now. You're getting sleepy -- it's a healthy drowsiness, so give in to it. I know you can't resist. *[Miranda falls asleep.]* Come here, servant, come. I'm ready now. Come to me, my Ariel.

Original Text

*Enter Ariel.* ARIEL. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task Ariel and all his quality. PROSPERO. Hast thou, spirit, Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee? ARIEL. To every article. 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, Then meet and join.

Modern English

*Ariel enters.* ARIEL. Greetings, great master! Noble sir, greetings! I've come to carry out your wishes -- whether it's to fly, to swim, to dive into fire, to ride the curling clouds. Command me and Ariel will do it, with every skill at his disposal. PROSPERO. Have you, spirit, carried out the storm exactly as I ordered? ARIEL. Down to the last detail. I boarded the king's ship. On the prow, then amidships, on the main deck, in every cabin, I blazed like fire and struck them all with terror. I'd split apart and burn in many places at once. On the topmast, the yardarms, the bowsprit, I'd flame separately, then merge back together.

Original Text

ARIEL. Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners 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."

Modern English

ARIEL. Every soul on board was seized with feverish madness and did desperate, reckless things. All except the sailors plunged into the churning sea and abandoned the ship, which was burning all over with my fire. The king's son, Ferdinand, with his hair standing on end -- stiff as reeds, not hair -- was the first man to jump. He screamed, "Hell is empty, and all the devils are here."

Original Text

PROSPERO. But are they, Ariel, safe? ARIEL. 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. 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.

Modern English

PROSPERO. But are they all safe, Ariel? ARIEL. Not a single hair lost. Not a mark on their clothes -- in fact, they look fresher than before. And as you ordered, I've scattered them in groups around the island. The king's son I set down by himself. I left him sighing and cooling the air with his breath in a secluded corner of the island, sitting with his arms folded in grief.

Original Text

ARIEL. 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. PROSPERO. How now? moody? What is't thou canst demand? ARIEL. My liberty. PROSPERO. Before the time be out? no more! ARIEL. 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. PROSPERO. Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? ARIEL. No.

Modern English

ARIEL. Is there more work to do? Since you keep giving me tasks, let me remind you of what you promised me -- which you still haven't delivered. PROSPERO. What's this? Feeling sorry for yourself? What exactly are you asking for? ARIEL. My freedom. PROSPERO. Before the agreed time is up? Don't even start. ARIEL. Please -- remember I've served you faithfully, never lied to you, never made a mistake, served you without complaint or grumbling. You promised to take a full year off my service. PROSPERO. Have you forgotten what agony I rescued you from? ARIEL. No.

Original Text

PROSPERO. 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? ARIEL. No, sir. PROSPERO. Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me. ARIEL. Sir, in Argier. PROSPERO. This damn'd witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier, Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did They would not take her life. Is not this true? ARIEL. Ay, sir.

Modern English

PROSPERO. You're lying, ungrateful creature! Have you forgotten the foul witch Sycorax, so old and twisted with malice she was bent double like a hoop? Have you forgotten her? ARIEL. No, sir. PROSPERO. Yes you have. Where was she born? Tell me. ARIEL. Sir, in Algiers. PROSPERO. This damned witch Sycorax, for countless evil deeds and sorceries too horrible for human ears, was banished from Algiers. You know this. For one particular crime they spared her life. Isn't this true? ARIEL. Yes, sir.

Original Text

PROSPERO. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, 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, 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 As fast as mill-wheels strike.

Modern English

PROSPERO. This wild-eyed hag arrived here pregnant and was left behind by the sailors. You, my slave -- as you yourself have told me -- were her servant then. And because you were a spirit too refined to carry out her crude and horrible commands, refusing her vile orders, she imprisoned you, with the help of her more powerful demon servants, in the grip of her unstoppable rage, inside the crack of a split pine tree. Trapped in that crevice, you suffered in agony for twelve years. During that time she died and left you there, where you groaned in pain as fast as a mill wheel turns.

Original Text

PROSPERO. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. ARIEL. Pardon, master: I will be correspondent to command, And do my spiriting gently. PROSPERO. Do so; and after two days I will discharge thee. ARIEL. That's my noble master! What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?

Modern English

PROSPERO. If you complain again, I'll crack open an oak tree and wedge you inside its knotted guts until you've howled away twelve more winters. ARIEL. Forgive me, master. I'll obey every command and do my spirit-work cheerfully. PROSPERO. Good. And in two days I'll set you free. ARIEL. That's my noble master! What should I do? Tell me -- what should I do?

Original Text

*Enter Caliban.* CALIBAN. 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! PROSPERO. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, 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. CALIBAN. I must eat my dinner.

Modern English

*Caliban enters.* CALIBAN. May the most poisonous dew my mother ever swept with a raven's feather from some rotten swamp drip all over you both! May a hot southwest wind blow on you and cover you with blisters! PROSPERO. For that, tonight you'll have cramps for sure -- side stitches that'll choke the breath from you. Goblins will torment you through the long dark hours of night. You'll be pinched all over as thick as a honeycomb, and every pinch will sting worse than the bees that made it. CALIBAN. I need to eat my dinner.

Original Text

CALIBAN. 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, 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! 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.

Modern English

CALIBAN. This island is mine -- it belonged to Sycorax, my mother, and you stole it from me. When you first arrived, you petted me and made a fuss over me. You'd give me berry-flavored water and teach me the names of the sun and the moon, which shine by day and night. I loved you then, and I showed you everything this island has to offer -- the freshwater springs, the saltwater pools, the barren and the fertile lands. Cursed be me for doing it! May every hex of Sycorax -- toads, beetles, bats -- fall on you! I am the only subject you have, and I used to be my own king. Now you pen me up in this miserable cave while you keep the rest of the island from me.

Original Text

PROSPERO. Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee, 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. CALIBAN. O ho, O ho! would 't had been done! Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. PROSPERO. 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, 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 Deservedly confined into this rock, Who hadst deserved more than a prison. CALIBAN. 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!

Modern English

PROSPERO. You lying slave -- the only thing that moves you is a beating, not kindness! I treated you, filthy as you are, with human decency and let you live in my own home -- until you tried to rape my daughter. CALIBAN. Ha! I wish I'd succeeded! You stopped me. Otherwise I'd have filled this island with little Calibans. PROSPERO. Disgusting slave, no imprint of goodness will stick to you -- you're capable of nothing but evil! I took pity on you, worked hard to teach you to speak, spent every hour teaching you one thing or another. When you were a savage who couldn't even express your own thoughts, just babbling like the most brutish creature, I gave your ideas words that made them understood. But your vile nature -- though you did learn -- had something in it that decent people could not stand to be around. That's why you were rightfully locked up in this rock, you who deserved worse than a prison. CALIBAN. You taught me language, and the only thing I've gained from it is knowing how to curse. May the red plague destroy you for teaching me your language!

Original Text

*Re-enter Ariel, invisible, playing and singing; Ferdinand following.* ARIEL'S SONG. Come unto these yellow sands, 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. *Burthen [dispersedly].* Hark, hark! Bow-wow. The watch-dogs bark: Bow-wow. ARIEL. Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

Modern English

*Ariel re-enters, invisible, playing music and singing. Ferdinand follows.* ARIEL'S SONG. Come to these golden sands and join hands. Once you've curtsied and kissed, the wild waves hushed to silence, dance nimbly here and there, and sweet spirits, carry the chorus. *Chorus [from different directions].* Listen, listen! Bow-wow. The watchdogs bark: Bow-wow. ARIEL. Listen, listen! I can hear the cocky rooster's call -- Cock-a-doodle-doo.

Original Text

FERDINAND. 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, 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.

Modern English

FERDINAND. Where is this music coming from? The air? The ground? It's stopped -- and surely it attends some god of this island. I was sitting on a bank, weeping once more for my drowned father, when this music crept over the water toward me, soothing both the waves' fury and my grief with its sweet melody. I followed it here -- or rather, it drew me. But now it's gone. No, wait -- it's starting again.

Original Text

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 Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: *Burthen:* Ding-dong. ARIEL. Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell. FERDINAND. The ditty does remember my drown'd father. This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes:--I hear it now above me.

Modern English

ARIEL SINGS. Five full fathoms deep your father lies. His bones have turned to coral. Those are pearls that were his eyes. Nothing of him has decayed but has undergone a transformation into something rich and strange. Sea nymphs ring his funeral bell every hour: *Chorus:* Ding-dong. ARIEL. Listen! Now I hear them -- ding-dong, bell. FERDINAND. This song is about my drowned father. This is no earthly music, no sound that belongs to this world -- I hear it now above me.

Original Text

PROSPERO. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond. MIRANDA. What is't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit. PROSPERO. 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 A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, And strays about to find 'em. MIRANDA. I might call him A thing divine; for nothing natural I ever saw so noble.

Modern English

PROSPERO. Open those fringed curtains of your eyes and tell me what you see over there. MIRANDA. What is it? A spirit? Lord, how he looks around! Believe me, sir, he has a splendid form. But he must be a spirit. PROSPERO. No, child. He eats and sleeps and has the same senses we do. This handsome young man you see was on the wrecked ship. If he weren't a little marked by grief -- which spoils beauty -- you'd call him a very fine-looking person. He's lost his companions and is wandering around trying to find them. MIRANDA. I'd call him something divine. I've never seen anything in nature so noble.

Original Text

FERDINAND. 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, Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder! If you be maid or no? MIRANDA. No wonder, sir; But certainly a maid. FERDINAND. My language! heavens! I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken.

Modern English

FERDINAND. Surely, the goddess whose music I've been hearing! Please, answer my prayer -- may I know if you live on this island, and will you give me some guidance on how to conduct myself here? My most important question, which I save for last, is this -- oh, you wonder! -- are you a maiden, or something more than human? MIRANDA. I'm no wonder, sir, but I am certainly a maiden. FERDINAND. You speak my language! Heavens! I am the highest-ranking person who speaks this tongue -- or I would be, if I were back where it's spoken.

Original Text

FERDINAND. 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 The king my father wreck'd. MIRANDA. Alack, for mercy! FERDINAND. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan And his brave son being twain.

Modern English

FERDINAND. I stand here alone, amazed to hear you mention Naples. The King of Naples hears me -- and it makes me weep to say it: I myself am Naples. With these eyes, which haven't been dry since, I watched the king my father drown. MIRANDA. Oh, heaven have mercy! FERDINAND. Yes, truly -- along with all his lords. The Duke of Milan and his fine son among them.

Original Text

MIRANDA. 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. PROSPERO. Follow me. Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come; 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. FERDINAND. No; I will resist such entertainment till Mine enemy has more power. *[Draws, and is charmed from moving.]*

Modern English

MIRANDA. Nothing evil could live in such a handsome body. If a wicked spirit had such a beautiful home, good things would fight to live there too. PROSPERO. Follow me. Don't speak up for him -- he's a traitor. Come on. I'll chain your neck and feet together. You'll drink seawater. Your food will be freshwater mussels, dried-up roots, and acorn shells. Follow me. FERDINAND. No. I'll resist this treatment until my enemy proves he's stronger than I am. *[He draws his sword but is frozen in place by Prospero's spell.]*

Original Text

FERDINAND. 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 Behold this maid: all corners else o' th' earth Let liberty make use of; space enough Have I in such a prison. PROSPERO. [Aside] It works. [To Ferdinand] Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To Ferdinand] Follow me. [To Ariel] Hark what thou else shalt do me. MIRANDA. Be of comfort; My father's of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted Which now came from him. PROSPERO. Thou shalt be as free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command. ARIEL. To the syllable. PROSPERO. Come, follow. Speak not for him.

Modern English

FERDINAND. My body, as if in a dream, is completely paralyzed. The loss of my father, the weakness I feel, the wreck of all my friends, this man's threats -- to whom I'm now helpless -- would all be nothing to me if I could just see this maiden once a day through my prison bars. Let freedom have every other corner of the earth -- I'd have room enough in such a prison. PROSPERO. [Aside] It's working. [To Ferdinand] Come along. Well done, Ariel! [To Ferdinand] Follow me. [To Ariel] Now listen to what else I need you to do. MIRANDA. Take heart, sir. My father has a kinder nature than his words suggest. This harshness isn't like him at all. PROSPERO. You'll be as free as mountain winds -- but until then, carry out every detail of my commands. ARIEL. To the last syllable. PROSPERO. Come, follow. Don't speak for him.

The Tempest

Act 1, Scene 2

Act 1, Scene 2