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Part 8

The Tempest · William Shakespeare — chapter 8 of 28 · ~477 words · public domain

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Fer. No, I will resist such entertainment, till Mine enemy ha's more pow'r.

He drawes, and is charmed from mouing.

Mira. O deere Father, Make not too rash a triall of him, for Hee's gentle, and not fearfull

Pros. What I say, My foote my Tutor? Put thy sword vp Traitor, Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike: thy conscience Is so possest with guilt: Come, from thy ward, For I can heere disarme thee with this sticke, And make thy weapon drop

Mira. Beseech you Father

Pros. Hence: hang not on my garments

Mira. Sir haue pity, Ile be his surety

Pros. Silence: One word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What, An aduocate for an Impostor? Hush: Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, (Hauing seene but him and Caliban:) Foolish wench, To th' most of men, this is a Caliban, And they to him are Angels

Mira. My affections Are then most humble: I haue no ambition To see a goodlier man

Pros. Come on, obey: Thy Nerues are in their infancy againe. And haue no vigour in them

Fer. So they are: My spirits, as in a dreame, are all bound vp: My Fathers losse, the weaknesse which I feele, The wracke of all my friends, nor this mans threats, To whom I am subdude, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this Mayd: all corners else o'th' Earth Let liberty make vse of: space enough Haue I in such a prison

Pros. It workes: Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariell: follow me, Harke what thou else shalt do mee

Mira. Be of comfort, My Fathers of a better nature (Sir) Then he appeares by speech: this is vnwonted Which now came from him

Pros. Thou shalt be as free As mountaine windes; but then exactly do All points of my command

Ariell. To th' syllable

Pros. Come follow: speake not for him.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others.

Gonz. Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue cause, (So haue we all) of ioy; for our escape Is much beyond our losse; our hint of woe Is common, euery day, some Saylors wife, The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant Haue iust our Theame of woe: But for the miracle, (I meane our preseruation) few in millions Can speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weigh Our sorrow, with our comfort

Alons. Prethee peace

Seb. He receiues comfort like cold porredge

Ant. The Visitor will not giue him ore so

Seb. Looke, hee's winding vp the watch of his wit, By and by it will strike

Gon. Sir

Seb. One: Tell

Gon. When euery greefe is entertaind, That's offer'd comes to th' entertainer

Seb. A dollor

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