Shakespeare's First Folio Part 14

Bids thee leaue these, & with her soueraigne grace,

Iuno descends.

Here on this gra.s.se-plot, in this very place To come, and sport: here Peac.o.c.ks flye amaine: Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertaine.

Enter Ceres.

Cer. Haile, many-coloured Messenger, that nere Do'st disobey the wife of Iupiter: Who, with thy saffron wings, vpon my flowres Diffusest hony drops, refres.h.i.+ng showres, And with each end of thy blew bowe do'st crowne My boskie acres, and my vnshrubd downe, Rich scarph to my proud earth: why hath thy Queene Summond me hither, to this short gras'd Greene?

Ir. A contract of true Loue, to celebrate, And some donation freely to estate On the bles'd Louers

Cer. Tell me heauenly Bowe, If Venus or her Sonne, as thou do'st know, Doe now attend the Queene? since they did plot The meanes, that duskie Dis, my daughter got, Her, and her blind-Boyes scandald company, I haue forsworne

Ir. Of her societie Be not afraid: I met her deitie Cutting the clouds towards Paphos: and her Son Doue-drawn with her: here thought they to haue done Some wanton charme, vpon this Man and Maide, Whose vowes are, that no bed-right shall be paid Till Hymens Torch be lighted: but in vaine, Ma.r.s.es hot Minion is returnd againe, Her waspish headed sonne, has broke his arrowes, Swears he will shoote no more, but play with Sparrows, And be a Boy right out

Cer. Highest Queene of State, Great Iuno comes, I know her by her gate

Iu. How do's my bounteous sister? goe with me To blesse this twaine, that they may prosperous be, And honourd in their Issue.

They sing.

Iu. Honor, riches, marriage, blessing, Long continuance, and encreasing, Hourely ioyes, be still vpon you, Iuno sings her blessings on you.

Earths increase, foyzon plentie, Barnes, and Garners, neuer empty.

Vines, with cl.u.s.tring bunches growing, Plants, with goodly burthen bowing: Spring come to you at the farthest, In the very end of Haruest.

Scarcity and want shall shun you, Ceres blessing so is on you

Fer. This is a most maiesticke vision, and Harmonious charmingly: may I be bold To thinke these spirits?

Pro. Spirits, which by mine Art I haue from their confines call'd to enact My present fancies

Fer. Let me liue here euer, So rare a wondred Father, and a wise Makes this place Paradise

Pro. Sweet now, silence: Iuno and Ceres whisper seriously, There's something else to doe: hush, and be mute Or else our spell is mar'd.

Iuno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment.

Iris. You Nimphs cald Nayades of y windring brooks, With your sedg'd crownes, and euer-harmelesse lookes, Leaue your crispe channels, and on this green-Land Answere your summons, Iuno do's command.

Come temperate Nimphes, and helpe to celebrate A Contract of true Loue: be not too late.

Enter Certaine Nimphes.

You Sun-burn'd Sicklemen of August weary, Come hether from the furrow, and be merry, Make holly day: your Rye-straw hats put on, And these fresh Nimphes encounter euery one In Country footing.

Enter certaine Reapers (properly habited:) they ioyne with the Nimphes, in a gracefull dance, towards the end whereof, Prospero starts sodainly and speakes, after which to a strange hollow and confused noyse, they heauily vanish.

Pro. I had forgot that foule conspiracy Of the beast Calliban, and his confederates Against my life: the minute of their plot Is almost come: Well done, auoid: no more

Fer. This is strange: your fathers in some pa.s.sion That workes him strongly

Mir. Neuer till this day Saw I him touch'd with anger, so distemper'd

Pro. You doe looke (my son) in a mou'd sort, As if you were dismaid: be cheerefull Sir, Our Reuels now are ended: These our actors, (As I foretold you) were all Spirits, and Are melted into Ayre, into thin Ayre, And like the baselesse fabricke of this vision The Clowd-capt Towres, the gorgeous Pallaces, The solemne Temples, the great Globe it selfe, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolue, And like this insubstantiall Pageant faded Leaue not a racke behinde: we are such stuffe As dreames are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleepe: Sir, I am vext, Beare with my weakenesse, my old braine is troubled: Be not disturb'd with my infirmitie, If you be pleas'd, retire into my Cell, And there repose, a turne or two, Ile walke To still my beating minde

Fer. Mir. We wish your peace.

Enter.

Pro. Come with a thought; I thank thee Ariell: come.

Enter Ariell.

Ar. Thy thoughts I cleaue to, what's thy pleasure?

Pro. Spirit: We must prepare to meet with Caliban

Ar. I my Commander, when I presented Ceres I thought to haue told thee of it, but I fear'd Least I might anger thee

Pro. Say again, where didst thou leaue these varlots?

Ar. I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking, So full of valour, that they smote the ayre For breathing in their faces: beate the ground For kissing of their feete; yet alwaies bending Towards their proiect: then I beate my Tabor, At which like vnback't colts they p.r.i.c.kt their eares, Aduanc'd their eye-lids, lifted vp their noses As they smelt musicke, so I charm'd their eares That Calfe-like, they my lowing follow'd, through Tooth'd briars, sharpe firzes, p.r.i.c.king gosse, & thorns, Which entred their fraile s.h.i.+ns: at last I left them I'th' filthy mantled poole beyond your Cell, There dancing vp to th' chins, that the fowle Lake Ore-stunck their feet

Pro. This was well done (my bird) Thy shape inuisible retaine thou still: The trumpery in my house, goe bring it hither For stale to catch these theeues

Ar. I go, I goe.

Enter.

Pro. A Deuill, a borne-Deuill, on whose nature Nurture can neuer sticke: on whom my paines Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost, And, as with age, his body ouglier growes, So his minde cankers: I will plague them all, Euen to roaring: Come, hang on them this line.

Enter Ariell, loaden with glistering apparell, &c. Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet.

Cal. Pray you tread softly, that the blinde Mole may not heare a foot fall: we now are neere his Cell

St. Monster, your Fairy, w you say is a harmles Fairy, Has done little better then plaid the Iacke with vs

Trin. Monster, I do smell all horse-p.i.s.se, at which My nose is in great indignation

Ste. So is mine. Do you heare Monster: If I should Take a displeasure against you: Looke you

Trin. Thou wert but a lost Monster

Cal. Good my Lord, giue me thy fauour stil, Be patient, for the prize Ile bring thee too Shall hudwinke this mischance: therefore speake softly, All's husht as midnight yet

Trin. I, but to loose our bottles in the Poole

Ste. There is not onely disgrace and dishonor in that Monster, but an infinite losse

Tr. That's more to me then my wetting: Yet this is your harmlesse Fairy, Monster