The Complete Works of Shakspeare, Revised from the Best Authorities : with a Memoir, and Essay on His Genius

Gon. Therefore, my lord,—

as when we put them on first in Africk, at the

Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,
Seb. Yet-

the King of Tunis.

Seb. 'T was a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return!

Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gon. Not since Widow Dido's time.

Ant. Widow! a pox o' that? How came that widow in? Widow Dido!

Seb. What if he had said, Widower Æneas too? Good lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Adr. Carthage?

Adr. Yet .

Ant. He could not miss it.

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and

delicate temperance.

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Seb. He hath raised the wall, and houses too. Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?

Seb. I think he will carry this island home in

Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly de- his pocket, and give it his son for an apple. livered.

Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea,

Adr. The air breathes upon us here most bring forth more islands. sweetly.

Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or, as 't were perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb. With an eye of green in 't.

Ant. He misses not much.

Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is indeed almost beyond credit)

Seb. As many vouched rarities are.

Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and glosses; being rather new dyed, than stained with salt water.

Gon. Ay?

Ant. Why, in good time.

Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seem now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, Widow Dido. Ant. O, Widow Dido; ay, Widow Dido, Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Ant. That sort was well fished for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?

Alon. You cram these words into mine ears,

against

The stomach of my sense: 'Would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy removed,

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
would it not say, he lies?
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee!

Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.
Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh

Fran.

Sir, he may live;

That would not bless our Europe with your daugh- Without sweat or endeavor: treason, felony,

I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business' making,
Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault's
Your own.

Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.
Gon.

My lord Sebastian,

The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in; you rub the sore,

When you should bring the plaster.

Seb.

Very well.

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.

Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy.

Seb.

Ant.

Foul weather?
Very foul.

Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.

Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing.

Ant. 'T was you we laughed at.

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

Ant. What a blow was there given?
Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.

Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she

Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord, would continue in it five weeks without changing. Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.

Seb.

Or docks, or mallows.

Gon. And were the king of it, what would I do?
Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
Gon. I' the commonwealth, I would by contra-
ries

Execute all things: for no kind of traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;

Enter ARIEL invisible, playing solemn music.

Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling
Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventur my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Will guard your person, while you take your rest, The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim And watch your safety.

Worthy Sebastian?-O, what might? - no

And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,

A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
Which throes thee much to yield.

O, out of that no hope,

What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is
Another way so high an hope, that even

What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee; Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

It is a sleepy language; and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep: What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep

With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.

Ant.

Noble Sebastian,

Thou lett'st thy fortune sleep - die rather; wink'st
Whiles thou art waking.

Seb.

Thou dost snore distinctly;

There's meaning in thy snores.

But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with

Can have no note, unless the sun were post

(The man i' the moon's too slow), till new-born
chins

Be rough and razorable; she, from whom
We were all sea-swallowed, though some cast again;
And, by that, destined to perform an act,

Ant. I am more serious than my custom: Whereof what 's past is prologue; what to come,

you

In yours and my discharge.

Seb. What stuff is this? - How say you? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis:

So is the heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions

There is some space.

cubit

Ant. Α whose every space Seems to cry out, "How shall that Claribel

Measure us back to Naples?"- Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake! Say, this were death That now hath seized them; why, they were no

worse

Than now they are: There be, that can rule Na-
ples,

As well as he that sleeps: lords, that can prate
As amply and unnecessarily

As this Gonzalo; I myself could make

A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For

your advancement? Do you understand me? Seb. Methinks, I do.

Ant.

And how does your content Tender your own good fortune?

Seb.

I remember,

You did supplant your brother Prospero.

Ant.

True:

And, look, how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before: My brother's servants
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.
Seb. But, for your conscience -

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a
kybe,

'T would put me to my slipper: But I feel not
This deity in my bosom; twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they
And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your bro-
ther,

No better than the earth he lies upon,

If he were that which now he's like: whom I,
With this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever: whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk;
They 'll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.

Seb.

Thy case, dear friend,

Shall be my precedent; as thou gott'st Milan,

I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one
stroke

Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st;
And I the king shall love thee.
Draw together:

Ant.

And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.

Seb.

O, but one word.

[They converse apart.

Music.

Re-enter ARIEL, invisible.

Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger

That these, his friends, are in; and sends me forth (For else his project dies) to keep them living.

[Sings in GONZALO's ear.

While you here do snoring lie,
Open-eyed conspiracy

His time doth take:

If of life you keep a care,

Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake! Awake!

Ant. Then let us both be sudden. [They wake.
Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king!
Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are
you drawn?

Wherefore this ghastly looking?

Gon.

What's the matter?

Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your re

pose,

Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions; did it not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.

Alon.

I heard nothing.

Ant. O, 't was a din to fright a monster's ear;
To make an earthquake! sure it was the roar
Of a whole herd of lions.
Alon.

Heard you this, Gonzalo?
Gon. Upon mine honor, sir, I heard a hum-
ming,

And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
I shaked you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes opened,
I saw their weapons drawn :- there was a noise,
That's verity: 'Tis best we stand upon our

guard;

Or that we quit this place: let's draw our wea

pons.

Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make in England now (as once I was), and had this fish further search

For my poor son. Gon.

Heavens keep him from these beasts! man; any strange beast there makes a man: when For he is, sure, i' the island.

SCENE II. Another part of the Island.

Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood.
A noise of thunder heard.

Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him

By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,

Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid them; but
For every trifle are they set upon me:
Sometime like that moe and chatter at me,
And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount
Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I

apes,

All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues, This is a scurvy tune, too: But here's my comfort. Do hiss me into madness: Lo! now! lo!

Enter TRINCULO.

Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me, For bringing wood in slowly: I'll fall flat; Perchance, he will not mind me.

Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' the wind: yond' same black cloud, yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish: a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I

painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a

they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunder-bolt. [Thunder.] Alas! the storm is come again: my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past.

Enter STEPHANO, singing; a bottle in his hand. I shall no more to sea, to sea,

Here shall I die ashore:

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: Well, here's to my comfort. [Drinks.

The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I
The gunner,
and his mate,
Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
But none of us cared for Kate:
For she had a tongue with a tang,
"Go, hang;"
Would cry to a sailor,

She loved not the savor of tar nor of pitch,

Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch: Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.

Cal. Do not torment me: Oh!

[Drinks.

Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not 'scaped drowning to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, "As proper a man as ever went on four legs, cannot make him give ground:" and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at nostrils. Cal. The spirit torments me: Oh!

Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four legs: who hath got, as I take it, an ague: Where the devil should he learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be but for that: If I can recover him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's leather.

« Sebelumnya Teruskan »

Buku

The Complete Works of Shakspeare, Revised from the Best Authorities ..., Jilid 2