The tempest. An opera: Taken from Shakespear. As it is performed at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. The songs from Shakespeare, Dryden, &c. The music composed by Mr. Smith.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- THE ARGUMENT.

- Dramatis Personae.

- [note]

- 1

- ACT I. SCENE I.

- SCENE II.

- SCENE III.

- SCENE IV.

- SCENE V.

- SCENE VI.

- 2

- ACT II. SCENE I.

- SCENE II.

- SCENE III. [A banquet rises.

- SCENE IV. [The banquet vanishes.

- SCENE V.

- SCENE VI.

- SCENE VII.

- 3

- ACT III. SCENE I.

- SCENE II.

- SCENE III.

- SCENE IV.

- SCENE V.

- SCENE VI.

- SCENE VII.

THE TEMPEST. AN OPERA.

FINIS.

THE TEMPEST. AN OPERA. TAKEN FROM SHAKESPEAR. As it is Performed at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane.

The SONGS from SHAKESPEAR, DRYDEN, &c. The MUSIC composed by Mr. SMITH.

LONDON, Printed for J. and R. TONSON, in the Strand. MDCCLVI.

THE ARGUMENT.

PROSPERO, Duke of Milan, dedicating himself entirely to study, commits the government of his dukedom to his brother Anthonio, who, confederating with the king of Naples, to extirpate Prospero, they seize him and his infant daughter, and force them out to sea, in a tatter'd boat: Providence drives the boat on shore, on a barren inchanted island; where Prospero found nobody but a sort of incubus; and here he lives twelve years, in the study and exercise of natural magic.—At this time the same king of Naples, Ferdinand his only son, and Anthonio, returning from marrying the daughter of Naples to the king of Tunis, fall under Prospero's spells.

Here the OPERA begins.

Prospero, raising a tempest, these princes are cast on shore, and dispersed in this island; the king and Anthonio suffer great torments from the supposed loss of the king's son, and from the pangs of their evil deeds: Ferdinand is conducted by Prospero's spirits to the sight of Miranda, Prospero's daughter; who, till then, had never seen any of makind except her father. This young pair falling mutually in love with each other, Prospero causes the king and his attendants to be brought to his cave; where he owns himself to them.—And upon this discovery Anthonio submits to restore the dukedom of Milan to Prospero—and Miranda is betroth'd to Ferdinand, the king's son.

Dramatis Personae.

- ALONZO, King of Naples.

- PROSPERO, The right Duke of Milan.

- ANTHONIO, His brother, the usurping duke of Milan.

- FERDINAND, Son to the king of Naples.

- GONZALO, A nobleman of Naples.

- MIRANDA, Daughter to PROSPERO.

- CALIBAN, A savage and deformed slave.

- STEPHANO, Master of the ship.

- VENTOSO, Mate.

- TRINCALO, Boatswain.

- MUSTACHO, Mariner.

- ARIEL, An airy spirit.

- Other spirits attending on PROSPERO.

THE Principal CHARACTERS Performed by

- Mr. BEARD,

- Mr. CHAMNESS,

- Mr. ABINGTON,

- Mr. ROOKER,

- Mr. G. BURTON,

- Mr. ATKINS,

- Signora CURIONI,

- Mrs. VERNON,

- Miss YOUNG, &c.

IT is hoped that the Reader will excuse the omission of many passages of the first Merit, •…s they stand in the said play; it being impossible 〈◊〉 introduce them in the plan of this Opera.

ACT I. SCENE I.

The Stage darkened—represents a cloudy sky, a very rocky coast, and a ship on a tempestuous sea.—ARIEL comes upon the stage.

AIR.

ARISE, arise, ye subterranean winds,

Arise ye deadly blighting fiends;

Rise you, from whom devouring plagues have birth,

You that i' th' vast and hollow womb of earth

Engender earthquakes, make whole countries shake;

Ye eager winds, whose rapid force can make

All, but the fix'd and solid centre, shake:

Come, drive you ship to that part of the isle

Where nature never yet did smile.

Myself will fly on board, and on the beak,

In the waste, the deck, in every cabin,

I'll flame amazement. Sometimes I'll divide,

And burn in many places. On the top-mast,

The yards, and bowsprit will I flame distinctly,

Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors

Of dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary

And sight out-running, are the the fire and cracks

Of sulph'rous roaring; the most mighty Neptune

Shall seem to siege, make his bold waves tremble,

Yea, his dread trident shake.

[Exit.

Repeated flashes of lightning, and claps of thunder.

SCENE II.

A part of the island near 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.

O! I have suffer'd with those I saw suffer.

Had I been any god of pow'r, I would

Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er

It should the goodly ship have swallow'd, and

The freighting souls within her.

AIR.

Hark how the winds rush from their caves,

Hark how old ocean frets and raves,

From their deep roots the rocks he tears;

Whole deluges lets fly,

That dash against the sky,

And seem to drown the stars.

PROSPERO.

Tell your piteous heart, there's no harm done;

I have done nothing, but in care of thee,

My child, who art ignorant of what thou art;

But I will now inform thee—pray attend:

'Tis twelve years since thy father was the duke

Of Milan—be not amaz'd, my daughter;

Thou art a princess of no less issue.

MIRANDA.

O the heav'ns, what foul play had we!

PROSPERO.

Mark me well.

I then neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated

To study, and the bettering of my mind,

Did cast the government on my brother,

Call'd Anthonio.—He, from substitution,

And executing the outward face of

Royalty, with all prerogative, did

Believe he was indeed the duke; hence his

Ambition growing, he confederates

With the king of Naples, my inveterate foe,

Who, for homage and certain tribute, agrees

To extirpate me from my dukedom, and

To confer fair Milan on my brother:

This settled, and an army levy'd; one night,

Fated to the purpose, did Anthonio open

The gates of Milan, and i' th' dead of darkness,

The ministers for the purpose, hurry'd thence

Me, and thy crying self; in fine, they forc'd us

Out to sea, in a rotten unrigg'd boat,

Where they left us to the mercy of the winds.

AIR.

In pity, Neptune smooths the liquid way,

Obsequious Tritons on the surface play,

And sportful dolphins with a nimble glance,

To the bright sun their glitt'ring scales advance.

In oczy bed profound the billows sleep,

No clamorous winds awake the silent deep;

With safety thro' the sea our boat is bore.

In gentle gales we 're wafted to the shore.

Here in this island we arriv'd, and here

Have I, thy school-master, made thee more profit

Than other princes can, who have more time

For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

MIRANDA.

Heav'n thank you for't!

PROSPERO.

Know further, that fortune,

Now grown bountiful to this shore, hath brought

Mine enemies; and, by my prescience,

I find my zenith doth depend upon

A most propitious star, whose influence

If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes

Will ever after drop.—

Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,

And give it way; I know thou can'st not chuse.

AIR.

MIRANDA.

Come, O sleep, my eyelids close,

Lull my soul to soft repose.

PROSPERO.

Approach, my Ariel.

SCENE III.

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 curled clouds; to thy strong bidding task

Ariel, and all his qualities.

AIR.

In the bright moonshine, while winds whistle loud,

Tivy, tivy, tivy, we mount and we fly,

All racking along in a downy white cloud:

And lest our leap from the sky should prove too far,

We slide on the back of a new-falling star.

Merry, merry, merry, we sail from the east,

Half tippled at a rainbow feast.

PROSPERO.

Spirit, thou hast perform'd to point

The tempest that I bade thee, and dispos'd

The ship and princes exactly to thy charge;

But there's more work: what is the time o' th' day?

ARIEL.

Past the mid-season.

AIR.

PROSPERO.

We must work, we must haste;

Noontide hour is long since past;

Sprights that glimmer in the sun,

Into shades already run;

Naples will be here anon.

ARIEL.

Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd.

PROSPERO.

What is't thou can'st demand?

ARIEL.

My liberty.

PROSPERO.

Before the time be out? No more.

Do'st thou forget

The foul witch Sycorax, the dam of Caliban,

Whom I now keep in service?

ARIEL.

No.

PROSPERO.

Thou do'st, and think'st it much to tread the ooze

Of the salt deep;

To run against the sharp wind of the north,

To do my business in the veins of the earth,

When it is bak'd with frost!

ARIEL.

I do not, sir.

PROSPERO.

Thou best know'st what torment I found thee in:

It was my art, when I arriv'd and heard thee,

That made the pine, within whose rift thou wast

Imprisoned, to gape and let thee out;

And, if thou murmurest, I will rend an oak,

And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till thou

Hast howl'd out twelve long winters.

ARIEL.

Pardon, master.

PROSPERO.

Go, make thyself like a nymph of the sea;

Be subject to no mortal sight but mine.

Hark thee in thine ear—

ARIEL.

My lord, it shall be done.

[Exit.

PROSPERO.

Awake, dear heart, awake! Thou hast slept well,

Awake—

MIRANDA.

The strangeness of your story put

Heaviness in me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Enter FERDINAND—and ARIEL invisible.

AIR.

ARIEL.

Come unto the yellow sands,

And then take hands;

Curt'sy'd when you have, and kiss'd,

The wild waves whist,

Foot it featly here and there,

And sweet spirits the burthen bear.

FERDINAND.

Where should this music be, i' th' air, or earth?

It sounds no more, and sure it waits upon

Some god of this island. Sitting on a bank,

Weeping against the king my father's wreck,

This music hover'd on the waters,

Allaying both their fury and my passion

With chearing airs: thence I follow'd it,

(Or it has drawn me rather) but 'tis gone;

No, it begins again!

AIR.

ARIEL.

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;

Hark! now I hear them, ding, dong, bell.

FERDINAND.

This is no mortal business, nor no sound

That the earth owns: I hear it now above me.

It must mean good or ill, and here I am.

ARIEL.

Here I am.

FERDINAND.

Hah! art thou so? The spirit's turn'd an echo.

ARIEL.

An echo.

FERDINAND.

This might seem pleasant, could the burthen of

My griefs accord with any thing but sighs.

ARIEL.

Sighs.

FERDINAND.

And my last words, like those of dying men,

Need no reply. Fain I would go to shades,

Where few would wish to follow me.

ARIEL.

Follow me.

FERDINAND.

I will discourse no more with thee,

Nor follow one step further.

ARIEL.

One step further.

FERDINAND.

This must have more importance than an echo.

ARIEL.

An echo.

FERDINAND.

I'll try if it will answer when I sing

My sorrows to the murmur of this brook.

ARIEL.

This brook.

DUETT.

FERDINAND.

Go thy way.

ARIEL.

Go thy way.

FERDINAND.

Why should'st thou stay?

ARIEL.

Why should'st thou stay?

FERDINAND.

Where the winds whistle, and where the streams creep,

Under yon willow-tree fain would I sleep:

Then let me alone,

For 'tis time to be gone.

ARIEL.

For 'tis time to be gone.

There's yet in store for thee

Some strange felicity;

Follow me, follow me,

And thou shalt see.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Changes to the wild part of the island.

Enter STEPHANO, VENTOSO, and MUSTACHO.

VENTOSO.

This will be a doleful day with Suky.

She gave me a gilt nutmeg at parting;

That's lost too. O she's a most charming wench.

MUSTACHO.

Beshrew thy heart, for thus reminding me

Of my wife: I should ne'er have thought of her;

But nature will shew itself; I must melt.

STEPHANO.

Look, look, poor Mustacho weeps for grief.

VENTOSO.

In truth, he sheds the brandy from his eyes.

STEPHANO.

Hang wives and mistresses, let's drink about.

AIR.

Here's to thee, Tom, this whining love despise;

Pledge me, my friend, and drink till thou art wife.

It sparkles brighter far than she;

'Tis pure and right, without deceit;

And such no woman e'er will be;

No, they are all sophisticate;

Follies they have so numberless in store,

That only he who loves them can have more;

Neither their sighs nor tears are true,

Those idly blow, these idly fall;

Nothing like to ours at all,

But sighs and tears have sexes too.

Courage, my lads, this island is our own;

The king, the prince, and all their train are drown'd.

VENTOSO.

Then, my good friends, let's form a government.

STEPHANO.

I was the master at sea, and will be

Duke at land: you, Mustacho, was my mate,

And now I'm prince, shalt be my viceroy.

MUSTACHO.

Stephano, let me speak for the people,

Because they are but few, or rather none,

Within this island to speak for themselves:

Know that, to prevent the shedding Christian blood,

We're content Ventoso shall be viceroy,

Provided I be viceroy over him.

Good people, say, are ye all satisfy'd?

What, none answer?—Their silence gives consent.

SCENE VI.

Enter TRINCALO (with a Bottle) half drunk.

TRINCALO.

I shall no more to sea;

Here I shall die on shore.

VENTOSO.

The ghost of Trincalo, our brave boatswain!

Be not afraid, 'tis very Trincalo.

How got you on shore?

TRINCALO.

On a butt of sack.

My cellar is a rock, by the sea-side.

STEPHANO.

Welcome, subject, to our dominion.

TRINCALO.

What subject? what dominion? Here, boys,

Here's old sack: I'll be old Simon the king.

But are you all alive?—for Trincalo

Will tipple with no ghosts, till he be dead.

Stephano, thy Hand.—

VENTOSO.

You must kiss it then.

He is chosen duke, in full assembly.

TRINCALO.

A duke! where? what's he duke of?

MUSTACHO.

This island.

Oh, Trincalo, we are all made for ever,

The island's empty, and all is our own.

VENTOSO.

We two are viceroys o'er all the isle.

TRINCALO.

What, were matters carried thus against me

In my absence? but I oppose it all.

MUSTACHO.

Art thou mad, Trincalo? will you disturb

A settled government? where you don't know

The laws of the country?

TRINCALO.

I'll have no laws.

MUSTACHO.

Then civil war begins.

DUETT.

TRINCALO.

Whilst blood does flow within these veins,

Or any spark of life remains,

My right I will maintain.

MUSTACHO.

Whilst I this temper'd steel can weild,

I'll ne'er to thee, thou braggard, yield;

Thy threats are all in vain.

TRINCALO.

I defy thee.

MUSTACHO.

I'll not fly thee.

TRINCALO.

Braggard, come.

MUSTACHIO.

—Braggard?

Thy boasted courage now I'll try;

I see thou art afraid to die.

TRINCALO.

Not I.

MUSTACHO.

That's a lye.

TRINCALO.

Lye, Sir?

MUSTACHO.

Ay, Sir.

BOTH.

Behold, I conquer, or I die.

STEPHANO.

Hold, loving subjects, we'll have no civil

Wars in this our reign; I here appoint

Both you and him my viceroys o'er this isle.

MUSTACHO and TRINCALO.

Agreed.

TRINCALO sings.

Then since no state's completely blest,

Let's learn the bitter to allay,

Inspir'd with this, let's dance and play [striking the bottle.

Enjoy at least the present day,

And leave to fate the rest.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Another part of the island. FERDINAND discovered.

Enter PROSPERO, MIRANDA, and ARIEL.

PROSPERO.

THE fringed curtains of thine eyes advance,

And see what is yonder.

MIRANDA.

Is't a spirit?

Believe me, Sir, it carries a brave form;

But 'tis a spirit.

PROSPERO.

No; it eats, and sleeps,

And hath such senses as we, were he not

Somewhat stain'd with grief (beauties worst canker)

Thou might'st then call him a goodly person.

MIRANDA.

I might call him a thing divine;

Nothing natural I ever saw so noble.

AIR.

FERDINAND.

What sudden blaze of majesty,

What awful innocence of mein,

Is that which I from hence descry?

Like nature's universal queen.

Sure the goddess, on whom these airs attend,

Such beauty cannot belong to human kind.

MIRANDA.

I am like you a mortal, if such you are.

FERDINAND.

My language too! Oh heav'ns! I am the best

Of them, who speak this language, were I but

In my own country. O! if a virgin,

And your affections not gone forth, I'll make you

Queen of Naples.

PROSPERO sings.

In tender sighs he silence breaks,

The fair his flame approves,

Consenting blushes warm her cheeks,

She smiles, she yields, she loves.

Young Sir, a word; thou dost here usurp

The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thyself

Upon this island, as a spy to win it

From me, the Lord on't.

FERDINAND.

No, as I am a man.

MIRANDA.

There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.

PROSPERO.

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's cradled.—Follow.

FERDINAND.

No:

I will resist such entertainment, till

Mine enemy has more pow'r.

[He draws, and is charm'd from moving.

MIRANDA.

O! dear father,

Make not too rash a trial of him; for

He's gentle, and not fearful.

AIR.

Sweetness, truth, and ev'ry grace,

Which time and use are wont to teach,

The eye may in a moment reach,

And read distinctly in his face.

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, and this man's threats,

To whom I am subdu'd, are but light to me,

Might I but thro' 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.

Hang not on my garment.

MIRANDA:

Have pity, sir.

PROSPERO.

Speak not for him. Follow me, sir:

This door shews you to your lodgings.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A wild part of the island.

Enter ALONZO, ANTHONIO, and GONZALO.

GONZALO.

Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause

(So have we all) for joy of our escape.

ALONZO.

Prithee, peace—My son is lost.

ANTHONIO.

Sir, he may live;

I saw him beat the billows under him,

And ride upon their backs:

I do not doubt, he came alive to land.

ALONZO.

No, no, he's drown'd.

Thou, Anthonio, and myself, were those

Who caus'd his death.

ANTHONIO.

How cou'd we help it?

ALONZO.

Then, then we should have help'd it,

When thou betray'd'st thy brother Prospero,

And his infant daughter, to my power;

And I, too ambitious, took by force

Another's right—then lost we Ferdinand;

Then brought we these sore afflictions on us.

SCENE III. [A banquet rises.

ARIEL sings behind the scenes.

AIR.

Dry those eyes, which are o'erflowing,

All your storms are over blowing:

While you in this isle are biding,

You shall feast, without providing;

Ev'ry dainty you can think of,

Ev'ry wine which you would drink of,

Shall be your's. All want shall shun you,

Ceres' blessing so is on you.

GONZALO.

See yonder table, set out and furnish'd

With all rarities of meats and fruits!

ALONZO.

But who dares taste this feast?

ANTHONIO.

'Tis certain we must either eat or famish.

ALONZO.

If both resolve, I will adventure too.

SCENE IV. [The banquet vanishes.

ARIEL and the strange shapes appear again.

AIR.

ARIEL.

Around, around, we pace,

About this cursed place,

While thus we compass in

These mortals and their sin;

Your vile lives you shall discover,

Truly all your deeds declare,

For about you spirits hover,

That can tell you what they are.

Spirits, take them, take them hence,

Make them grieve for each offence.

[The spirits dance, and then drive 'em off.

Enter PROSPERO.

My charms work; mine enemies, knit in their

Destruction, are now within my pow'r.

AIR.

Upon their broken peace of mind,

Despair, black son of guilt, now feeds;

Whilst thou, brave youth, in love shalt find

The full reward of virtuous deeds.

No gloss our guilt can e'er remove;

It taints the happiest day:

But all the pangs of virtuous love,

Shall virtuous love o'er pay.

[Exit.

SCENE V.

Before PROSPERO's cell.

Enter FERDINAND.

To be a prisoner where I love,

Is but a double tie, a link of fortune,

Join'd to the chain of love; but not to see her,

And yet to be so near her, there's the hardship:

But her fair form lives always in my mind.

AIR.

To what my eyes admir'd before,

I add a thousand graces more,

And fancy blows into a flame,

The spark that from her beauty came:

The object thus improv'd by thought,

By my own image I am caught;

Pygmalion so, with fatal art,

Polish'd the form that stung his heart.

SCENE VI.

Enter MIRANDA.—PROSPERO, at a distance, unseen.

MIRANDA.

Sir, my lord; where are you?

FERDINAND.

Is it your voice, my love; or do I dream?

MIRANDA.

Speak softly, it is I.

FERDINAND.

O heavenly creature!

Ten times more gentle than your father's cruel.

MIRANDA.

How do you bear your prison?

FERDINAND.

'Tis my palace,

Whilst you are here.

Admir'd Miranda, many a lady

I've ey'd with best regard; but you, O you,

So perfect, and so peerless, are created

Of every creature best.

AIR.

In some defect each grace was lost,

Which touch'd my heart: in thee are join'd

The noblest form the earth can boast,

With beavenly innocence of mind.

MIRANDA.

I do not know one of my sex, nor have I

Seen more men than you, and my dear father;

How features are abroad, I'm skilless of:

I wish not any companion but you;

Nor can imagination form a shape,

Besides yourself, to like of.

FERDINAND.

Hear my soul speak:

The very instant that I saw you, did

My heart fly to your service; there resides,

To make me slave to it.

MIRANDA.

Do you love me?

FERDINAND.

O heav'n! O earth! bear witness to this sound,

And crown what I profess with kind event;

Beyond all limit of ought else i' th' world,

I do love you.

AIR.

MIRANDA.

How can I speak my secret pain?

Yet how that secret pain conceal?

Alas! my silence is in vain!

My looks my inmost thoughts reveal.

O, mighty love! thy power is divine;

Town its force, and thus my heart resign.

Then hence with bashful cunning,

And prompt me, plain and holy innocence:

I am your wife, sir, if you approve it.

FERDINAND.

Ay, with a heart so willing,

As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand.

MIRANDA.

And mine with my heart in't: now farewell.

[Exe.

SCENE VII.

Changes to the wild part of the island.

Enter CALIBAN, with a log of wood upon his shoulders.

[A noise of thunder heard.

CALIBAN.

All th' 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.

Enter TRINCALO.

TRINCALO.

In the name of wonder, what have we here?

A man, or fish? for it resembles both:

'Tis some amphibious monster of the isle.

Were I in England, as of late I was,

And this monster to expose to view,

It would make a man of me for ever:

In England any monster makes a man.

Come hither, monster.

CALIBAN.

O torment me not!

TRINCALO.

A sensible monster, and speaks my language.

Dear tortoise, if thou hast the sense of taste,

Open thy mouth, and know me for thy friend.

[Pours the wine down his throat.

CALIBAN.

A brave god, and bears celestial liquor.

TRINCALO.

What say'st thou, monster? will you, like me,

Live soberly, and become my subject?

CALIBAN.

I will swear to serve thee.

AIR.

No more dams I'll make for fish,

Nor fetch in firing, at requiring,

Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish,

Ban, Ban, Cacaliban,

Has got a new master; get a new man.

TRINCALO.

Here, kiss the book.

[Caliban drinks again.

CALIBAN.

By Settibos! this liquor's not earthly;

I pr'ythee, did'st thou not drop from heaven?

TRINCALO.

Only from out the moon, I do assure thee;

I was the man in the moon, when time was.

CALIBAN.

I've seen thee in her, and do adore thee;

My mother shew'd me thee, thy dog, and bush.

Pray be my god, and let me drink again. [drinks again.

I'll shew thee ev'ry fertile inch i' th' isle,

Where berries, nuts, and cluster'd filberds grow.

TRINCALO.

Lead there.

CALIBAN.

The distance is too far to reach,

For see, my lord, the night approaches quick.

AIR.

The owl is abroad, the bat, and the toad,

And so is the cat-a-mountain;

The ant and the mole sit both in a hole.

And frog peeps out of the fountain.

TRINCALO.

Kind monster, stand firm; I see them coming.

CALIBAN.

Whom?

TRINCALO.

The starv'd prince, and his brace of subjects.

Enter STEPHANO, VENTOSO, and MUSTACHO.

CALIBAN.

These sprights sha'n't touch our immortal liquor.

VENTOSO.

Surely he has rais'd the devil to his aid.

MUSTACHO.

Duke Trincalo, we have considered.

TRINCALO.

Say then, is't peace or war?

MUSTACHO.

Peace, and the butt.

STEPHANO.

I come a private person now, great duke,

To live content under your government.

TRINCALO.

You shall enjoy the benefits of peace,

And the first fruits, amongst civil nations,

Is to get drunk for joy; which we'll observe.

Stephano, thou hast been a false rebel;

Yet I forgive thee: in witness whereof

I'll drink soundly.

STEPHANO.

Your grace shall find, that I

Will do you justice, and drink as soundly.

TRINCALO.

Drinking is the life of every thing;

Nothing in nature can subsist without it.

TERZETTO.

TRINCALO.

The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,

And drinks, and gapes for drink again.

STEPHANO.

The plants suck in the earth, and are,

With constant drinking, fresh and fair.

VENTOSO.

The sea itself, which, one would think,

Should have but little need of drink,

Drinks ten thousand rivers up,

So fill'd, that they o'erflow the cup.

TRINCALO.

The busy sun (and one would guess,

By's drunken fiery face, no less)

Drinks up the sea, and when h' as done,

The moon and stars drink up the sun.

ALL.

Earth, seas, sun, moon, and stars do give

Examples how we ought to live.

[Trincalo strikes the bottle after drinking.

ACT III. SCENE I.

PROSPERO's cell.

Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA.

PROSPERO.

IF I have too austerely punish'd you,

Your compensation makes amends; for I

Have giv'n you here a thread of mine own life,

Or that for which I live. O, Ferdinand,

Do not smile at me, that I boast her off;

For thou shalt find she will out-strip all praise.

FERDINAND.

I do believe it, against an oracle.

AIR.

Have you seen but a bright lilly grow,

Before rude hands have touch'd it?

Have you mark'd but the fall of the snow,

Before the soil hath smutch'd it?

Have you felt the wool of the beaver?

Or swan's down ever?

Or have smelt o' the bud o' the briar?

Or the nard i' the fire?

Or have tasted the bag of the bee?

Oh, so white! Oh, so soft! Oh, so sweet is she!

PROSPERO.

If thou dost break her virgin-knot before

All sanctimonious ceremonies may

With full and holy rite be minister'd,

No sweet aspersions shall the heav'ns let fall,

To make this contract grow: therefore take heed,

As Hymen's lamps shall light you.

FERDINAND.

Nothing shall melt mine honour into lust,

To spoil the edge of that day's celebration.

PROSPERO.

Fairly spoken; Miranda is thine own.

What Ariel; my industrious servant, Ariel—

SCENE II.

Enter ARIEL.

ARIEL.

What would my potent master? here I am.

PROSPERO.

How fares the king and 's followers?

ARIEL.

Confin'd,

In the same fashion as you gave in charge:

The king, his brother, and yours, are all three

Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly

Old Gonzalo, his tears run down his beard

Like winter's drops, like ears of reeds; if you

Saw them, your affections would become tender.

PROSPERO.

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling

Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,

Passion'd as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art?

They being penitent, the sole drist of

My purpose doth extend not a frown further;

Go, bring them, Ariel, hither; and let thy

Meaner fellows fetch the rabble, o'er whom

I gave them pow'r to do it presently.

AIR.

ARIEL.

Before you can say, come and go,

And breathe twice, and cry, so—so,

Each one tripping on his toe,

Will be here with mop and mow.

Do you love me, master?—No.

So ready and quick is a spirit of air,

To pity the lover, and succour the fair,

That, silent and swift, the little soft god

Is here with a wish, and is gone with a nod.—

[Exit Ariel.

SCENE III.

PROSPERO.

Look thou be true, and do not give dalliance

Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw

To th' fire i' th' blood: be more abstemious,

Or else, good night, your vow.

FERDINAND.

I warrant you, Sir.

The white, cold virgin-snow upon my heart,

Abates the ardour of my passion.

AIR.

MIRANDA.

Hope waits upon the flow'ry prime;

And summer, tho' it be less gay,

Yet is not look'd on as a time

Of declination, or decay;

For, with a full hand, that does bring

All that was promis'd by the spring.

[Exeunt Ferdinand and Miranda.

SCENE IV.

PROSPERO.

Now does my project gather to a head,

And little further use have I for charms.

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;

And ye that on the sands, with printless foot,

Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him,

When he comes back; you demy-puppets, that,

By moon-shine, do the green-sour ringlets make,

Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime

Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice

To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid

(Weak masters tho' ye be) I have be-dimm'd

The noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,

And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault

Set roaring war; to the dread rattling thunder

Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak

With his own bolt—the strong-bas'd promontory

Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck'd up

The pine and cedar: graves, at my command,

Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let them forth,

By my so potent art. But this rough magic

I here abjure.

AIR.

Let magick sounds affright no more,

While horrors shake the main;

Nor spell-bred storms deface the shore,

Let sacred nature reign!

Deep in the earth, where sun shall never shine,

This cloud-compelling war I place;

This book th' unfathom'd ocean shall confine,

Beyond the reach of mortal race.

SCENE V.

Enter ARIEL, followed by ALONZO, ANTHONIO and GONZALO.

ALONZO.

All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement,

Inhabits here: some heav'nly powers guide us

Out of this fearful country—

PROSPERO.

Behold, sir, king,

The wrong'd duke of Milan, Prospero:

For more assurance that a living prince

Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body,

And bid thee welcome!

ALONZO.

Be'st thou he, or no,

Or some inchanted trifle to abuse,

As late I have been, I know not. Thy pulse

Beats as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,

Th' afflictions of my mind amends: this must crave

(And, if this be all, a most strange story)

Thy dukedom I resign, and do intreat

Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should he

Be living, and be here?

PROSPERO.

You all yet taste

Some subtilties o' th' isle, that will not let you

Believe things certain: welcome, my friends all.

For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother,

Would ev'n infect my mouth, I do forgive

Thy rankest faults. Know for certain, my friends,

That I am Prosp'ro, and that very duke

Who was thrust forth of Milan:

No more of this;

For 'tis a chronicle of day by day,

Not fitting our first meeting. Alonzo,

I'll shew thee a wonder to content thee

As much as me my dukedom: follow me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

Opens to the entrance of PROSPERO's cell, and discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chess.

MIRANDA.

Sweet lord, you play me false.

FERDINAND.

No, my dear love,

I would not for the world.

MIRANDA.

Yes, for a score of kingdoms you shall wrangle,

And I would call it fair play.

AIR.

FERDINAND.

If on those endless charms you lay

The value that's their due,

Kings are themselves too poor to pay,

A thousand worlds too few.

But if a passion without vice,

Without disguise or art,

Miranda, if true love's your price,

Behold it in my heart.

SCENE VII.

Enter PROSPERO, ALONZO, ANTHONIO, GONZALO, and ARIEL.

ALONZO.

If this prove

A vision of the island, our dear son

Shall I twice lose.

FERDINAND.

Though the seas threaten, they are merciful:

I've cursed them without cause.

[Ferdinand kneels.

ALONZO.

Now all the blessings of a glad father

Compass thee about!

MIRANDA.

How many goodly creatures are there here?

How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,

That has such people in't.

PROSPERO.

'Tis new to thee.

ALONZO.

What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?

Your eldest acquaintance cannot be three hours:

Is she the goddess that hath bro't us hither?

FERDINAND.

Sir, she's mortal;

And, O thanks to providence, she's mine.

I chose her when I could not ask my father

For his advice, nor thought I had one. She

Is daughter to this famous duke of Milan,

Of whom I have receiv'd a second life.

AIR.

Life resembles April weather;

Bright the purple dawn appears;

Noon is shade and shine together,

Dark the eve descends in tears.

Follow then the voice of reason!

Use the moment as it flies!

Calm in ev'ry cloudy season,

Gay beneath serener skies.

ALONZO.

I am her's;

But oh how oddly will it sound, that I

Must ask my child forgiveness!

PROSPERO.

There, sir, stop:

Let us not burthen our remembrance with

An heaviness that's gone.

ALONZO.

Give me your hands;

Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart

That doth not give you joy.

AIR.

PROSPERO (to MIRANDA.)

With him thy joys shall be compleat,

Dissolv'd in ease, thy hours shall flow:

With love alone thy heart shall beat,

And his be all th' alarms you know.

Cares to sooth, and life befriend,

Pleasures on your nod attend.

PROSPERO.

Sir, I invite your highness and your train

To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest

For this one night, which (part of it) I'll waste

With such discourses, as I doubt not, will make it

Quickly pass away, and in the morning

I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples;

Where I hope to see the nuptials

Of these, our dear beloved, solemniz'd.

ALONZO.

I long to hear the story of your life.

PROSPERO.

In proper time, I will deliver all,

And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,

And sail so expeditious, that shall catch

Your royal fleet far off: my Ariel, chick,

This is thy charge, then to the elements,

Be free, and fare you well.

DUETT.

FERDINAND.

Love, gentle love, now fill my breast,

The storms of life are o'er;

In thee, my dear Miranda, blest,

What can I wish for more.

MIRANDA.

Love, gentle love, and chaste desire,

My breast shall ever move:

Let me those heav'nly joys inspire,

And all our life be love.

FERDINAND.

Thus ever kind,

MIRANDA.

Thus ever true,

FERDINAND.

May I, my sweet one, find,

MIRANDA.

May I be all in you,

BOTH.

And sacred Hymen shall dispense

The sweets of love and innocence.

CHORUS.

Let sacred Hymen now dispense

The sweets of love and innocence;

Let him his choicest blessings shed,

And nobly fruitful be their bed;

Virtue and love shall deck their crown,

With happy days and high renown.

Information about this book

Title statement

The tempest. An opera: Taken from Shakespear. As it is performed at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. The songs from Shakespeare, Dryden, &c. The music composed by Mr. Smith.

Garrick, David, 1717-1779.

Publication

Distributor

University of Oxford Text Archive
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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4208

ID [isbn10]

1106012070

ID [isbn13]

9781106012074

ID [TCP]

K046085.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3315644981

ID [ECLL]

1017801700

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— The tempest. An opera: Taken from Shakespear. As it is performed at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. The songs from Shakespeare, Dryden, &c. The music composed by Mr. Smith., Garrick, David, 1717-1779., Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616.. [8],47,[1]p. ; 8⁰. London :: printed for J. and R. Tonson,. 1756.. [The adaptation probably by David Garrick.] [With a half-title.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT49920.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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