Зображення сторінки
PDF
ePub

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

It is entirely probable that the date of "The Tempest” is 1611, and that this was the last play completed by Shakespeare before he retired from active connection with the theater to spend the remainder of his life in leisure in his native town of Stratfordon-Avon.

The main thread of the plot of the drama seems to have been some folk-tale of a magician and his daughter, which, in the precise form in which Shakespeare knew it, has not been recovered. The storm and the island were, it is believed, suggested by the wreck on the Bermudas in 1609 of one of the English expeditions to Virginia. Traces are found, too, of the author's reading in contemporary books of travel.

But the plot itself is of less importance than usual. Supernatural elements are introduced with great freedom, and the dramatist's interest was clearly not in the reproduction of lifelike events. The presentation of character and the attractive picturing of the beauty of magnanimity and forgiveness are the things which, along with its delightful poetry, make the charm of this play. It is not to be wondered at that readers have frequently been led to find in the figure of the great magician, laying aside his robes and wonder-working rod in a spirit of love and peace toward all men, a symbol of the dramatist himself at the close of his great career; and it is surely legitimate to play with this idea without assuming that Shakespeare consciously embodied it. One can hardly conceive a more fitting epilogue to the volume which is the crown of the world's dramatic literature than the romance of "The Tempest."

[blocks in formation]

[Other Spirits attending on Prospero]

SCENE: [A ship at sea;] an uninhabited island

ACT I

SCENE I. [On a ship at sea:] a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard

Master

Enter a SHIP-MASTER and a BOATSWAIN

OATSWAIN!

B

BOATS. Here, master; what cheer?

Fall to 't,

Exit.

MAST. Good; speak to the mariners. yarely, or we run ourselves aground. Bestir, bestir.

Enter MARINERS

BOATS. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master's whistle.-Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough!

1 Smartly.

Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND,

GONZALO, and others

ALON. Good boatswain, have care. Where 's the master?

Play the men.

BOATS. I pray now, keep below.

ANT. Where is the master, boatswain?
BOATS. Do you not hear him?

You mar

our labour.

Keep your cabins; you do assist the storm.

GON. Nay, good, be patient.

BOATS. When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers for the name of king? To cabin! silence! trouble

us not.

GON. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

BOATS. None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more; use your authority. If you cannot, give thanks you have liv'd so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap.-Cheerly, good hearts!-Out of our way, I say.

Exit.

GON. I have great comfort from this fellow. Methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging; make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage. If he be not born to be hang'd, our case is miserable. Exeunt.

Re-enter BOATSWAIN

BOATS. Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring her to try wi' the main-course. A plague

A cry within.

Enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO

upon this howling! They are louder than the weather or our office. Yet again! What do you here? Shall we give o'er and drown? Have you a mind to sink?

SEB. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!

2 Close to the wind.

BOATS. Work you, then.

ANT. Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker! We are less afraid to be drown'd than thou art.

GON. I'll warrant him for drowning though the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell and as leaky as an unstanched wench.

8

BOATS. Lay her a-hold, a-hold! Set her two courses off to sea again! Lay her off.

Enter MARINERS Wet

MARINERS. All lost! To prayers, to prayers! All lost! BOATS. What, must our mouths be cold?

GON. The King and Prince at prayers! Let's assist them, For our case is as theirs.

SEB.

I 'm out of patience.

ANT. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards. This wide-chapp'd rascal-would thou mightst lie drowning The washing of ten tides!

GON.

He'll be hang'd yet,

Though every drop of water swear against it

And gape at wid'st to glut him. A confused noise within. Mercy on us!

We split, we split!

Farewell, my wife and children! Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we split!

ANT. Let's all sink wi' the King.

SEB. Let's take leave of him.

Exit.

GON. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, anything. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death. Exeunt.

SCENE II. [The island. Before Prospero's cell]

Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA

MIR. 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 suffered

Bring her close to the wind. The mainsail and foresail.

"Absolutely.

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.

PROS.

Be collected;

No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart
There's no harm done.

MIR.

PROS.

O, woe the day!

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.

MIR.

More to know

'T is time

Did never meddle with my thoughts.
PROS.

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 ordered 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.

MIR.

You have often

Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd
And left me to a bootless inquisition,
Concluding, "Stay, not yet."

PROS.

The hour 's now come;

1 Composing the freight.

« НазадПродовжити »