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    The Tempest

    3.8 52

    by William Shakespeare


    Paperback

    (Large Print Edition)

    $5.99
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    Alden Vaughan is a professor at Columbia University.

    Virginia Vaughan is a professor at Clark University.

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    Chapter 1

    list of parts

    PROSPERO, the right Duke of Milan
    MIRANDA, his daughter
    ALONSO, King of Naples
    SEBASTIAN, his brother
    ANTONIO, Prospero's brother, the usurping Duke of Milan
    FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples
    GONZALO, an honest old councillor
    ADRIAN and FRANCISCO, lords
    TRINCULO, a jester
    STEPHANO, a drunken butler
    MASTER, of a ship
    BOATSWAIN
    MARINERS
    CALIBAN, a savage and deformed slave
    ARIEL, an airy spirit
    IRIS, CERES, JUNO, spirits commanded by Prospero playing roles of NYMPHS, REAPERS

    The Scene: an uninhabited island

    Act 1 Scene 1 running scene 1

    A tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard. Enter a Shipmaster and a Boatswain

    MASTER Boatswain!

    BOATSWAIN Here, master. What cheer?

    MASTER Good: speak to th'mariners. Fall to't yarely, or we run ourselves aground! Bestir, bestir! Exit

    Enter Mariners

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

    Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, Gonzalo and others

    ALONSO Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master? Play the men.

    BOATSWAIN I pray now, keep below.

    ANTONIO Where is the master, boatswain?

    BOATSWAIN Do you not hear him? You mar our labour. Keep your cabins! You do assist the storm.

    GONZALO Nay, good, be patient.

    BOATSWAIN When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers for the name of king? To cabin! Silence! Trouble us not.

    GONZALO Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

    BOATSWAIN 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 lived 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.

    Exeunt [Boatswain with Mariners, followed by Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio and Ferdinand]

    GONZALO 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 hanged, our case is miserable. Exit

    Enter Boatswain

    BOATSWAIN Down with the topmast! Yare! Lower, lower! Bring her to try with main course. (A cry within) A plague upon this howling! They are louder than the weather or our office.

    Enter Sebastian, Antonio and Gonzalo

    Yet again? What do you here? Shall we give o'er and drown? Have you a mind to sink?

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

    BOATSWAIN Work you then.

    ANTONIO Hang, cur! Hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker! We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

    GONZALO I'll warrant him for drowning, though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an unstanched wench.

    BOATSWAIN Lay her ahold, ahold! Set her two courses off to sea again! Lay her off!

    Enter Mariners, wet

    MARINERS All lost! To prayers, to prayers! All lost!

    BOATSWAIN What, must our mouths be cold?

    GONZALO The king and prince at prayers: let's assist them, for our case is as theirs.

    SEBASTIAN I'm out of patience.

    ANTONIO We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards. This wide-chopped rascal: would thou mightst lie drowning, the washing of ten tides!

    GONZALO He'll be hanged yet,
    Though every drop of water swear against it
    And gape at wid'st to glut him. [Exeunt Boatswain and Mariners]

    A confused noise within

    [VOICES OFF-STAGE] Mercy on us! - We split, we split! - Farewell, my wife and children! - Farewell, brother! - We split, we split, we split!

    ANTONIO Let's all sink wi'th'king.

    SEBASTIAN Let's take leave of him. Exeunt [Antonio and Sebastian]

    GONZALO 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.

    Exit

    Act 1 Scene 2 running scene 2

    Enter Prospero and Miranda

    MIRANDA 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 th'welkin's cheek,
    Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered
    With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel -
    Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her -
    Dashed all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
    Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perished.
    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 swallowed, and
    The fraughting souls within her.

    PROSPERO Be collected:
    No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart
    There's no harm done.

    MIRANDA O, woe the day!

    PROSPERO 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.

    MIRANDA More to know
    Did never meddle with my thoughts.

    PROSPERO 'Tis time
    I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand
    And pluck my magic garment from me. So:
    Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes, have his magic cloak comfort.
    The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touched
    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, [Miranda sits]
    For thou must now know further.

    MIRANDA You have often
    Begun to tell me what I am, but stopped
    And left me to a bootless inquisition,
    Concluding 'Stay: not yet.'

    PROSPERO The hour's now come,
    The very minute bids thee ope thine ear:
    Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember
    A time before we came unto this cell?
    I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not
    Out three years old.

    MIRANDA Certainly, sir, I can.

    PROSPERO By what? By any other house or person?
    Of any thing the image, tell me, that
    Hath kept with thy remembrance.

    MIRANDA 'Tis far off,
    And rather like a dream than an assurance
    That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
    Four or five women once that tended me?

    PROSPERO Thou hadst; and more, Miranda. But how is it
    That this lives in thy mind? What see'st thou else
    In the dark backward and abysm of time?
    If thou rememb'rest aught ere thou cam'st here,
    How thou cam'st here thou mayst.

    MIRANDA But that I do not.

    PROSPERO Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
    Thy father was the Duke of Milan and
    A prince of power.

    MIRANDA Sir, are not you my father?

    PROSPERO Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
    She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father
    Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir
    And princess, no worse issued.

    MIRANDA O the heavens!
    What foul play had we, that we came from thence?
    Or blessèd wast we did?

    PROSPERO Both, both, my girl.
    By foul play - as thou say'st - were we heaved thence,
    But blessedly holp hither.

    MIRANDA O, my heart bleeds
    To think o'th'teen that I have turned you to,
    Which is from my remembrance. Please you, further.

    PROSPERO My brother and thy uncle, called Antonio -
    I pray thee, mark me - that a brother should
    Be so perfidious - he whom next thyself
    Of all the world I loved, and to him put
    The manage of my state, as at that time
    Through all the signories it was the first,
    And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed
    In dignity, and for the liberal arts
    Without a parallel; those being all my study,
    The government I cast upon my brother
    And to my state grew stranger, being transported
    And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle -
    Dost thou attend me?

    MIRANDA Sir, most heedfully.

    PROSPERO Being once perfected how to grant suits,
    How to deny them, who t'advance and who
    To trash for over-topping, new created
    The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,
    Or else new formed 'em; having both the key
    Of officer and office, set all hearts i'th'state
    To what tune pleased his ear, that now he was
    The ivy which had hid my princely trunk
    And sucked my verdure out on't.- Thou attend'st not.

    MIRANDA O good sir, I do.

    PROSPERO I pray thee, mark me:
    I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
    To closeness and the bettering of my mind
    With that, which but by being so retired,
    O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother
    Awaked an evil nature, and my trust,
    Like a good parent, did beget of him
    A falsehood in its contrary, as great
    As my trust was, which had indeed no limit,
    A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,
    Not only with what my revenue yielded,
    But what my power might else exact: like one
    Who having into truth, by telling of it,
    Made such a sinner of his memory
    To credit his own lie, he did believe
    He was indeed the duke, out o'th'substitution
    And executing th'outward face of royalty
    With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing -
    Dost thou hear?

    MIRANDA Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

    PROSPERO To have no screen between this part he played,
    And him he played it for, he needs will be
    Absolute Milan. Me - poor man - my library
    Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties
    He thinks me now incapable. Confederates -
    So dry he was for sway - wi'th'King of Naples
    To give him annual tribute, do him homage,
    Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend
    The dukedom yet unbowed - alas, poor Milan -
    To most ignoble stooping.

    MIRANDA O the heavens!

    PROSPERO Mark his condition and th'event, then tell me
    If this might be a brother.

    MIRANDA I should sin
    To think but nobly of my grandmother:
    Good wombs have borne bad sons.

    PROSPERO Now the condition.
    This King of Naples, being an enemy
    To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit,
    Which was, that he, in lieu o'th'premises
    Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,
    Should presently extirpate me and mine
    Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan,
    With all the honours, on my brother: whereon,
    A treacherous army levied, one midnight
    Fated to th'purpose, did Antonio open
    The gates of Milan, and i'th'dead of darkness
    The ministers for th'purpose hurried thence
    Me and thy crying self.

    MIRANDA Alack, for pity!
    I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then,
    Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint
    That wrings mine eyes to't.

    PROSPERO Hear a little further,
    And then I'll bring thee to the present business
    Which now's upon's: without the which, this story
    Were most impertinent.

    MIRANDA Wherefore did they not
    That hour destroy us?

    PROSPERO Well demanded, wench:
    My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,
    So dear the love my people bore me: nor set
    A mark so bloody on the business: but
    With colours fairer, painted their foul ends.
    In few, they hurried us aboard a barque,
    Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared
    A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigged,
    Nor tackle, sail, nor mast: the very rats
    Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,
    To cry to th'sea that roared to us; to sigh
    To th'winds, whose pity sighing back again,
    Did us but loving wrong.

    MIRANDA Alack, what trouble
    Was I then to you!

    PROSPERO O, a cherubin
    Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile,
    Infusèd with a fortitude from heaven,
    When I have decked the sea with drops full salt,
    Under my burden groaned, which raised in me
    An undergoing stomach, to bear up
    Against what should ensue.

    MIRANDA How came we ashore?

    PROSPERO By providence divine.
    Some food we had, and some fresh water, that
    A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
    Out of his charity - who being then appointed
    Master of this design - did give us, with
    Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,
    Which since have steaded much. So, of his gentleness,
    Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me
    From mine own library with volumes that
    I prize above my dukedom.

    MIRANDA Would I might
    But ever see that man.

    PROSPERO Now I arise: Prospero stands
    Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
    Here in this island we arrived, and here
    Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
    Than other princes can that have more time
    For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

    MIRANDA Heavens thank you for't. And now, I pray you,
    sir,
    For still 'tis beating in my mind: your reason
    For raising this sea-storm?

    PROSPERO Know thus far forth:
    By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune -
    Now my dear lady - hath mine enemies
    Brought to this shore: and by my prescience
    I find my zenith doth depend upon
    A most auspicious star, whose influence
    If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes
    Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions:
    Thou art inclined to sleep. 'Tis a good dullness,
    And give it way: I know thou canst not choose.- Miranda
    Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. sleeps
    Approach, my Ariel, come.

    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 the curled clouds: to thy strong bidding task
    Ariel and all his quality.

    PROSPERO Hast thou, spirit,
    Performed to point the tempest that I bade thee?

    ARIEL To every article.
    I boarded the king's ship: now on the beak,
    Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
    I flamed amazement: sometime I'd divide
    And burn in many places; on the topmast,
    The yards and bowsprit would I flame distinctly,
    Then meet and join. Jove's lightning, the precursors
    O'th'dreadful thunderclaps, more momentary
    And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks
    Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
    Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,
    Yea, his dread trident shake.

    PROSPERO My brave spirit!
    Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
    Would not infect his reason?

    ARIEL Not a soul
    But felt a fever of the mad and played
    Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners
    Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,
    Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
    With hair up-staring - then like reeds, not hair -
    Was the first man that leaped; cried 'Hell is empty
    And all the devils are here.'

    PROSPERO Why, that's my spirit!
    But was not this nigh shore?

    ARIEL Close by, my master.

    PROSPERO But are they, Ariel, safe?

    ARIEL Not a hair perished:
    On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
    But fresher than before: and, as thou bad'st me,
    In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle.
    The king's son have I landed by himself,
    Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs
    In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
    His arms in this sad knot. [Folds his arms]

    Table of Contents

    List of abbreviations and conventions; Preface to the second edition; Introduction; Note on the text; List of characters; The play; Textual analysis; Appendix 1. The songs; Appendix 2. Parallel passages from Virgil and Ovid; Appendix 3. And others: casting the play; Reading list.
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    William Shakespeare is almost universally considered the English language's most famous and greatest writer. In fact, the only people who might dispute that are those who think he didn't write the surviving 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and several other poems still attributed to him. Even people who never get around to reading his works in class are instantly familiar with titles like King Lear, Othello, Hamlet, Macbeth, and Romeo & Shakespeare.

    The Tempest is believed to be one of Shakespeare's last plays, or at least the last he wrote alone. It is a tragicomedy that tells the story of the Duke of Milan, who is stuck on a remote island while plotting to return his family to its rightful place on the throne.

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    From the Publisher
    Review of the first edition: 'If you are looking for a model edition - by which I mean one that is concerned to honour the text and to explain the processes involved in editing - this is it. If I were ever again to undertake the editing of a Shakespeare play, I would keep Lindley's edition of The Tempest open beside me.' Peter Thompson

    Review of the first edition: 'David Lindley's [The] Tempest is the best edition on the market and the paperback is a snip.' Studies in Theatre and Performance

    Review of the first edition: 'Lindley aims both to represent and to explain the range of readings given the play in its theatrical and critical afterlives. His edition meets the high standards of the series in an exemplary manner, offering an especially fine introduction that focuses on the elusiveness of The Tempest, a feature that has made it central to late-twentieth-century criticism.' Barbara Hodgdon, Studies in English Literature

    Review of the first edition: 'David Lindley's edition of The Tempest is easily the most outstanding version of this ostensibly straightforward yet hugely teasing play produced over the last thirty years. Its precise and scrupulous commentary notes are careful to the variety of ways the text can be spoken on stage. Its notes on the music and songs are admirably evocative, and its economical account of the huge range of critical views will send thousands of readers out in fruitful chases after the play's own multitudinous interests.' Andrew Gurr, editor, New Variorum 'Tempest'

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