Читать книгу The Tempest - Уильям Шекспир, William Szekspir, the Simon Studio - Страница 3

  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,

    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.

  PROSPERO. Be conected;

    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 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.

  MIRANDA. You have often

    Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd,

    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 seest 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 blessed was't we did?

  PROSPERO. Both, both, my girl.

    By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence;

    But blessedly holp hither.

  MIRANDA. O, my heart bleeds

    To think o' th' teen that I have turn'd you to,

    Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.

  PROSPERO. My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio-

    I pray thee, mark me that a brother should

    Be so perfidious. He, whom next thyself

    Of all the world I lov'd, 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 chang'd 'em,

    Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key

    Of officer and office, set all hearts i' th' state

    To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was

    The ivy which had hid my princely trunk

    And suck'd 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 retir'd,

    O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother

    Awak'd 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 play'd

    And him he play'd 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 unbow'd-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 busines

    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 bark;

    Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared

    A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigg'd,

    Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats

    Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,

    To cry to th' sea, that roar'd 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,

    Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

    When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,

    Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd 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 lov'd my books, he furnish'd 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. [Puts on his mantle]

    Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.

    Here in this island we arriv'd; and here

    Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit

    Than other princess' 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 inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dullness,

    And give it way. I know thou canst not choose.

                                                [MIRANDA sleeps]

    Come away, servant; come; I am ready now.

    Approach, my Ariel. Come.

  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 curl'd clouds. To thy strong bidding task

    Ariel and all his quality.

  PROSPERO. Hast thou, spirit,

    Perform'd 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 flam'd 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 thunder-claps, 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 play'd

    Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners

    Plung'd 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 leapt; 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 perish'd;

    On their sustaining garments not a blemish,

    But fresher than before; and, as thou bad'st me,

    In troops I have dispers'd 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.

  PROSPERO. Of the King's ship,

    The mariners, say how thou hast dispos'd,

    And all the rest o' th' fleet?

  ARIEL. Safely in harbour

    Is the King's ship; in the deep nook, where once

    Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew

    From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid;

    The mariners all under hatches stowed,

    Who, with a charm join'd to their suff'red labour,

    I have left asleep; and for the rest o' th' fleet,

    Which I dispers'd, they all have met again,

    And are upon the Mediterranean flote

    Bound sadly home for Naples,

    Supposing that they saw the King's ship wreck'd,

    And his great person perish.

  PROSPERO. Ariel, thy charge

    Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work.

    What is the time o' th' day?

  ARIEL. Past the mid season.

  PROSPERO. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now

    Must by us both be spent most preciously.

  ARIEL. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,

    Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,

    Which is not yet perform'd me.

  PROSPERO. How now, moody?

    What is't thou canst demand?

  ARIEL. My liberty.

  PROSPERO. Before the time be out? No more!

  ARIEL. I prithee,

    Remember I have done thee worthy service,

    Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd

    Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst promise

    To bate me a full year.

  PROSPERO. Dost thou forget

    From what a torment I did free thee?

  ARIEL. No.

  PROSPERO. Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze

    Of the salt deep,

    To run upon the sharp wind of the north,

    To do me business in the veins o' th' earth

    When it is bak'd with frost.

  ARIEL. I do not, sir.

  PROSPERO. Thou liest, malignant thing. Hast thou forgot

    The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy

    Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her?

  ARIEL. No, sir.

  PROSPERO. Thou hast. Where was she born?

    Speak; tell me.

  ARIEL. Sir, in Argier.

  PROSPERO. O, was she so? I must

    Once in a month recount what thou hast been,

    Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,

    For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible

    To enter human hearing, from Argier

    Thou know'st was banish'd; for one thing she did

    They would not take her life. Is not this true?

  ARIEL. Ay, sir.

  PROSPERO. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,

    And here was left by th'sailors. Thou, my slave,

    As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant;

    And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate

    To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,

    Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,

    By help of her more potent ministers,

    And in her most unmitigable rage,

    Into a cloven pine; within which rift

    Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain

    A dozen years; within which space she died,

    And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans

    As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island-

    Save for the son that she did litter here,

    A freckl'd whelp, hag-born-not honour'd with

    A human shape.

  ARIEL. Yes, Caliban her son.

  PROSPERO. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban

    Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st

    What torment I did find thee in; thy groans

    Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts

    Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment

    To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax

    Could not again undo. It was mine art,

    When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape

    The pine, and let thee out.

  ARIEL. I thank thee, master.

  PROSPERO. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak

    And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till

    Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

  ARIEL. Pardon, master;

    I will be correspondent to command,

    And do my spriting gently.

  PROSPERO. Do so; and after two days

    I will discharge thee.

  ARIEL. That's my noble master!

    What shall I do? Say what. What shall I do?

  PROSPERO. Go make thyself like a nymph o' th' sea; be subject

    To no sight but thine and mine, invisible

    To every eyeball else. Go take this shape,

    And hither come in 't. Go, hence with diligence!

                                                      Exit ARIEL

    Awake, dear heart, awake; thou hast slept well;

    Awake.

  MIRANDA. The strangeness of your story put

    Heaviness in me.

  PROSPERO. Shake it off. Come on,

    We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never

    Yields us kind answer.

  MIRANDA. 'Tis a villain, sir,

    I do not love to look on.

  PROSPERO. But as 'tis,

    We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,

    Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices

    That profit us. What ho! slave! Caliban!

    Thou earth, thou! Speak.

  CALIBAN. [ Within] There's wood enough within.

  PROSPERO. Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee.

    Come, thou tortoise! when?

    Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

    Hark in thine ear.

  ARIEL. My lord, it shall be done. Exit

  PROSPERO. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself

    Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

  CALIBAN. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd

    With raven's feather from unwholesome fen

    Drop on you both! A south-west blow on ye

    And blister you all o'er!

  PROSPERO. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,

    Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins

    Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,

    All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd

    As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging

    Than bees that made 'em.

  CALIBAN. I must eat my dinner.

    This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,

    Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st first,

    Thou strok'st me and made much of me, wouldst give me

    Water with berries in't, and teach me how

    To name the bigger light, and how the less,

    That burn by day and night; and then I lov'd thee,

    And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle,

    The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.

    Curs'd be I that did so! All the charms

    Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!

    For I am all the subjects that you have,

    Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me

    In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me

    The rest o' th' island.

  PROSPERO. Thou most lying slave,

    Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have us'd thee,

    Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodg'd thee

    In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate

    The honour of my child.

  CALIBAN. O ho, O ho! Would't had been done.

    Thou didst prevent me; I had peopl'd else

    This isle with Calibans.

  MIRANDA. Abhorred slave,

    Which any print of goodness wilt not take,

    Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,

    Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour

    One thing or other. When thou didst not, savage,

    Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like

    A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes

    With words that made them known. But thy vile race,

    Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures

    Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou

    Deservedly confin'd into this rock, who hadst

    Deserv'd more than a prison.

  CALIBAN. You taught me language, and my profit on't

    Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you

    For learning me your language!

  PROSPERO. Hag-seed, hence!

    Fetch us in fuel. And be quick, thou 'rt best,

    To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?

    If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly

    What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps,

    Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar,

    That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

  CALIBAN. No, pray thee.

    [Aside] I must obey. His art is of such pow'r,

    It would control my dam's god, Setebos,

    And make a vassal of him.

  PROSPERO. So, slave; hence! Exit CALIBAN

            Come unto these yellow sands,

              And then take hands;

            Curtsied when you have and kiss'd,

              The wild waves whist,

            Foot it featly here and there,

            And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

              Hark, hark!

            [Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.]

              The watch dogs bark.

            [Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.]

              Hark, hark! I hear

            The strain of strutting chanticleer

              Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

  FERDINAND. Where should this music be? I' th' air or th'

    earth?

    It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon

    Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,

    Weeping again the King my father's wreck,

    This music crept by me upon the waters,

    Allaying both their fury and my passion

    With its sweet air; thence I have follow'd it,

    Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.

    No, it begins again.

         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:

           [Burden: Ding-dong.]

         Hark! now I hear them-Ding-dong bell.

  FERDINAND. The ditty does remember my drown'd father.

    This is no mortal business, nor no sound

    That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.

  PROSPERO. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,

    And say what thou seest yond.

  MIRANDA. What is't? a spirit?

    Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,

    It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.

  PROSPERO. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses

    As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest

    Was in the wreck; and but he's something stain'd

    With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him

    A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows,

    And strays about to find 'em.

  MIRANDA. I might call him

    A thing divine; for nothing natural

    I ever saw so noble.

  PROSPERO. [Aside] It goes on, I see,

    As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee

    Within two days for this.

  FERDINAND. Most sure, the goddess

    On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my pray'r

    May know if you remain upon this island;

    And that you will some good instruction give

    How I may bear me here. My prime request,

    Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!

    If you be maid or no?

  MIRANDA. No wonder, sir;

    But certainly a maid.

  FERDINAND. My language? Heavens!

    I am the best of them that speak this speech,

    Were I but where 'tis spoken.

  PROSPERO. How? the best?

    What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?

  FERDINAND. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders

    To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;

    And that he does I weep. Myself am Naples,

    Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld