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A Storm with Thunder and Lightning.

Enter a Ship-master and a Boatswain.
Master. Boatswain,---
Boats. Here, master : What cheer?

Mast. Good : Speak to the mariners: fall to't yarely, or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. (Exit. VOL. XVII.

I 2

Enter Mariners. Boats. Heigh, my hearts ; cheerly, cheerly, my hearts; yare, yare: Take in the top-sail; Tend to the master’s whistle.-Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough!

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 care 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 shall 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.

[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 hanged, our case is miserable.

[Exeunt.

Re-enter Boatswain. Boats. 'Down with the top-mast; 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.

Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO. 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 ! Boats. Work

you,

then. Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

Gon. I'll warrant him from drowning; though the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as leaky as an unstaunched wench.

Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; set her two courses ; off to sea again, lay her off.

Enter Mariners wet.
Mar. All lost! to prayers, to prayers ! all lost!

[Exeunt. Boats. What, must our mouths be cold? Gon. The king and prince at prayers ! let us assist

them, For our case is as theirs.

Seb. I am out of patience.

Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunk

ards.This wide-chapped rascal ;—’Would, thou might'st lie

drowning, The washing of ten tides !

Gon. He'll be hanged 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 with the king.

[Exit. Seb. Let's take leave of him.

Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground; long heath, brown furze, any thing : The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death.

[Erit.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-- The Island : before the cell of Pros

PERO.

Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA. Mira. 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 suffer'd With those I saw suffer! a brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creatures 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 e'er
It should the good ship so have swallowed, and
The freighting souls within her.

Pro. Be collected;
No more amazement: tell your piteous heart,
There's no harm done.

Mira. O, woe the day !

Pro. No harin.
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.

Mira. More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.

Pro. 'Tis time
I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magick garment from me.-So;

[Lays down his mantle. Lie there my art.-Wipe thou thine eyes; have com

fort. 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 order'd, that there is no soulNo, 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;

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