You brother mine, that entertained ambition,
Expell'd remorse* and nature; who, with Sebastian,
(Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,)
Would here have kill'd our king; I do forgive thee,
Unnatural though thou art!-Their understanding
Begins to swell; and the approaching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shores,

That now lie foul and muddy. Not one of them,
That yet looks on me, or would know me.

ARIEL'S SONG.

Where the bee sucks, there suck I:

In a cowslip's bell I lie;

There I couch when owls do cry.

On the bat's back, I do fly,

After summer, merrily:
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

TWELFTH NIGHT.

ACT I

MUSIC.

-

IF Music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again; it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odour.

NATURAL AFFECTION ALLIED TO LOVE.

O, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame,
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft,
Hatu kill'd the flock of all affections else

That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart,
*Pity, or tenderness of heart.

These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd, (Her sweet perfections) with one self king!

ESCAPE FROM DANGER.

I saw your brother,

Most provident in peril, bind himself

(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the wave,
So long as I could see.

A BEAUTIFUL BOY.

Dear lad, believe it;

For they shall yet belie thy happy years
That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip
Is not more smooth, and rubious; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound,
And all is semblative a woman's part.

DETERMINED LOVE.

Oli. Why, what would you?

Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons* of contemned love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night
Holla your name to the reverberate hills,
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth,
But you should pity me.

ACT II.

DISGUISE,

Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant‡ enemy does much.
How easy is it, for the proper-false§
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!

Cantos, verses.

+ Dexterous, ready fiend.

+ Echoing.

§ Fair deceiver.

Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we;
For such as we are made of, such we be.

Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it, remember me:
For, such as I am, all true lovers are;
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
Save, in the constant image of the creature
That is belov'd.

THE WOMAN SHOULD BE YOUNGEST IN LOVE.

Too old, by heaven; Let still the woman take
An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,
Than women's are.

CHARACTER OF AN OLD SONG.

Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain: The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,

Are the free maids, that weave their thread with bones,*

Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth,†
And dallies with the innocence of love,

Like the old age.‡

SONG.

Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it;

My part of death no one so true
Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

On my black coffin let there be strown;

*Lace-makers.

+ Times of simplicity.

+ Simple truth.

CALIBAN'S CURSES.

Cal 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!

Pro. 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 honeycombs, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made them.

Cal. I must eat my dinner.

This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,

Which thou taks't from me. When thou cam❜st first, Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st 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 of the isle,

The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fertile;

Cursed 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 of the island.

CALIBAN'S EXULTATION AFTER PROSPERO TELLS

HIM HE SOUGHT TO VIOLATE THE HONOUR OF
HIS CHILD.

O ho, O ho!-'would it nad been done!
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.

MUSIC.

Where should this music be? i'the air, or the earth, It sounds no more:—and sure, it waits upon

*Faries.

Some god of the 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.

ARIEL'S SONG.

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.

A LOVER'S SPEECH.

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, or this man's threats, To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth Let liberty make use of; space enough Have I in such a prison.

ACT II.

DESCRIPTION OF FERDINAND'S SWIMMING ASHORE.
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke

To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt
He came alive to land.

SLEEP.

Do not omit the heavy offer of it;
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.