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Rh Iuno ſings ber bleſſings on you. Earths increaſe, foyzon plentie, Barnes, and Garners, neuer empty. Vines, with cluſtring bunches growing, Plants, with goodly burthen bowing: Spring come to you at the fartheſt, In the very end of Harueſt. Scarcity and want ſhall ſhun you, Ceres bleſſing ſo is on you.

Fer. This is a moſt maieſticke viſion, and Harmonious charmingly: may I be bold To thinke theſe ſpirits?

Pro. Spirits, which by mine Art I haue from their confines call’d to enact My preſent fancies.

Fer. Let me liue here euer, So rare a wondred Father, and a wiſe Makes this place Paradiſe.

Pro. Sweet now, ſilence: Iuno, and Ceres whiſper ſeriouſly, There's ſomething elſe to doe: huſh, and be mute Or elſe our ſpell is mar'd.

Iris. You Nimphs cald Nayades of windring brooks, With your ſedg'd crownes, and euer-harmeleſſe lookes, Leave your criſpe channels, and on this greene-Land Anſwere your ſummons, Iuno do's command. Come temperate Nimphes, and helpe to celebrate A Contract of true Loue: be not too late.

You Sun-burn'd Sicklemen of Auguſt weary, Come hether from the furrow, and be merry, Make holly day: your Rye-ftraw hats put on, And theſe freſh Nimphes encounter euery one in Country footing. Enter certaine Reapers (properly habited:) they ioyne with the Nimphes, in a gracefull dance, towards the end where- of, Prospero ſtarts ſodainly and ſpeakes, after which to a ſtrange hollow and confuſed noyſe, they heauily vaniſh. Pro. I had forgot that foule conſpiracy Of the beaſt Calliban, and his confederates Againſt my life: the minute of their plot Is almoſt come: Well done, auoid: no more.

Fer. This is ſtrange: your fathers in ſome paſſion That workes him ſtrongly.

Mir. Neuer till this day Saw I him touch'd with anger, ſo diſtemper'd.

Pro. You doe looke (my ſon) in a mou'd ſort, As if you were diſmaid: be cheerefull Sir, Our Reuels now are ended: Theſe our actors, (As I foretold you) were all Spirits, and Are melted into Ayre, into thin Ayre, And like the baſeleſſe fabricke of this vifion The Clowd-capt Towres, the gorgeous Pallaces, The ſolemne Temples, the great Globe it ſelfe, Yes, all which it inherit, ſhall diffolue, And like this inſubſtantiall Pageant faded Leaue not a racke bebinde: we are ſuch ſtuffe As dreames are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a ſleepe: Sir, I am vext, Beare with my weakeneſſe, my old braine is troubled: Be not diſturb'd with my infirmitie, If you be pleas'd, retire into my Cell, And there repoſe, a turne or two, Ile walke To ſtill my beating minde.

Fer. Mir. We wiſh your peace.

Pro. Come with a thought; I thank thee Ariell: come. Enter Ariell. Ar. Thy thoughts I cleaue to, what's thy pleaſure?

Pro. Spirit: We muſt prepare to meet with Caliban.

Ar. I my Commander, when I preſented Ceres I thought to haue told thee of it, but I fear'd Leaſt I might anger thee.

Pro. Say again, where didſt thou leaue theſe varlots?

Ar. I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking, So full of valour, that they ſmote the ayre For breathing in their faces: beate the ground For kiſſing of their feete; yet alwaies bending Towards their proiect: then I beate my Tabor, At which like ynback’t colts they prickt their eares, Aduanc'd their eye-lids, lifted vp their noſes As they ſmelt muſicke, ſo I charm'd their eares That Calfe-like, they my lowing follow'd, through Tooth'd briars, ſharpe firzes, pricking goſſe, & thorns, Which entred their fraile ſhins: at laſt I left them I'th' filthy mantled poole beyond your Cell, There dancing vp to th'chins, that the fowle Lake Ore-ſtunck their feet.

Pro. This was well done (my bird) Thy ſhape inuiſible retaine thou ſtill: The trumpery in my houſe, goe bring it hither For ſtale to catch theſe theeues.Ar. I go, I goe.

Pro. A Deuill, a borne-Deuill, on whoſe nature Nurture can neuer ſticke: on whom my paines Humanely taken, all, all loſt, quite loſt, And, as with age, his body ouglier growes, So his minde cankers: I will plague them all, Euen to roaring: Come, hang on them this line.

Cal. Pray you tread ſoftly, that the blinde Mole may not heare a foot fall: we now are neere his Cell.

St. Monſter, your Fairy, you ſay is a harmles Fairy, Has done little better then plaid the Iacke with vs.

Trin. Monſter, I do ſmell all horſe-piſſe, at which My noſe is in great indignation.

Ste. So is mine. Do you heare Monſter: If I ſhould Take a diſpleaſure againſt you: Looke you.

Trin. Thou wert but a loſt Monſter.

Cal. Good my Lord, giue me thy fauour ſtil, Be patient, for the prize Ile bring thee too Shall hudwinke this miſchance: therefore ſpeake ſoftly, All's huſht as midnight yet.

Trin. I, but to looſe our bottles in the Poole.

Ste. There is not onely diſgrace and diſhonor in that Monſter, but an infinite loſſe.

Tr. That's more to me then my wetting: Yet this is your harmleſſe Fairy, Monſter.

Ste. I will fetch off my bottle, Though I be o're eares for my labour.

Cal. Pre-thee (my King) be quiet. Seeſt thou heere This is the mouth o'th Cell: no noiſe, and enter: Do that good miſcheefe, which may make this Iſland Thine owne for euer, and I thy Caliban For aye thy foot-licker.

Ste. Give me thy hand, I do begin to haue bloody thoughts.

Trin. O King Stephano, O Peere: O worthy Stephano, Looke what a wardrobe heere is for thee.

Cal. Let it alone thou foole, it is but traſh.

Tri. Oh, ho, Monſter: wee know what belongs to a frippery, O King Stephano. Ste. Put