The Tempest- Key Speeches

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  • Created on: 10-04-13 20:24

Trinculo meets Caliban 2:2 p.81

What have

we here? A man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish:

he smells like a fish. A very ancient fish-like

smell. A kind of, not of the newest Poor-John. A

strange fish. Were I in England now, as once I was,

and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool

there would give a piece of silver. There

would make this monster a man. Any strange beast

there makes a man.

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Be not afeard 3:2 p. 115

Be not afeard, the isle is full of noises,

Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurtnot.

Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments

Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,

That if I had waked after long sleep,

Will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming,

The clouds methought would open, and show riches

Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked,

I cried to dream again.

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You are three men of sin 3:3 p. 121

You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,

That hath to instrument this lower world

And what is in't, the never-surfeited sea

Has caused to belch up you, and on this island

Where man doth not inhabit, you 'mongst men

Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad;

And even with such-like valour men hang, and drown

Their proper selves.

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Our revels now are ended 4:1 p.143

  • You do look, my  son, in a moved sort,
  • Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
  • As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
  • Are melted into air, into thin air;
  • And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
  • The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
  • The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
  • Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
  • And like this insubstantial pagent faded,
  • Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
  • As dreams are made on, and our little life
  • Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vexed;
  • Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled.
  • Be not disturbed by my infirmity.
  • If you be pleased, retire to my cell,
  • And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk
  • To still my beating mind.
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Epilogue p.181

  • Now my charms are o-erthrown,
  • And what strength I have's mine own,
  • Which is most faint. Now, 'tis true
  • I must be here confined by you,
  • Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
  • Since I have my dukedom got,
  • And pardoned the deceiver, dwell
  • In this bare island by your spell;
  • But release me from my bonds
  • With the help of your good hands.
  • Gentle breath of yours my sails
  • Must fill, or else my project fails,
  • Which was to please. Now I want
  • Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
  • And my ending is despair,
  • Unless I be relieved by prayer,
  • Which pierces so, that it assults
  • Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
  • As you from crimes would pardoned be,
  • Let your indulgence set me free.
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