Queen. I feel my love to Philocles within me, THE TEMPEST. 1667. ARISE, arise! ye subterranean winds, And all ye filthy damps and vapours rise, Which use t' infect the earth, and trouble all the skies; Rise you, from whom devouring plagues have birth: You that i' th' vast and hollow womb of earth Engender earthquakes, make whole countries shake, And stately cities into deserts turn; And you who feed the flames by which earth's entrails burn. Ye raging winds, whose rapid force can make All but the fix'd and solid centre shake, Come drive these wretches to that part o' th' isle Cause fogs and storms, whirlwinds and earthquakes there: Rise and obey the powerful Prince o' th' air. Dry those eyes which are o'erflowing, Every dainty you can think of, Every wine which you would drink of, Ferdinand. This must have more importance than an echo. Some spirit tempts me to a precipice. I'll try if it will answer when I sing My sorrows to the murmur of this brook. Ariel. Ferd. Ariel. He sings. Go thy way. Why shouldst thou stay? sines Why shouldst thou stay? Ferd. Where the winds whistle, and where the streams creep, Ariel. Under yon willow-tree fain would I sleep. For 'tis time to be gone. For 'tis time to be gone. Ferd. What cares or pleasures can be in this isle? Within this desert place, There lives no human race; Fate cannot frown here, nor kind Fortune smile. Ariel. Kind Fortune smiles, and she Has yet in store for thee Some strange felicity. Follow me, follow me, And thou shalt see. Eolus. Come down, my blusterers, swell no more. Your stormy rage give o'er. Let all black tempests cease, And let the troubled ocean rest: Let all the sea enjoy as calm a peace, As where the halcyon builds her quiet nest. are I last To your prisons below, Down, down you must go: You in the earth's entrails But no more till I call shall your revels may keep; TYRANNIC LOVE. 1668 or 1669. Prologue. Poets, like lovers, should be bold and dare, They spoil their business with an over-care. And he who servilely creeps after sense Yet rashness is a better fault than fear. He saw his way; but in so swift a pace, Maximin. Fate's dark recesses we can never find; The lucky have whole days, which still they choose; Placidius. I have consulted one, who reads Heaven's doom, Then, with a moment's thaw, the streams enlarge, He would the ghosts of slaughter'd soldiers call; And loth to enter, shiver'd in the air; These his dread wand did to short life compel, And forc'd the fates of battles to foretel. Max. 'Tis wond'rous strange! But, good Placidius, say, What prophesies Nigrinus of this day? Plac. In a lone tent, all hung with black, I saw Albinus. With a fierce haste he led our troops the way: While fiery show'rs of sulphur on him rain'd; Nor left he, till the battlements he gain'd: With his broad sword the boldest beating down, To make new dooms, or mend what it mistook; Max. This love, that never could my youth engage, Peeps out his coward head to dare my age. Where hast thou been thus long, thou sleeping form, St. Catherine. No happiness can be, where is no rest: Th' unknown, untalk'd-of man is only blest. He, as in some safe cliff, his cell does keep, And when, from far, the tenth wave does appear, Berenice. My earthy part Which is my tyrant's right, death will remove; |