All of Shakespeare’s plays.
To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely.
Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.
This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd on.
And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they
Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em?
How camest thou in this pickle?
Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?
This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod
And there is in this business more than nature
Was ever conduct of: some oracle
Must rectify our knowledge.
These are not natural events; they strengthen
From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither?
To FERDINAND and MIRANDA Give me your hands:
Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart
That doth not wish you joy!
I say, Amen, Gonzalo!
I am hers:
But, O, how oddly will it sound that I
Must ask my child forgiveness!
What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?
Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours:
Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us,
And brought us thus together?
Now all the blessings
Of a glad father compass thee about!
Arise, and say how thou camest here.
If this prove
A vision of the Island, one dear son
Shall I twice lose.
O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,
The king and queen there! that they were, I wish
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed
Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?
You the like loss!
Irreparable is the loss, and patience
Says it is past her cure.
If thou be'st Prospero,
Give us particulars of thy preservation;
How thou hast met us here, who three hours since
Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost--
How sharp the point of this remembrance is!--
My dear son Ferdinand.
Whether thou best he or no,
Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,
As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse
Beats as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,
The affliction of my mind amends, with which,
I fear, a madness held me: this must ...
O, it is monstrous, monstrous:
Methought the billows spoke and told me of it;
The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced
The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.
Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded, and
I will stand to and feed,
Although my last: no matter, since I feel
The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke,
Stand to and do as we.
I cannot too much muse
Such shapes, such gesture and such sound, expressing,
Although they want the use of tongue, a kind
Of excellent dumb discourse.
Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?
What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!
Old lord, I cannot blame thee,
Who am myself attach'd with weariness,
To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest.
Even here I will put off my hope and keep it
No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd
Whom thus we stray to find, and ...
Lead off this ground; and let's make further search
For my poor son.
Heard you this, Gonzalo?
I heard nothing.
Why, how now? ho, awake! Why are you drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking?
Thank you. Wondrous heavy.
What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find
They are inclined to do so.
Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.
So is the dear'st o' the loss.
No, no, he's gone.
You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy removed
I ne'er again shall see her. O thou ...
I prithee, spare.
Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master?
Play the men.
An open source tool for making transcripts really easy to read, search and share on the modern web
Your donations keep this site and others like it running
A Poplus component
mySociety is a registered charity in England and Wales (1076346) and a limited company (03277032). We provide commercial
services through our wholly owned subsidiary