The Tempest

Hell is empty and all the devils are here.

We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

Me, poor man, my library Was dukedom large enough.

O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't!

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then 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.

Now I will believe that there are unicorns...

This thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine.

O, brave new world that has such people in't!

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

Let us not burthen our remembrance with A heaviness that's gone.

I would not wish any companion in the world but you.

Good wombs have borne bad sons." -- (Miranda, I:2)

You taught me language, and my profit on't / Is, I know how to curse

I am your wife if you will marry me. If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow You may deny me, but I'll be your servant Whether you will or no.

I long to hear the story of your life, which must captivate the ear strangely.

...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.

At this hour Lie at my mercy all mine enemies.

Watch out he's winding the watch of his wit, by and by it will strike.

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm’d The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds, And ‘twixt the green sea and the azured vault Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire and rifted Jove’s stout oak With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck’d up The pine and cedar: graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let ‘em forth By my so potent art. But this rough magic I here abjure, and, when I have required Some heavenly music, which even now I do, To work mine end upon their senses that This airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I’ll drown my book.

Thou shalt be free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command.

Their manners are more gentle, kind, than of our generation you shall find.

How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, that has such people in it!

Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands. Curtsied when you have and kissed The wild waves whist, Foot is featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Ariel's song, scene II, Act I

This rough magic I here abjure, and, when I have required Some heavenly music, which even now I do, To work mine end upon their senses that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll drown my book.