feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/sparknotes/The Tempest/section_3_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Tempest.act ii.scene i
feat_summary_id: act ii, scene i
feat_summary: {"name": "Act II, scene i", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210131162607/https://www.sparknotes.com/shakespeare/tempest/section4/", "summary": "While Ferdinand is falling in love with Miranda, Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, and other shipwrecked lords search for him on another part of the island. Alonso is quite despondent and unreceptive to the good-natured Gonzalo's attempts to cheer him up. Gonzalo meets resistance from Antonio and Sebastian as well. These two childishly mock Gonzalo's suggestion that the island is a good place to be and that they are all lucky to have survived. Alonso finally brings the repartee to a halt when he bursts out at Gonzalo and openly expresses regret at having married away his daughter in Tunis. Francisco, a minor lord, pipes up at this point that he saw Ferdinand swimming valiantly after the wreck, but this does not comfort Alonso. Sebastian and Antonio continue to provide little help. Sebastian tells his brother that he is indeed to blame for Ferdinand's death--if he had not married his daughter to an African , none of this would have happened. Gonzalo tells the lords that they are only making the situation worse and attempts to change the subject, discussing what he might do if he were the lord of the island. Antonio and Sebastian mock his utopian vision. Ariel then enters, playing \"solemn music\" , and gradually all but Sebastian and Antonio fall asleep. Seeing the vulnerability of his sleeping companions, Antonio tries to persuade Sebastian to kill his brother. He rationalizes this scheme by explaining that Claribel, who is now Queen of Tunis, is too far from Naples to inherit the kingdom should her father die, and as a result, Sebastian would be the heir to the throne. Sebastian begins to warm to the idea, especially after Antonio tells him that usurping Prospero's dukedom was the best move he ever made. Sebastian wonders aloud whether he will be afflicted by conscience, but Antonio dismisses this out of hand. Sebastian is at last convinced, and the two men draw their swords. Sebastian, however, seems to have second thoughts at the last moment and stops. While he and Antonio confer, Ariel enters with music, singing in Gonzalo's ear that a conspiracy is under way and that he should \"Awake, awake!\" . Gonzalo wakes and shouts \"Preserve the King!\" His exclamation wakes everyone else . Sebastian quickly concocts a story about hearing a loud noise that caused him and Antonio to draw their swords. Gonzalo is obviously suspicious but does not challenge the lords. The group continues its search for Ferdinand.", "analysis": "Analysis As in the storm scene in Act I, scene i, Shakespeare emphasizes and undercuts the capacity of the bare stage to create a convincing illusion throughout Act II, scene i. As the shipwrecked mariners look around the island, they describe it in poetry of great imagistic richness, giving the audience an imaginary picture of the setting of the play. Even so, they disagree about what they see, and even argue over what the island actually looks like. Adrian finds it to be of \"subtle, tender, and delicate temperance,\" where \"the air breathes upon us . . . most sweetly\" . Gonzalo says that the grass is \"lush and lusty\" and \"green\" . Antonio and Sebastian, however, cynical to the last, refuse to let these descriptions rest in the audience's mind. They say that the air smells \"as 'twere perfumed by a fen\" , meaning a swamp, and that the ground \"indeed is tawny\" , or brown. The remarks of Antonio and Sebastian could be easily discounted as mere grumpiness, were it not for the fact that Gonzalo and Adrian do seem at times to be stretching the truth. .) Thus the bareness of the stage allows the beauty and other qualities of the island to be largely a matter of perspective. The island may be a paradise, but only if one chooses to see it that way. Shakespeare uses this ambiguous setting for several different purposes. First, the setting heightens the sense of wonder and mystery that surrounds the magical island. It also gives each audience member a great deal of freedom to imagine the island as he or she so chooses. Most importantly, however, it enables the island to work as a reflection of character--we know a great deal about different characters simply from how they choose to see the island. Hence the dark, sensitive Caliban can find it both a place of terror--as when he enters, frightened and overworked in Act II, scene ii--and of great beauty--as in his \"the isle is full of noises\" speech . Therefore, both Gonzalo  and Trinculo , colonially minded, are so easily able to imagine it as the site of their own utopian societies. Gonzalo's fantasy about the plantation he would like to build on the island is a remarkable poetic evocation of a utopian society, in which no one would work, all people would be equal and live off the land, and all women would be \"innocent and pure.\" This vision indicates something of Gonzalo's own innocence and purity. Shakespeare treats the old man's idea of the island as a kind of lovely dream, in which the frustrations and obstructions of life  would be removed and all could live naturally and authentically. Though Gonzalo's idea is not presented as a practical possibility , Gonzalo's dream contrasts to his credit with the power-obsessed ideas of most of the other characters, including Prospero. Gonzalo would do away with the very master-servant motif that lies at the heart of The Tempest. The mockery dished out by Antonio and Sebastian reveals, by contrast, something of the noblemen's cynicism and lack of feeling. Where Gonzalo is simply grateful and optimistic about having survived the shipwreck, Antonio and Sebastian seem mainly to be annoyed by it, though not so annoyed that they stop their incessant jesting with each other. Gonzalo says that they are simply loudmouthed jokers, who \"would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing\" . By conspiring against the king, however, they reveal themselves as more sinister and greedier than Gonzalo recognizes, using their verbal wit to cover up their darker and more wicked impulses. However, their greediness for power is both foolish and clumsy. As they attempt to cover their treachery with the story of the \"bellowing / Like bulls, or rather lions\" , it seems hard to believe that Antonio ever could have risen successfully against his brother. The absurdly aggressive behavior of Antonio and Sebastian makes Prospero's exercise of power in the previous and following scenes seem necessary. It also puts Alonso in a sympathetic position. He is a potential victim of the duo's treachery, a fact that helps the audience believe his conversion when he reconciles with Prospero at the end."}
text: ACT II. SCENE I.
  
  _Another part of the island._
  
    _Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO,
    and others._
  
  _Gon._ Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,
  So have we all, of joy; for our escape
  Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe
  Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
  The masters of some merchant, and the merchant,                      5
  Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,
  I mean our preservation, few in millions
  Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
  Our sorrow with our comfort.
  
  _Alon._                    Prithee, peace.
  
  _Seb._ He receives comfort like cold porridge.                      10
  
  _Ant._ The visitor will not give him o'er so.
  
  _Seb._ Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by
  and by it will strike.
  
  _Gon._ Sir,--
  
  _Seb._ One: tell.                                                   15
  
  _Gon._ When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd,
  Comes to the entertainer--
  
  _Seb._ A dollar.
  
  _Gon._ Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken
  truer than you purposed.                                            20
  
  _Seb._ You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.
  
  _Gon._ Therefore, my lord,--
  
  _Ant._ Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
  
  _Alon._ I prithee, spare.
  
  _Gon._ Well, I have done: but yet,--                                25
  
  _Seb._ He will be talking.
  
  _Ant._ Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first
  begins to crow?
  
  _Seb._ The old cock.
  
  _Ant._ The cockerel.                                                30
  
  _Seb._ Done. The wager?
  
  _Ant._ A laughter.
  
  _Seb._ A match!
  
  _Adr._ Though this island seem to be desert,--
  
  _Seb._ Ha, ha, ha!--So, you're paid.                                35
  
  _Adr._ Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,--
  
  _Seb._ Yet,--
  
  _Adr._ Yet,--
  
  _Ant._ He could not miss't.
  
  _Adr._ It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate              40
  temperance.
  
  _Ant._ Temperance was a delicate wench.
  
  _Seb._ Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.
  
  _Adr._ The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
  
  _Seb._ As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.                         45
  
  _Ant._ Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.
  
  _Gon._ Here is every thing advantageous to life.
  
  _Ant._ True; save means to live.
  
  _Seb._ Of that there's none, or little.
  
  _Gon._ How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!               50
  
  _Ant._ The ground, indeed, is tawny.
  
  _Seb._ With an eye of green in't.
  
  _Ant._ He misses not much.
  
  _Seb._ No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.
  
  _Gon._ But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost             55
  beyond credit,--
  
  _Seb._ As many vouched rarities are.
  
  _Gon._ That our garments, being, as they were, drenched
  in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and glosses,
  being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water.                 60
  
  _Ant._ If but one of his pockets could speak, would it
  not say he lies?
  
  _Seb._ Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.
  
  _Gon._ Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when
  we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's        65
  fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.
  
  _Seb._ 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in
  our return.
  
  _Adr._ Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon
  to their queen.                                                     70
  
  _Gon._ Not since widow Dido's time.
  
  _Ant._ Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow
  in? widow Dido!
  
  _Seb._ What if he had said 'widower Aeneas' too? Good
  Lord, how you take it!                                              75
  
  _Adr._ 'Widow Dido' said you? you make me study of
  that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.
  
  _Gon._ This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.
  
  _Adr._ Carthage?
  
  _Gon._ I assure you, Carthage.                                      80
  
  _Seb._ His word is more than the miraculous harp; he
  hath raised the wall, and houses too.
  
  _Ant._ What impossible matter will he make easy next?
  
  _Seb._ I think he will carry this island home in his
  pocket, and give it his son for an apple.                           85
  
  _Ant._ And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring
  forth more islands.
  
  _Gon._ Ay.
  
  _Ant._ Why, in good time.
  
  _Gon._ Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now              90
  as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your
  daughter, who is now queen.
  
  _Ant._ And the rarest that e'er came there.
  
  _Seb._ Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
  
  _Ant._ O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.                               95
  
  _Gon._ Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I
  wore it? I mean, in a sort.
  
  _Ant._ That sort was well fished for.
  
  _Gon._ When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?
  
  _Alon._ You cram these words into mine ears against                100
  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 mine heir                      105
  Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
  Hath made his meal on thee?
  
  _Fran._                   Sir, he may live:
  I saw him beat the surges under him,
  And ride upon their backs; he trod the water.
  Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted                          110
  The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head
  'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
  Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
  To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
  As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt                            115
  He came alive to land.
  
  _Alon._              No, no, he's gone.
  
  _Seb._ Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,
  That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,
  But rather lose her to an African;
  Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye,                    120
  Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.
  
  _Alon._                             Prithee, peace.
  
  _Seb._ You were kneel'd to, and importuned otherwise,
  By all of us; and the fair soul herself
  Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at
  Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost your son,           125
  I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have
  More widows in them of this business' making
  Than we bring men to comfort them:
  The fault's your own.
  
  _Alon._             So is the dear'st o' the loss.
  
  _Gon._ My lord Sebastian,                                          130
  The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
  And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,
  When you should bring the plaster.
  
  _Seb._                           Very well.
  
  _Ant._ And most chirurgeonly.
  
  _Gon._ It is foul weather in us all, good sir,                     135
  When you are cloudy.
  
  _Seb._             Foul weather?
  
  _Ant._                         Very foul.
  
  _Gon._ Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,--
  
  _Ant._ He'ld sow't with nettle-seed.
  
  _Seb._                             Or docks, or mallows.
  
  _Gon._ And were the king on't, what would I do?
  
  _Seb._ 'Scape being drunk for want of wine.                        140
  
  _Gon._ I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
  Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
  Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
  Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
  And use of service, none; contract, succession,                    145
  Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
  No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;
  No occupation; all men idle, all;
  And women too, but innocent and pure;
  No sovereignty;--                                                  150
  
  _Seb._      Yet he would be king on't.
  
  _Ant._ The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the
  beginning.
  
  _Gon._ All things in common nature should produce
  Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,
  Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,                    155
  Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
  Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,
  To feed my innocent people.
  
  _Seb._ No marrying 'mong his subjects?
  
  _Ant._ None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.                     160
  
  _Gon._ I would with such perfection govern, sir,
  To excel the golden age.
  
  _Seb._                 'Save his majesty!
  
  _Ant._ Long live Gonzalo!
  
  _Gon._                  And,--do you mark me, sir?
  
  _Alon._ Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.
  
  _Gon._ I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister     165
  occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible
  and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.
  
  _Ant._ 'Twas you we laughed at.
  
  _Gon._ Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to
  you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.              170
  
  _Ant._ What a blow was there given!
  
  _Seb._ An it had not fallen flat-long.
  
  _Gon._ You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would
  lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it
  five weeks without changing.                                       175
  
  
    _Enter ARIEL (invisible) playing solemn music._
  
  _Seb._ We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.
  
  _Ant._ Nay, good my lord, be not angry.
  
  _Gon._ No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion
  so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very
  heavy?                                                             180
  
  _Ant._ Go sleep, and hear us.
              [_All sleep except Alon., Seb., and Ant._
  
  _Alon._ What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
  Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find
  They are inclined to do so.
  
  _Seb._                    Please you, sir,
  Do not omit the heavy offer of it:                                 185
  It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
  It is a comforter.
  
  _Ant._           We two, my lord,
  Will guard your person while you take your rest,
  And watch your safety.
  
  _Alon._              Thank you.--Wondrous heavy.
                                  [_Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel._
  
  _Seb._ What a strange drowsiness possesses them!                   190
  
  _Ant._ It is the quality o' the climate.
  
  _Seb._                                 Why
  Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
  Myself disposed to sleep.
  
  _Ant._                  Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
  They fell together all, as by consent;
  They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,                  195
  Worthy Sebastian?--O, what might?--No more:--
  And yet methinks I see it in thy face,
  What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee; and
  My strong imagination sees a crown
  Dropping upon thy head.
  
  _Seb._                What, art thou waking?                       200
  
  _Ant._ Do you not hear me speak?
  
  _Seb._                         I do; and surely
  It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st
  Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?
  This is a strange repose, to be asleep
  With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,                   205
  And yet so fast asleep.
  
  _Ant._                Noble Sebastian,
  Thou let'st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink'st
  Whiles thou art waking.
  
  _Seb._                Thou dost snore distinctly;
  There's meaning in thy snores.
  
  _Ant._ I am more serious than my custom: you                       210
  Must be so too, if heed me; which to do
  Trebles thee o'er.
  
  _Seb._           Well, I am standing water.
  
  _Ant._ I'll teach you how to flow.
  
  _Seb._                           Do so: to ebb
  Hereditary sloth instructs me.
  
  _Ant._                       O,
  If you but knew how you the purpose cherish                        215
  Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
  You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
  Most often do so near the bottom run
  By their own fear or sloth.
  
  _Seb._                    Prithee, say on:
  The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim                        220
  A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
  Which throes thee much to yield.
  
  _Ant._                         Thus, sir:
  Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,
  Who shall be of as little memory
  When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuaded,--                  225
  For he's a spirit of persuasion, only
  Professes to persuade,--the king his son's alive,
  'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd
  As he that sleeps here swims.
  
  _Seb._                      I have no hope
  That he's undrown'd.
  
  _Ant._             O, out of that 'no hope'                        230
  What great hope have you! no hope that way is
  Another way so high a hope that even
  Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
  But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me
  That Ferdinand is drown'd?
  
  _Seb._                   He's gone.
  
  _Ant._                            Then, tell me,                   235
  Who's the next heir of Naples?
  
  _Seb._                       Claribel.
  
  _Ant._ She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells
  Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples
  Can have no note, unless the sun were post,--
  The man i' the moon's too slow,--till new-born chins               240
  Be rough and razorable; she that from whom
  We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again,
  And by that destiny, to perform an act
  Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come,
  In yours and my discharge.
  
  _Seb._                   What stuff is this! How say you?          245
  'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis;
  So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions
  There is some space.
  
  _Ant._             A space whose every cubit
  Seems to cry out, "How shall that Claribel
  Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,                          250
  And let Sebastian wake." Say, this were death
  That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse
  Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples
  As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate
  As amply and unnecessarily                                         255
  As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
  A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
  The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
  For your advancement! Do you understand me?
  
  _Seb._ Methinks I do.
  
  _Ant._              And how does your content                      260
  Tender your own good fortune?
  
  _Seb._                      I remember
  You did supplant your brother Prospero.
  
  _Ant._                                True:
  And look how well my garments sit upon me;
  Much feater than before: my brother's servants
  Were then my fellows; now they are my men.                         265
  
  _Seb._ But for your conscience.
  
  _Ant._ Ay, sir; where lies that? if 'twere a kibe,
  'Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not
  This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
  That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they,                   270
  And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother,
  No better than the earth he lies upon,
  If he were that which now he's like, that's dead;
  Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,
  Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,                   275
  To the perpetual wink for aye might put
  This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who
  Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
  They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;
  They'll tell the clock to any business that                        280
  We say befits the hour.
  
  _Seb._                Thy case, dear friend,
  Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan,
  I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
  Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;
  And I the king shall love thee.
  
  _Ant._                        Draw together;                       285
  And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
  To fall it on Gonzalo.
  
  _Seb._               O, but one word.      [_They talk apart._
  
    _Re-enter ARIEL invisible._
  
  _Ari._ My master through his art foresees the danger
  That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth,--
  For else his project dies,--to keep them living.                   290
                              [_Sings in Gonzalo's ear._
  
  While you here do snoring lie,
  Open-eyed conspiracy
      His time doth take.
  If of life you keep a care,
  Shake off slumber, and beware:                                     295
      Awake, awake!
  
  _Ant._ Then let us both be sudden.
  
  _Gon._                           Now, good angels
  Preserve the king!                          [_They wake._
  
  _Alon._ Why, how now? ho, awake!--Why are you drawn?
  Wherefore this ghastly looking?
  
  _Gon._                        What's the matter?                   300
  
  _Seb._ Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
  Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
  Like bulls, or rather lions: did't not wake you?
  It struck mine ear most terribly.
  
  _Alon._                         I heard nothing.
  
  _Ant._ O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear,                   305
  To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar
  Of a whole herd of lions.
  
  _Alon._                 Heard you this, Gonzalo?
  
  _Gon._ Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
  And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
  I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd,                 310
  I saw their weapons drawn:--there was a noise,
  That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard,
  Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.
  
  _Alon._ Lead off this ground; and let's make further search
  For my poor son.
  
  _Gon._         Heavens keep him from these beasts!                 315
  For he is, sure, i' th' island.
  
  _Alon._                       Lead away.
  
  _Ari._ Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:
  So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.    [_Exeunt._
  
  
    Notes: II, 1.
  
    3: _hint_] _stint_ Warburton.
    5: _masters_] _master_ Johnson. _mistress_ Steevens conj.
      _master's_ Edd. conj.
    6: _of woe_] om. Steevens conj.
    11-99: Marked as interpolated by Pope.
    11: _visitor_] _'viser_ Warburton.
    _him_] om. Rowe.
    15: _one_] F1. _on_ F2 F3 F4.
    16: _entertain'd ... Comes_] Capell. _entertain'd, That's offer'd
      comes_] Ff. Printed as prose by Pope.
    27: _of he_] Ff. _of them, he_ Pope. _or he_ Collier MS.
      See note (VII).
    35: Seb. _Ha, ha, ha!--So you're paid_] Theobald. Seb. _Ha, ha, ha!_
      Ant. _So you'r paid_ Ff. Ant. _So you've paid_ Capell.
    81, 82: Seb. _His ... too_] Edd. Ant. _His ... harp._
      Seb. _He ... too_ Ff.
    88: _Ay._] I. Ff. _Ay?_ Pope.
    96: _sir, my doublet_] F1. _my doublet, sir_ F2 F3 F4.
    113: _stroke_] F1 F2 F3. _strokes_ F4.
    124: _Weigh'd_] _Sway'd_ S. Verges conj.
    _at_] _as_ Collier MS.]
    125: _o' the_] _the_ Pope.
    _should_] _she'd_ Malone.
    129: _The fault's your own_] _the fault's your own_ (at the end
      of 128) Capell. _the fault's Your own_ Malone.
    137: _plantation_] _the plantation_ Rowe. _the planting_ Hanmer.
    139: _on't_] _of it_ Hanmer.
    144: _riches, poverty_] _wealth, poverty_ Pope. _poverty, riches_
      Capell.
    145: _contract, succession_] _succession, Contract_ Malone conj.
      _succession, None_ id. conj.
    146: _none_] _olives, none_ Hanmer.
    157: _its_] F3 F4. _it_ F1 F2. See note (VIII).
    162: _'Save_] F1 F2 F3. _Save_ F4. _God save_ Edd. conj.
    175: Enter ... invisible ... music.] Malone. Enter Ariel, playing
      solemn music. Ff. om. Pope. [Solemn music. Capell.
    181: [All sleep ... Ant.] Stage direction to the same effect,
      first inserted by Capell.
    182-189: Text as in Pope. In Ff. the lines begin _Would ... I find
      ... Do not ... It seldom ... We two ... While ... Thank._
    189: [Exit Ariel] Malone.
    192: _find not_ Pope. _find Not_ Ff.
    211: _so too, if heed_] _so too, if you heed_ Rowe.
      _so, if you heed_ Pope.
    212: _Trebles thee o'er_] _Troubles thee o'er_ Pope.
      _Troubles thee not_ Hanmer.
    222: _throes_] Pope. _throwes_ F1 F2 F3. _throws_ F4.
    _Thus, sir_] _Why then thus Sir_ Hanmer.
    226: _he's_] _he'as_ Hanmer. _he_ Johnson conj.
    227: _Professes to persuade_] om. Steevens.
    234: _doubt_] _drops_ Hanmer. _doubts_ Capell.
    241: _she that from whom_] Ff. _she from whom_ Rowe.
      _she for whom_ Pope. _she from whom coming_ Singer.
      _she that--from whom?_ Spedding conj. See note (IX).
    242: _all_] om. Pope.
    243: _And ... to perform_] _May ... perform_ Pope. _And by that
      destin'd to perform_ Musgrave conj. _(And that by destiny)
      to perform_ Staunton conj.
    244: _is_] F1. _in_ F2 F3 F4.
    245: _In_] _Is_ Pope.
    250: _to_] F1. _by_ F2 F3 F4.
    _Keep_] _Sleep_ Johnson conj.
    251: See note (X).
    267: _'twere_] _it were_ Singer.
    267-271: Pope ends the lines with _that? ... slipper ... bosom ...
      Milan ... molest ... brother._
    267: See note (XI).
    269: _twenty_] _Ten_ Pope.
    270: _stand_] _stood_ Hanmer.
    _candied_] _Discandy'd_ Upton conj.
    271: _And melt_] _Would melt_ Johnson conj. _Or melt_ id. conj.
    273, 274: _like, that's dead; Whom I, with_] _like, whom I With_
      Steevens (Farmer conj.).
    275: _whiles_] om. Pope.
    277: _morsel_] _Moral_ Warburton.
    280, 281: _business ... hour._] _hour ... business._ Farmer conj.
    282: _precedent_] Pope. _president_ Ff.
    _O_] om. Pope.
    [They talk apart] Capell.
    Re-enter Ariel invisible.] Capell. Enter Ariel with music and
      song. Ff.
    289: _you, his friend,_] _these, his friends_ Steevens
      (Johnson conj.).
    289, 290: _friend ... project dies ... them_] _friend ... projects
      dies ... you_ Hanmer. _friend ... projects die ... them_
      Malone conj. _friend ... project dies ... thee_ Dyce.
    298: [They wake.] Rowe.
    300: _this_] _thus_ Collier MS.
    307: _Gonzalo_] om. Pope.
    312: _verily_] _verity_ Pope.
    _upon our guard_] _on guard_ Pope.
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Act II, scene i
target: While Ferdinand is falling in love with Miranda, Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, and other shipwrecked lords search for him on another part of the island. Alonso is quite despondent and unreceptive to the good-natured Gonzalo's attempts to cheer him up. Gonzalo meets resistance from Antonio and Sebastian as well. These two childishly mock Gonzalo's suggestion that the island is a good place to be and that they are all lucky to have survived. Alonso finally brings the repartee to a halt when he bursts out at Gonzalo and openly expresses regret at having married away his daughter in Tunis. Francisco, a minor lord, pipes up at this point that he saw Ferdinand swimming valiantly after the wreck, but this does not comfort Alonso. Sebastian and Antonio continue to provide little help. Sebastian tells his brother that he is indeed to blame for Ferdinand's death--if he had not married his daughter to an African , none of this would have happened. Gonzalo tells the lords that they are only making the situation worse and attempts to change the subject, discussing what he might do if he were the lord of the island. Antonio and Sebastian mock his utopian vision. Ariel then enters, playing "solemn music" , and gradually all but Sebastian and Antonio fall asleep. Seeing the vulnerability of his sleeping companions, Antonio tries to persuade Sebastian to kill his brother. He rationalizes this scheme by explaining that Claribel, who is now Queen of Tunis, is too far from Naples to inherit the kingdom should her father die, and as a result, Sebastian would be the heir to the throne. Sebastian begins to warm to the idea, especially after Antonio tells him that usurping Prospero's dukedom was the best move he ever made. Sebastian wonders aloud whether he will be afflicted by conscience, but Antonio dismisses this out of hand. Sebastian is at last convinced, and the two men draw their swords. Sebastian, however, seems to have second thoughts at the last moment and stops. While he and Antonio confer, Ariel enters with music, singing in Gonzalo's ear that a conspiracy is under way and that he should "Awake, awake!" . Gonzalo wakes and shouts "Preserve the King!" His exclamation wakes everyone else . Sebastian quickly concocts a story about hearing a loud noise that caused him and Antonio to draw their swords. Gonzalo is obviously suspicious but does not challenge the lords. The group continues its search for Ferdinand.
feat_summary_analysis: Analysis As in the storm scene in Act I, scene i, Shakespeare emphasizes and undercuts the capacity of the bare stage to create a convincing illusion throughout Act II, scene i. As the shipwrecked mariners look around the island, they describe it in poetry of great imagistic richness, giving the audience an imaginary picture of the setting of the play. Even so, they disagree about what they see, and even argue over what the island actually looks like. Adrian finds it to be of "subtle, tender, and delicate temperance," where "the air breathes upon us . . . most sweetly" . Gonzalo says that the grass is "lush and lusty" and "green" . Antonio and Sebastian, however, cynical to the last, refuse to let these descriptions rest in the audience's mind. They say that the air smells "as 'twere perfumed by a fen" , meaning a swamp, and that the ground "indeed is tawny" , or brown. The remarks of Antonio and Sebastian could be easily discounted as mere grumpiness, were it not for the fact that Gonzalo and Adrian do seem at times to be stretching the truth. .) Thus the bareness of the stage allows the beauty and other qualities of the island to be largely a matter of perspective. The island may be a paradise, but only if one chooses to see it that way. Shakespeare uses this ambiguous setting for several different purposes. First, the setting heightens the sense of wonder and mystery that surrounds the magical island. It also gives each audience member a great deal of freedom to imagine the island as he or she so chooses. Most importantly, however, it enables the island to work as a reflection of character--we know a great deal about different characters simply from how they choose to see the island. Hence the dark, sensitive Caliban can find it both a place of terror--as when he enters, frightened and overworked in Act II, scene ii--and of great beauty--as in his "the isle is full of noises" speech . Therefore, both Gonzalo  and Trinculo , colonially minded, are so easily able to imagine it as the site of their own utopian societies. Gonzalo's fantasy about the plantation he would like to build on the island is a remarkable poetic evocation of a utopian society, in which no one would work, all people would be equal and live off the land, and all women would be "innocent and pure." This vision indicates something of Gonzalo's own innocence and purity. Shakespeare treats the old man's idea of the island as a kind of lovely dream, in which the frustrations and obstructions of life  would be removed and all could live naturally and authentically. Though Gonzalo's idea is not presented as a practical possibility , Gonzalo's dream contrasts to his credit with the power-obsessed ideas of most of the other characters, including Prospero. Gonzalo would do away with the very master-servant motif that lies at the heart of The Tempest. The mockery dished out by Antonio and Sebastian reveals, by contrast, something of the noblemen's cynicism and lack of feeling. Where Gonzalo is simply grateful and optimistic about having survived the shipwreck, Antonio and Sebastian seem mainly to be annoyed by it, though not so annoyed that they stop their incessant jesting with each other. Gonzalo says that they are simply loudmouthed jokers, who "would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing" . By conspiring against the king, however, they reveal themselves as more sinister and greedier than Gonzalo recognizes, using their verbal wit to cover up their darker and more wicked impulses. However, their greediness for power is both foolish and clumsy. As they attempt to cover their treachery with the story of the "bellowing / Like bulls, or rather lions" , it seems hard to believe that Antonio ever could have risen successfully against his brother. The absurdly aggressive behavior of Antonio and Sebastian makes Prospero's exercise of power in the previous and following scenes seem necessary. It also puts Alonso in a sympathetic position. He is a potential victim of the duo's treachery, a fact that helps the audience believe his conversion when he reconciles with Prospero at the end.