Caliban and Miranda - 1. Caliban and Miranda (The Tempest)

The Tempest, Act I Scene 2

CALIBAN

No, pray thee.

Aside

I must obey: his art is of such power,

It would control my dam's god, Setebos,

and make a vassal of him.

PROSPERO

So, slave; hence!

Exit CALIBAN to the side with MIRANDA

CALIBAN

Well, my beauty? How did the show please you?

Was I uncouth and crude, savage enough?

MIRANDA

Too loud! If Father heard you speaking so--

CALIBAN

Then he would know what he must never know:

That never did I force myself on you;

Quite the reverse.

MIRANDA:

Please, do not speak of it!

Do not reproach the follies of a child.

CALIBAN

Reproach? Miranda, no blame lies with you.

Each sweet caress you gave in ignorance.

You loved me once; it was before you knew

Deformity existed in the world.

You were perfection; defect found no hold

In your pure heart, and so you never saw it.

But you have learned, and you are wiser now;

It’s right that you should hate the sight of me.

MIRANDA

If I were wise, I should have left you mute.

I taught you speech because I pitied you.

Poor Caliban, we were such friends back then,

Playing that you were student more than I,

The salt-sprayed rocks our schoolhouse, shells our books,

And I, severe school-mistress, scolding you

Until your tears of shame would melt my heart.

If Father knew that pity turned to love

His rage would be unbounded.

CALIBAN

Calm yourself.

Your father’s spells are vastly powerful,

Trammeling my body in a cave,

Forcing my limbs to wretched, basest toil;

But your enchantments are more potent still,

That hold my mind a helpless prisoner,

And make me mask affection with coarse words.

To save an angel, I must play the beast,

And save your good name by befouling mine.

MIRANDA

Though exil’d here, Prospero is a king;

He’d die if family honor were besmirched.

CALIBAN

Yet he has other cause to disapprove

Your love, and more, your tutoring of me;

Were I still wordless, I could not reveal

The other uses that he wished to make

Of this my body, until I rebelled

And said, enough, not that, no matter how

You punish me. And punish me he did.

MIRANDA

I will not credit such appalling lies.

CALIBAN

O, innocent! It does not matter now.

What’s done is done. He has his catamite,

His little Ariel, to satisfy

His kingly lusts, and be his instrument

Of vengeance on these men wrecked in the storm.

MIRANDA

These men! These castaways from distant lands!

My father thinks I’m not aware of them,

But, oh, I am! Such wonders! There is one

They call Fernando. Have you seen him?

CALIBAN

Yes.

MIRANDA

He is so beautiful! Don’t you agree?

CALIBAN

Yes, even my misshapen eyes see that.

His flawless form could cast me into Hell.

MIRANDA

I could love him. I might love him.

CALIBAN

You will.

And how could he resist your loveliness?

No one on whom you smile can help but love.

So you will make him happy, and he you.

Your happiness is all my heart can wish.

My own was never possible.

MIRANDA

They, too,

These shipwrecked men, must never ever know!

CALIBAN

Must never know you once were kind to me,

Or that you had a warm and generous heart?

A keen, discerning one, at very least,

That saw the soul in this benighted shape,

And coaxed it out for all too brief a day?

A soul you now fling back into the gloom,

Where it belongs, and always did belong?

Wondrous Miranda, do not be afraid.

The tale will never pass my ugly lips.