The Tempest: Act 1, Scene 2

           Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA.

  1   If by your art, my dearest father, you have
  2   Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
  3   The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,
  4   But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,
  5   Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered
  6   With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,
  7   Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,
  8   Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
  9   Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd.
 10   Had I been any god of power, I would
 11   Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere
 12   It should the good ship so have swallow'd and
 13   The fraughting souls within her.

 13                                                     Be collected:
 14   No more amazement: tell your piteous heart
 15   There's no harm done.

 15                                   O, woe the day!

 15                                                               No harm.
 16   I have done nothing but in care of thee,
 17   Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who
 18   Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing
 19   Of whence I am, nor that I am more better
 20   Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
 21   And thy no greater father.

 21                                             More to know
 22   Did never meddle with my thoughts.

 22                                                           'Tis time
 23   I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,
 24   And pluck my magic garment from me. So:

           [Lays down his mantle.]

 25   Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.
 26   The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
 27   The very virtue of compassion in thee,
 28   I have with such provision in mine art
 29   So safely ordered that there is no soul—
 30   No, not so much perdition as an hair
 31   Betid to any creature in the vessel
 32   Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down;
 33   For thou must now know farther.

 33                                                     You have often
 34   Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd
 35   And left me to a bootless inquisition,
 36   Concluding 'Stay: not yet.'

 36                                           The hour's now come;
 37   The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
 38   Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember
 39   A time before we came unto this cell?
 40   I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not
 41   Out three years old.

 41                                   Certainly, sir, I can.

 42   By what? by any other house or person?
 43   Of any thing the image tell me that
 44   Hath kept with thy remembrance.

 44                                                       'Tis far off
 45   And rather like a dream than an assurance
 46   That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
 47   Four or five women once that tended me?

 48   Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it
 49   That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else
 50   In the dark backward and abysm of time?
 51   If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here,
 52   How thou camest here thou mayst.

 52                                                       But that I do not.

 53   Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
 54   Thy father was the Duke of Milan and
 55   A prince of power.

 55                             Sir, are not you my father?

 56   Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
 57   She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father
 58   Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir
 59   And princess no worse issued.

 59                                                   O the heavens!
 60   What foul play had we, that we came from thence?
 61   Or blessed was't we did?

 61                                       Both, both, my girl:
 62   By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence,
 63   But blessedly holp hither.

 63                                               O, my heart bleeds
 64   To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to,
 65   Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.

 66   My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio—
 67   I pray thee, mark me—that a brother should
 68   Be so perfidious!—he whom next thyself
 69   Of all the world I loved and to him put
 70   The manage of my state; as at that time
 71   Through all the signories it was the first
 72   And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed
 73   In dignity, and for the liberal arts
 74   Without a parallel; those being all my study,
 75   The government I cast upon my brother
 76   And to my state grew stranger, being transported
 77   And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle—
 78   Dost thou attend me?

 78                                   Sir, most heedfully.

 79   Being once perfected how to grant suits,
 80   How to deny them, who to advance and who
 81   To trash for over-topping, new created
 82   The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,
 83   Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key
 84   Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state
 85   To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was
 86   The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,
 87   And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not.

 88   O, good sir, I do.

 88                       I pray thee, mark me.
 89   I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
 90   To closeness and the bettering of my mind
 91   With that which, but by being so retired,
 92   O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother
 93   Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,
 94   Like a good parent, did beget of him
 95   A falsehood in its contrary as great
 96   As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,
 97   A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,
 98   Not only with what my revenue yielded,
 99   But what my power might else exact, like one
100   Who having into truth, by telling of it,
101   Made such a sinner of his memory,
102   To credit his own lie, he did believe
103   He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution
104   And executing the outward face of royalty,
105   With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing—
106   Dost thou hear?

106                           Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

107   To have no screen between this part he play'd
108   And him he play'd it for, he needs will be
109   Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library
110   Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties
111   He thinks me now incapable; confederates—
112   So dry he was for sway—wi' the King of Naples
113   To give him annual tribute, do him homage,
114   Subject his coronet to his crown and bend
115   The dukedom yet unbow'd—alas, poor Milan!—
116   To most ignoble stooping.

116                                             O the heavens!

117   Mark his condition and the event; then tell me
118   If this might be a brother.

118                                           I should sin
119   To think but nobly of my grandmother:
120   Good wombs have borne bad sons.

120                                                     Now the condition.
121   The King of Naples, being an enemy
122   To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
123   Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises
124   Of homage and I know not how much tribute,
125   Should presently extirpate me and mine
126   Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan
127   With all the honours on my brother: whereon,
128   A treacherous army levied, one midnight
129   Fated to the purpose did Antonio open
130   The gates of Milan, and, i' the dead of darkness,
131   The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
132   Me and thy crying self.

132                                       Alack, for pity!
133   I, not remembering how I cried out then,
134   Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint
135   That wrings mine eyes to't.

135                                             Hear a little further
136   And then I'll bring thee to the present business
137   Which now's upon's; without the which this story
138   Were most impertinent.

138                                         Wherefore did they not
139   That hour destroy us?

139                                     Well demanded, wench:
140   My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,
141   So dear the love my people bore me, nor set
142   A mark so bloody on the business, but
143   With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
144   In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,
145   Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared
146   A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigg'd,
147   Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
148   Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,
149   To cry to the sea that roar'd to us, to sigh
150   To the winds whose pity, sighing back again,
151   Did us but loving wrong.

151                                         Alack, what trouble
152   Was I then to you!

152                             O, a cherubim
153   Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile.
154   Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
155   When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,
156   Under my burthen groan'd; which raised in me
157   An undergoing stomach, to bear up
158   Against what should ensue.

158                                               How came we ashore?

159   By Providence divine.
160   Some food we had and some fresh water that
161   A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
162   Out of his charity, being then appointed
163   Master of this design, did give us, with
164   Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,
165   Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,
166   Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me
167   From mine own library with volumes that
168   I prize above my dukedom.

168                                           Would I might
169   But ever see that man!

169                                       Now I arise:

           [Puts on his robe.]

170   Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
171   Here in this island we arrived; and here
172   Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
173   Than other princesses can that have more time
174   For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.

175   Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir,
176   For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason
177   For raising this sea-storm?

177                                               Know thus far forth.
178   By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,
179   Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
180   Brought to this shore; and by my prescience
181   I find my zenith doth depend upon
182   A most auspicious star, whose influence
183   If now I court not but omit, my fortunes
184   Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions:
185   Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
186   And give it way: I know thou canst not choose.

           [Miranda sleeps.]

187   Come away, servant, come. I am ready now.
188   Approach, my Ariel, come.

           Enter ARIEL.

189   All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
190   To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
191   To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
192   On the curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task
193   Ariel and all his quality.

193                                             Hast thou, spirit,
194   Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?

195   To every article.
196   I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
197   Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
198   I flamed amazement: sometime I'ld divide,
199   And burn in many places; on the topmast,
200   The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
201   Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors
202   O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
203   And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks
204   Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
205   Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,
206   Yea, his dread trident shake.

206                                                 My brave spirit!
207   Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
208   Would not infect his reason?

208                                                 Not a soul
209   But felt a fever of the mad and play'd
210   Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners
211   Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,
212   Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
213   With hair up-staring,—then like reeds, not hair,—
214   Was the first man that leap'd; cried, 'Hell is empty
215   And all the devils are here.'

215                                                 Why that's my spirit!
216   But was not this nigh shore?

216                                               Close by, my master.

217   But are they, Ariel, safe?

217                                           Not a hair perish'd;
218   On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
219   But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,
220   In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle.
221   The king's son have I landed by himself;
222   Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs
223   In an odd angle of the isle and sitting,
224   His arms in this sad knot.

224                                           Of the king's ship
225   The mariners say how thou hast disposed
226   And all the rest o' the fleet.

226                                               Safely in harbour
227   Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
228   Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
229   From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid:
230   The mariners all under hatches stow'd;
231   Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labor,
232   I have left asleep; and for the rest o' the fleet
233   Which I dispersed, they all have met again
234   And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
235   Bound sadly home for Naples,
236   Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd
237   And his great person perish.

237                                               Ariel, thy charge
238   Exactly is perform'd: but there's more work.
239   What is the time o' the day?

239                                             Past the mid season.

240   At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now
241   Must by us both be spent most preciously.

242   Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,
243   Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,
244   Which is not yet perform'd me.

244                                                 How now? moody?
245   What is't thou canst demand?

245                                               My liberty.

246   Before the time be out? no more!

246                                                     I prithee,
247   Remember I have done thee worthy service;
248   Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served
249   Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise
250   To bate me a full year.

250                                     Dost thou forget
251   From what a torment I did free thee?

251                                                           No.

252   Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the ooze
253   Of the salt deep,
254   To run upon the sharp wind of the north,
255   To do me business in the veins o' the earth
256   When it is baked with frost.

256                                               I do not, sir.

257   Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot
258   The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy
259   Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

260   No, sir.

260             Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.

261   Sir, in Argier.

261                         O, was she so? I must
262   Once in a month recount what thou hast been,
263   Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,
264   For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible
265   To enter human hearing, from Argier,
266   Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did
267   They would not take her life. Is not this true?

268   Ay, sir.

269   This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child
270   And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,
271   As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant;
272   And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
273   To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
274   Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
275   By help of her more potent ministers
276   And in her most unmitigable rage,
277   Into a cloven pine; within which rift
278   Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain
279   A dozen years; within which space she died
280   And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans
281   As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island—
282   Save for the son that she did litter here,
283   A freckled whelp hag-born—not honour'd with
284   A human shape.

284                         Yes, Caliban her son.

285   Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban
286   Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
287   What torment I did find thee in; thy groans
288   Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts
289   Of ever angry bears: it was a torment
290   To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax
291   Could not again undo: it was mine art,
292   When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape
293   The pine and let thee out.

293                                           I thank thee, master.

294   If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak
295   And peg thee in his knotty entrails till
296   Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

296                                                             Pardon, master;
297   I will be correspondent to command
298   And do my spiriting gently.

298                                               Do so, and after two days
299   I will discharge thee.

299                                       That's my noble master!
300   What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?

301   Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea: be subject
302   To no sight but thine and mine, invisible
303   To every eyeball else. Go take this shape
304   And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence!

           [Exit Ariel.]

305   Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;
306   Awake!

306             The strangeness of your story put
307   Heaviness in me.

307                             Shake it off. Come on;
308   We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never
309   Yields us kind answer.

309                                       'Tis a villain, sir,
310   I do not love to look on.

310                                       But, as 'tis,
311   We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
312   Fetch in our wood and serves in offices
313   That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!
314   Thou earth, thou! speak.

      CALIBAN [Within.]
314                                       There's wood enough within.

315   Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee:
316   Come, thou tortoise! when?

           Enter ARIEL like a water-nymph.

317   Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
318   Hark in thine ear.

318                               My lord it shall be done.


319   Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself
320   Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

           Enter CALIBAN.

321   As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd
322   With raven's feather from unwholesome fen
323   Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye
324   And blister you all o'er!

325   For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
326   Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
327   Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
328   All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd
329   As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging
330   Than bees that made 'em.

330                                     I must eat my dinner.
331   This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
332   Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,
333   Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me
334   Water with berries in't, and teach me how
335   To name the bigger light, and how the less,
336   That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee
337   And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,
338   The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile:
339   Cursed be I that did so! All the charms
340   Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
341   For I am all the subjects that you have,
342   Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me
343   In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
344   The rest o' the island.

344                                   Thou most lying slave,
345   Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,
346   Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee
347   In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
348   The honour of my child.

349   O ho, O ho! would't had been done!
350   Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
351   This isle with Calibans.

351                                           Abhorred slave,
352   Which any print of goodness wilt not take,
353   Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
354   Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
355   One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,
356   Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
357   A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
358   With words that made them known. But thy vile race,
359   Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures
360   Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
361   Deservedly confined into this rock,
362   Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

363   You taught me language; and my profit on't
364   Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you
365   For learning me your language!

365                                                     Hag-seed, hence!
366   Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best,
367   To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?
368   If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly
369   What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps,
370   Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar
371   That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

371                                                               No, pray thee.


372   I must obey: his art is of such power,
373   It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
374   and make a vassal of him.

374                                         So, slave; hence!

           Exit CALIBAN.

           Enter FERDINAND; and ARIEL,
           invisible, playing and singing.

           ARIEL['S] SONG

375   Come unto these yellow sands,
376   And then take hands:
377   Courtsied when you have and kiss'd
378   The wild waves whist,
379   Foot it featly here and there;
380   And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
381   Hark, hark!

***          Burthen, dispersedly, [within.]

382   Bow-wow.
383   The watch-dogs bark!

           [Burthen, dispersedly, within.]

384   Bow-wow.
385   Hark, hark! I hear
386   The strain of strutting chanticleer

           Cry [within].

387   Cock-a-diddle-dow.

388   Where should this music be? i' the air or the earth?
389   It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon
390   Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank,
391   Weeping again the king my father's wreck,
392   This music crept by me upon the waters,
393   Allaying both their fury and my passion
394   With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
395   Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.
396   No, it begins again.

           ARIEL['S] SONG.

397   Full fathom five thy father lies;
398   Of his bones are coral made;
399   Those are pearls that were his eyes:
400   Nothing of him that doth fade
401   But doth suffer a sea-change
402   Into something rich and strange.
403   Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell

           Burthen [within].

404   Ding-dong.
405   Hark! now I hear them,—Ding-dong, bell.

406   The ditty does remember my drown'd father.
407   This is no mortal business, nor no sound
408   That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.

409   The fringed curtains of thine eye advance
410   And say what thou seest yond.

410                                                 What is't? a spirit?
411   Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
412   It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.

413   No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses
414   As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest
415   Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'd
416   With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him
417   A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows
418   And strays about to find 'em.

418                                               I might call him
419   A thing divine, for nothing natural
420   I ever saw so noble.



420                                 It goes on, I see,
421   As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee
422   Within two days for this.

422                                           Most sure, the goddess
423   On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer
424   May know if you remain upon this island;
425   And that you will some good instruction give
426   How I may bear me here: my prime request,
427   Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
428   If you be maid or no?

428                                 No wonder, sir;
429   But certainly a maid.

429                                     My language! heavens!
430   I am the best of them that speak this speech,
431   Were I but where 'tis spoken.

431                                               How? the best?
432   What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?

433   A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
434   To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;
435   And that he does I weep: myself am Naples,
436   Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld
437   The king my father wreck'd.

437                                             Alack, for mercy!

438   Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan
439   And his brave son being twain.



439                                                   The Duke of Milan
440   And his more braver daughter could control thee,
441   If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight
442   They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,
443   I'll set thee free for this. —A word, good sir;
444   I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.

445   Why speaks my father so ungently? This
446   Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first
447   That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father
448   To be inclined my way!

448                                     O, if a virgin,
449   And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
450   The queen of Naples.

450                                   Soft, sir! one word more.


451   They are both in either's powers; but this swift business
452   I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
453   Make the prize light. —One word more; I charge thee
454   That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
455   The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself
456   Upon this island as a spy, to win it
457   From me, the lord on't.

457                                   No, as I am a man.

458   There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:
459   If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
460   Good things will strive to dwell with't.

460                                                               Follow me.
461   Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come;
462   I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:
463   Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
464   The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots and husks
465   Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

465                                                           No;
466   I will resist such entertainment till
467   Mine enemy has more power.

           He draws, and is charmed from moving

467                                                         O dear father,
468   Make not too rash a trial of him, for
469   He's gentle and not fearful.

469                                               What? I say,
470   My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
471   Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience
472   Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward,
473   For I can here disarm thee with this stick
474   And make thy weapon drop.

474                                           Beseech you, father.

475   Hence! hang not on my garments.

475                                                   Sir, have pity;
476   I'll be his surety.

476                               Silence! one word more
477   Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
478   An advocate for an imposter! hush!
479   Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,
480   Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
481   To the most of men this is a Caliban
482   And they to him are angels.

482                                         My affections
483   Are then most humble; I have no ambition
484   To see a goodlier man.


           [To Ferdinand.]
484                                     Come on; obey:
485   Thy nerves are in their infancy again
486   And have no vigour in them.

486                                             So they are;
487   My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
488   My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
489   The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats,
490   To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
491   Might I but through my prison once a day
492   Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
493   Let liberty make use of; space enough
494   Have I in such a prison.


494                                       It works.

           [To Ferdinand.]

494                                       Come on.—
495   Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!

           [To Ferdinand.]

495                                                   Follow me.

           [To Ariel.]

496   Hark what thou else shalt do me.

496                                                     Be of comfort;
497   My father's of a better nature, sir,
498   Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
499   Which now came from him.

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

501                                           To the syllable.


           [To Ferdinand.]

502   Come, follow.

           [To Miranda.]

502                       Speak not for him.