Prospero's Books
- R
- Year:
- 1991
- 124 min
- 501 Views
Knowing I lov'd my books,
he furnish'd me from mine own library
with volumes that I prize
above my dukedom.
A Book of Water
This is a waterproof-covered book
which has lost its colour
by much contact with water.
It is full of investigative drawings
and exploratory text
written on many different
thicknesses of paper.
There are drawings of every
conceivable watery association
seas, tempests, streams, canals,
shipwrecks, floods and tears.
As the pages are turned,
there are rippling waves
and slanting storms.
Rivers and cataracts flow and bubble.
Plans of hydraulic machinery
and maps of weather-forecasting
flicker with arrows,
symbols and agitated diagrams.
The drawings are all made
by the same hand,
bounded into a book
by the King of France at Ambois
and bought by the Milanese Dukes
to give to Prospero
as a wedding present.
B o a t s w a i n ! B o a t s w a i n !
B o a t s w a i n !
Boatswain! Boatswain!
Boatswain!
Boatswain!
Boatswain!
Boatswain!
Boatswain!
Boatswain!
Boatswain!
Here, master; what cheer?
Here, master; what cheer?
Good! Speak to th' mariners;
Good! Speak to th' mariners;
fall to't yarely,
or we run ourselves aground;
fall to't yarely,
or we run ourselves aground;
Down with the topmast
bestir, bestir
Yare, lower, lower!
bestir, bestir
Bring her to try wi' th' maincourse.
A plague upon this howling!
They are louder
than the weather or our office.
Yet again! What do you here?
Shall we give o'er, and drown?
Have you a mind to sink?
A pox o' your throat, you bawling,
blasphemous, incharitable dog!
Work you, then.
Hang, cur;hang,
we are less afraid to be
drown'd than thou art.
Methinks he hath no drowning
mark upon him;
his complexion is perfect gallows
fall to't yarely,
or we run ourselves aground.
bestir, bestir
Heigh, my hearts!
cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!
Take in the topsail.
Tend to th' master's whistle.
Blow till thou burst thy wind,
if room enough.
Bound in a gold cloth and very heavy,
this book has some eighty
shining mirrored pages;
some opaque, some translucent,
some manufactured with silvered papers,
some covered in a film of mercury
that will roll off the page unless treated cautiously.
Some mirrors simply reflect the reader,
some reflect the reader as he will be in a year's time,
as he would be if he were a child, a monster, or an angel.
Where is the master, boson?
Do you not hear him?
You mar our labour;
keep your cabins;
you do assist the storm.
What cares these roarers for the name of king?
To cabin! silence! Trouble us not.
Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.
None that I more love than myself.
If you can command these elements to silence,
and work the peace of the present,
we will not hand a rope more.
Use your authority;
if you cannot,
give thanks you have liv'd so long,
and make yourself ready in your cabin
for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap.
Out of our way, I say.
Take in the topsail. Tend
to th' master's whistle.
Cheerly, good hearts!
bestir, bestir
Heigh, my hearts!
Trouble us not.
Methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him;
his complexion is perfect gallows.
All lost! to prayers, to prayers!
- What, must our mouths be cold?
...we run ourselves aground;
- Tend to th' master's whistle.
We split, we split, we split!
Architecture and Other Music
When the pages are opened in this book,
plans and diagrams
spring up fully-formed.
There are definitive models of buildings
constantly shaded by moving cloud-shadow.
lights flicker in nocturnal urban landscapes
and music is played in the halls and towers.
If by your art, my dearest father,
you have Put the wild waters in this roar,
allay them.
The sky, it seems,
would pour down stinking pitch,
but that the sea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek,
dashes the fire out.
O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer!
A brave vessel, Who had no
doubt some noble creature in her,
dash'd all to pieces!
Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea
for an acre of barren ground -
long heath, brown furze, any thing.
but I would fain die dry death.
Had I been any god of power, I would have sunk
the sea within the earth
or ere it should the good
ship so have swallow'd
and the fraughting souls within her.
Be conected;
No more amazement;
tell your piteous heart There's no harm done.
No harm.
I have done nothing but in care of thee,
Of thee, my dear one,
thee, my daughter,
who Art ignorant of what thou art,
nought knowing Of whence I am,
nor that I am more better Than Prospero,
master of a full poor cell,
And thy no greater father.
'Tis time I should inform thee farther.
Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magic garment from me.
So,
Lie there my art.
Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.
The direful spectacle of the wreck,
which touch'd The very
virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely ordered
that there is no soul- No,
not so much perdition as an hair
betid to any creature in the vessel
Which thou heard'st cry,
which thou saw'st sink.
for thou must now know farther.
The hour's now come.
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear.
Obey, and be attentive.
Canst thou remember A time
before we came unto this cell?
I do not think thou canst,
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