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Ari.

But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation. All, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me : the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair)
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, “ Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.''
Pro.

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

Close by, my master. Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe ? Ari.

Not a hair perish’d;
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before : and, as thou bad'st me,
In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle.
The king's son have I landed by himself,
Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot.
Pro.

Of the king's ship
The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos’d,
And all the rest o’ the fleet ?
Ari.

Safely in harbour
Is the king's ship: in the deep nook, where once
Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid :
The mariners all under hatches stow'd ;
Whom, with a charm joined to their suffer'd labour,
I have left asleep: and for the rest o' the fleet
Which I dispers’d, they all have met again,
And all' upon the Mediterranean float,
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck’d,
And his great person perish.
Pro.

Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform’d; but there's more work.
What is the time o' the day?
Ari.

Past the mid season. Pro. At least two glasses. The time'twixt six and now Must by us both be spent most preciously.

Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform’d me.

lare : in f. e. 2 flote : in f. e.

Pro.

Ari.

How now ! moody? What is 't thou canst demand ?

My liberty. Pro. Before the time be out ? no more. Ari.

I prithee
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge, or grumblings. Thou didst promise
To bate me a full year.
Pro.

Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?
Ari.

No.
Pro. Thou dost; and think'st it much, to tread the ooze
Of the salt deep,
To run upon the sharp wind of the north,
To do me business in the veins o'th' earth,
When it is bak'd with frost.
Ari.

I do not, sir Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age and envy, Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

Ari. No, sir. - Pro.

Thou hast. Where was she born ? speak; tell me. Ari. Sir, in Argier.

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

Ari. Ay, sir.
Pro. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with

child,
And here was left by the sailors: thou, my slave
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant:
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd, thou didst painfully remain

A dozen years; within which space she died,
And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans
As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island
(Save for a? son that she did litter here,
À freckled whelp, hag-born) not honour'd with
A human shape.
Ari.

Yes; Caliban, her son,
Pro. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban,
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
What torment I did find thee in: thy groans
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts
Of ever-angry bears. It was a torment
To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not again undo: It was mine art,
When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.
Ari.

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

Pardon, master : I will be correspondent to command, And do my spriting gently. Pro.

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

That's my noble master!
What shall I do? say what? what shall I do?
Pro. Go, make thyself a like nymph o the sea : be

subject
To no sight but thine and mine ; invisible
To every eyeball, else. Go, take this shape,
And hither come in't; go; hence, with diligence.

Exit ARIEL. Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!

Mira. The strangeness of your story put [Waking.' Heaviness in me.

Shake it off. Come on:
We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.
Mira.

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

But, as 'tis,
1 the : in f. e. 2 like a: in f. e. 3 Not in f. e.

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We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices
That profit us. -What ho! slave! Caliban!
Thou earth, thou ! speak.

Cal. [Within] There's wood enough within.

Pro. Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee. Come, thou tortoise! when ?

Re-enter ARIEL, like a water-nymph.
Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
Hark in thine ear.
Ari.

My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Enter CALIBAN.
Cal. As wicked dew, as e'er my mother brush'd
With raven's feather from unwholesome fen,
Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye,
And blister you all o'er!

Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honey-combs,' each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made 'em.
Cal.

I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st here first, Thou strok’dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st

give me Water with berries in 't; and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fertile. Cursed be I that did so ! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you; For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king : and here you sty me, In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest oth' island. Pro.

Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness, I have us'd thee, Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodg’d thee

1 honey-comb: in f. e.

Pro.

TEMPEST

TEMPEST. . . 21
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
The honour of my child.

Cal. O ho! O ho!-would it had been done!
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.

Abhorred slave,
Which any print of goodness will not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known : but thy vile race,
Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures
Could not abide to be with : therefore wast thou
Deservedly confin'd into this rock,
Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison.

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

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

No, pray thee ! I must obey; his art is of such power, [Aside. It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him. Pro.

So, slave; hence! [Exit CALIBAN. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing ; FERDI

NAND following.'

ARIEL's Song.
Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:
Court' sied when you have, and kiss'd

The wild waves whist,
Foot it featly here and there ;

Pro.

1 f. e. have "him." 2 The old copies read : “ Foot it featly here and there, and sweet sprites bear the burden." The MS. annotator of the folio of 1632, anticipated later critics in altering the passage as it stands in the text

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