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 o' th' 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.

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.

Pro.

Abhorred slaye,

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!

Pro.
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!

[Aside.

I must obey; his art is of such power,
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.1

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 ;2

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

And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

Hark, hark!

Burden. Bow, wow.

The watch dogs bark:
Burden. Bow, wow.

Hark, hark! I hear

The strain of strutting chanticlere
Cry, cock-a-doodle-doo.

[Dispersedly.

[earth?

Fer. Where should this music be? i' th' air, or th'

It sounds no more;-and sure, it waits upon
Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wreck,
This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury, and my passion,
With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me rather:-but 'tis gone.-
No, it begins again.

ARIEL sings.

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

[Burden ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell.

Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father.—

This is no mortal business, nor no sound

That the earth owes1-I hear it now above me.

[Music above.

Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance And say, what thou seest yond'.

Mira.

What is 't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form :-but 'tis a spirit.

Pro. No, wench: it eats, and sleeps, and hath such

senses

As we have; such. This gallant, which thou seest, Was in the wreck; and but he's something stain'd With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou might'st call him A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows,

And strays about to find 'em.

1 Owns. Not in f. e.

Mira.

I might call him

It goes on, I see,

[Aside.

A thing divine, for nothing natural

I ever saw so noble.

Pro.

As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Within two days for this.

Fer. Most sure, the goddess [Seeing her.1 On whom these airs attend!-Vouchsafe, my prayer May know if you remain upon this island, [Kneels.' And that you will some good instruction give, How I may bear me here: my prime request, Which I do last pronounce, is, Ō you wonder! If you be maid, or no?

Mira.

But, certainly a maid.

Fer.

No wonder, sir;

My language! heavens!-Rises.3

I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken.

Pro.
How the best?
What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee?
Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me,
And that he does I weep; myself am Naples;
Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld
The king, my father, wreck'd.

Mira. Alack, for mercy! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of Milan, And his brave son, being twain.

The duke of Milan,

Pro.
And his more braver daughter, could control thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't.-[Aside.] At the first sight
They have chang'd eyes:-delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this!-[To him.] A word, good sir;
I fear, you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first

That e'er I sigh'd for. Pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!

O! if a virgin,

Fer.
And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The queen of Naples.

Pro.

Soft, sir: one word more.

1 Not in f. e. 2 Not in f. e. 3 Not in f. e.

[Aside.] They are both in either's powers: but this swift business

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

Make the prize light.-[To him.] One word more: I charge thee,

That thou attend me.

Thou dost here usurp

The name thou ow'st not; and hast put thyself
Upon this island as a spy, to win it

From me, the lord on't.

Fer.

No, as I am a man.

Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house,

Good things will strive to dwell with 't.

Pro. Follow me.

[To FERD.

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

Fer.

I will resist such entertainment, till

Mine enemy has more power.

Mira.

No;

[He draws, and is charmed from moving.

Make not too rash a trial of him, for

He's gentle, and not fearful.

Pro.

O, dear father!

What! I say:

My foot my tutor?-Put thy sword up, traitor;

Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience Is so possess'd with guilt: Come from thy ward,

For I can here disarm thee with this stick,

And make thy weapon drop.

Mira.

Pro. Hence! hang not on my garments.

Mira.

I'll be his surety.

Pro.

Beseech you, father!

Sir, have pity:

Silence! one word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! An advocate for an impostor? hush!

Thou think'st there are no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench! To the most of men this is a Caliban,

And they to him are angels.

Mira.

My affections