(Filth as thou art) with humane care, and lodg'd thee In mine own cell, 'till thou didft feek to violate CAL. Oh ho, oh ho!-I wou'd it had been done! Thou didst prevent me, I had peopled elfe This ifle with Calibans. PRO. Abhorred flave; Which any print of goodness will not take, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known. But thy vile race (Tho' thou didst learn) had that in't, which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Defervedly confin'd into this rock, Who hadft deferv'd more than a prifon CAL. You taught me language, and my profit on't Is, I know how to curfe: the red plague rid you, For learning me your language! PRO. Hag-feed, hence! Fetch us in fewel and be quick (thou wer't best) What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps; CAL. No, 'pray thee. I must obey; his art is of such pow'r, [afide. And make a vassal of him. PRO. So, Aave, hence! [Exit Caliban. SCENE V. Enter Ferdinand, at the remoteft part of the stage; and Ariel invifible, playing and finging. ARIEL'S SONG. Come unto thefe yellow fands, And then take hand : Court'fied when you have, and kist, The wild waves whift; Foot it featly here and there, And sweet sprites, the burden bear. [Burden, difperfedly. Hark, hark, baugh-waugh; the watch-dogs bark, ARI. Hark, hark, I hear The strain of strutting chanticlere Cry, Cock a-doodle-do. FER. Where should this musick be, i'th' air, or earth? It founds no more: and fure, it waits upon Some god o'th' ifland. Sitting on a bank, Weeping against the king my father's wreck, This mufick crept by me upon the waters; Allaying both their fury and my paffion, With its sweet air; thence I have follow'd it. Or it hath drawn me rather-but 'tis gone. No, it begins again. ARIEL'S SONG. Full fathom five thy father lies, But doth fuffer a fea-change, Into fomething rich and strange. Hark, now I hear them, ding-dong, bell. [Burden, ding-dong. FER. The ditty does remember my drown'd father. This is no mortal business, nor no found That the earth owns; I hear it now above. PRO. The fringed curtains of thine eyes advance, And fay, what thou fee'ft yond. MIRA. What is't, a fpirit? Lord, how it looks about! believe me, Sir, PRO. No, wench, it eats, and fleeps, and senses hath And ftrays about to find 'em. MIRA. I might call him A thing divine; for nothing natural I ever faw fo noble. PRO. It goes on, I see, [Afide. As my foul prompts it. Spirit, fine fpirit, I'll free thee Within two days for this. FER. Most fure, the goddess On whom these airs attend!-Vouchfafe, my pray❜r And that you will fome good instruction give, MIRA. No wonder, Sir, But certainly a maid. FER. My language! heav'ns! I am the best of them that speak this speech PRO. How the best? What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee? MIRA. Alack, for mercy! FER. Yes, faith, and all his lords: the duke of Milan, And his brave fon, being twain. PRO. The duke of Milan, And his braver daughter, could control thee, [Afide to Ariel. They have chang'd eyes:-delicate Ariel, Is the third man that I e'er faw; the first, That e'er I fighed for. Pity move my father To be inclin'd my way! СА -FER. O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples. PRO. Soft, Sir; one word more. They're both in either's pow'r : but this fwift bufinefs I must uneafy make, left too light winning [Afide. Make the prize light -Sir, one word more; I charge thee, That thou attend me:-thou dost here ufurp The name thou ow'st not, and haft put thyself Upon this island, as a fpy, to win it From me, the lord on't. FER. No, as I'm a man. MIRA. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill fpirit have so fair an house, Good things will ftrive to dwell with't. PRO. [to Ferd.] Follow me [To Mirand.] Speak not you for him; he's a traitor-Come, I'll manacle thy neck and feet together; Sea-water fhalt thou drink; thy food shall be The fresh-brook muffels, wither'd roots, and husks Wherein the acorn cradied. Follow. FER. No, I will refift such entertainment, 'till Mine enemy has more power. [He draws, and is charm'd from moving. MIRA. O dear father, Make not too rafh a tryal of him: for He's gentle, and not fearful. PRO. What I fay, My foot my tutor? put thy fword up, traitor, Who mak'st a fhew, but car't not ftrike; thy confcience |