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 of 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 stowed;
Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd la-
bour,

I have left asleep and for the rest o' the fleet,
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again;
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
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.
Pro.

What is't thou canst demand?
Ari.

To act her earthly 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 the son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp, hag-born,) not honoured 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 arriv'd, 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.
will be correspondent to command,
And do my spiriting gently.

I

How now? moody?

Pro.

My liberty.
Pro. Before the time be out? no more.
Ari.
I pray thee
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst pro-
mise

To bate me a full year.
Pro.

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

Pro. Thou dost; and think'st

No.

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' the earth,
When it is bak'd with frost.

I do not, sir.

Ari.
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 banished; for one thing she
did,

They would not take her life. Is not this true?
Ari. Ay, sir.

Pro. This blue-ey'd 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

Pardon, master:

Do so; and after two days

That's my noble master!
What shall I do? say what: what shall I do?
Pro. Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea;
Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible
To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape,
And hither come in't: hence, with diligence.

[Exit Ariel.

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

Mira. The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.
Shake it off; come on;

Pro.

We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.

Mira.

I do not love to look on.

'Tis a villain, sir,

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,
(4) Commands. (5) Do without.

Cal.

I must eat my dinner.
This island's mine, by Sycorax, my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest 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' the 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 of the island.
Thou most lying slave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness; I have

Pro.

us'd thee,

Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodg'd thee
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 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

Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confin'd into this rock,
Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison.

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

Fer. Where should this music be? i' the air, on
the earth?

What is't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, carries a brave form :-But 'tis a spirit. Pro. No, wench; it cats and sleeps, and hath such senses

It

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

I might call him

Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on't A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,
Is, I know how to curse: the red plague rid you, And strays about to find them.
For learning me your language!
Mira.
Pro.
Hag-seed, hence! A thing divine; for nothing natural
Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou were best, I ever saw so noble.
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,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.

Pro.

[Aside.

So, slave; hence!

[Exit Caliban.

Re-enter Ariel, invisible, playing and singing;
Ferdinand following him.

ARIEL'S SONG.

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:

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.

Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.
Fer.

So they are: My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,

Milan

Alack, for mercy!

And his brave son, being twain.
Pro.

The duke of Milan,
And his more braver daughter, could control' thee,
If now it were fit to do 't. At the first sight

[Aside.

They have chang'd eyes:-Delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this!-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 ere I saw; the first
That ere I sigh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!
O, if a virgin,

Fer.

The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison, once a day,
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the carth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.
Pro.
It works :-Come on.-
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!-Follow me.-
[To Ferd. and Mira.
Hark, what thou else shalt do me. [To Ariel,
Mira.
Be of comfort,

Pro.

My father's of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted, Which now came from him. Thou shalt be as free As mountain winds: but then exactly do Soft, sir; one word more.-All points of my command. They are both in either's powers: but this swift Ari. To the syllable. business Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt.

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

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning[Aside.
Make the prize light.-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."

Seb. Ha, ha, ha!

Ant. So, you've pay'd.

Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible, The stomach of my sense: 'would I had never

Seb. Yet,

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not miss it.

delicate temperance.'

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,

Fran.

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee!
Sir, he may live;
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him his bold
head

Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a fen.

Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd green!

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.

Seb. With an eye of green in't.

Ant. He misses not much.

Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is, indeed, almost beyond credit-)

Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are.

Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness, and glosses; being rather new dy'd, than stain'd with salt water.

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, He lies?

Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis.

Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Adr. Tunis was never grac'd before with such paragon to their queen.

a

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. Ant. Widow? a pox o' that! how came that widow in? Widow Dido!

Seb. What if he had said, widower Encas too? good lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Adr. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too. Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?

Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple. Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.

Gon. Ay?

Ant. Why, in good time.

As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt,
He came alive to land.

Alon.

No, no, he's gone.

Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great

loss;

Foul weather?
Ant.
Very foul.
Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,-
Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.
Seb.
Or docks, or mallows.
Gon. And were the king of it, What would I do?.
Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by contraries,
Execute all things: for no kind of traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; no use of service,
Of riches or of poverty; no contracts,
Successions; bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil:
No occupation; all men idle, all;
And women too; but innocent and pure:
No sovereignty:-
Seb.
And yet he would be king on't.
Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth for-.

Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seem now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis, at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido. Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first gets the beginning. day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.4

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?

(1) Temperature. (2) Rank. (5) Shade of colour.

Gon. All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,

(4) Degrec or quality,

(5) The rack,

Would I not have but nature should bring forth, Whiles thou art waking.
Of its own kind, all folzon, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying mong his subjects?
Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.
Gen. I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.
Seb.

There's meaning in thy snores.

Must be so too, if heed me; which to do,
Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you
Trebles thee o'er.

((1) Plenty.

(2) A bird of the jack-daw kind,