It sounds no more: and, sure, it waits upon
Some god o' the 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 't is 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 :
Burthen. Ding-dong.

Ari. 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 owes. I hear it now above me.
Pros. The fringéd curtains of thine eye advance
And say what thou seest yond.

Mir.

What is 't? a spirit?
Believe me, sir,

Lord, how it looks about!
It carries a brave form. But 't is a spirit.
Pros. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath
such senses

As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest

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Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'd With grief that 's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him

A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows
And strays about to find 'em.

I might call him

Mir.

A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

Pros.

[Aside] It goes on, I see,

As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll

free thee

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Within two days for this.
Fer.
Most sure, the goddess
On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer
May know if you remain upon this island;
And that you will some good instruction give
How I may bear me here: my prime request,
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
If you be maid or no?

Mir.

No wonder, sir;

But certainly a maid.

Fer.

My language! heavens! I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 't is spoken.

Pros. 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, never since at ebb, beheld The king my father wreck'd.

Mir.

Alack, for mercy!

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Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of

Milan

And his brave son being twain.

Pros.

[Aside] The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could control thee, If now 't were fit to do 't. At the first sight They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this. [To Fer.] A word, good sir;

I fear

you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mir. 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 inclined my way!

Fer.

O, if a virgin,

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

Pros.

Soft, sir! one word more. [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 Fer.] One word more;
I charge thee

That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
The name thou owest 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.

Mir. 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.

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Follow me.

Pros.

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 mussels, wither'd roots and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

Fer.

No;

I will resist such entertainment till
Mine enemy has more power.

[Draws, and is charmed from moving. O dear father,

Mir.
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He 's gentle and not fearful.

Pros.

What? I say,

My foot my tutor! Put thy sword up, traitor; Who makest a show but darest 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.

Mir.

Beseech you, father. Pros. Hence! hang not on my garments. Mir.

Sir, have pity;

I'll be his surety.

Pros.

Silence! one word more

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

Thou think'st there is 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.

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Mir.

My affections
Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

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

Fer.

Come on; obey:

So they are;

My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, nor 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 earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

Pros. [Aside] It works. [To Fer.] Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To Fer.] Follow

me.

[To Ari.] Hark what thou else shalt do me.

Mir.

Be of comfort;

My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
Which now came from him.

Pros.
Thou shalt be as free
As mountain winds: but then exactly do
All points of my command.

Ari.

To the syllable. Pros. Come, follow. Speak not for him.

[Exeunt.

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