My language! heavens!

I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis 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, ne'er since at ebb, beheld
The king my father wreck'd.

Mir.

Alack, for mercy!

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 'twere fit to do't.

They have chang'd eyes.

I'll set thee free for this!

At the first sight
Delicate Ariel,

A word, good sir;

I fear you've 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 inclin'd 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're both in either's powers: but this swift busi

ness

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

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,
Fer.

the lord on't.

No, as I'm 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.

Pros.

Follow me.

[To Fer.

Speak not you for him; he's a traitor.

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.

What, I say,

traitor;

My fool my tutor! Put thy sword up,

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.

Mir.

Beseech you, father!

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.

Mir.

My affections

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

Pros.

Come on; obey:

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.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats
To whom I am subdu'd, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a-day
Behold this maid: all corners else o' th' earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

It works. Come on.

Pros. [aside]
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!
Hark what thou else shalt do me.

Mir.

My father's of a better nature, sir,

[To Fer.

[To Fer.

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.

ACT II.

SCENE I. Another part of the island.

Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN,
FRANCISCO, and others.

Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause

So have we all

Is much beyond our loss Our hint of woe

Is common; every day some sailor's wife,

The master of some merchant, and the merchant,
Have just our theme of woe: but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions

Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.

Alon.
Prithee, peace.
Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.

Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.

Gon. Sir,

Seb. One: tell.

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed.

Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. Gon. Therefore, my lord,

Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

Alon. I prithee, spare.

Gon.

Seb. He will be talking.

Well, I have done: but yet,

Ant. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first

begins to crow?

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,

Adr. Yet,

Ant. He could not miss't.

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.

Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.
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.

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how 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,

beyond credit,

which is indeed almost

Seb. As many vouched rarities are.

Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and gloss, being rather new-dyed than stained 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 graced before with such a paragon to their queen.

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 Æneas" too? Good Lord, how you take it!