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

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Foot it featly here and there;

And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.

Burthen [dispersedly]. Hark, hark!

The watch-dogs bark:



Ari. Hark, hark! I hear


The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

Where should this music be? i'the air or the

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 '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 :
Burthen. Ding-dong.

Hark! now I hear them,-Ding-dong, bell.

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 fringed curtains of thine eye advance
And say what thou seest yond.



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


Pros. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such



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 mightst
call him

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

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

Pros. [Aside.]

I might call him

It goes on, I see,

As my soul prompts it.

Spirit, fine spirit! I'll

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On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer
May know if you remain upon this island;

And that you will some good instruction give


Most sure, the goddess

How I
may bear me here: my prime request,
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
If you be maid or no?


No wonder, sir;

But certainly a maid.





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


How? the best?
What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?
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.

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. At the first sight

They have changed eyes.

I'll set thee free for this.


Delicate Ariel,


[To Fer.] A word, good

I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
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!

O, if a virgin,

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


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.

No, as I am a man.

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

Good things will strive to dwell with 't.

Follow me.

Come ;


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

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


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

Make not too rash a trial of him, for

He's gentle and not fearful.

What? I say,

My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy


Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward,
For I can here disarm thee with this stick

And make thy weapon drop.



Beseech you, father.

Pros. Hence! hang not on my garments.


I'll be his surety.


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 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.

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

Come on; obey:
Thy nerves are in their infancy again
And have no vigour in them.


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


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

Be of comfort;

My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted

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