But doth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell :

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 sound

That the earth owes :-1 hear it now above me.

Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond'.

Mira. What is't? a spirit?

Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,

It carries a brave form :-But 'tis a spirit.

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

senses

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 A goodly person: He hath lost his fellows,

And strays about to find them.

Mira. I might call him

A thing divine; for nothing natural

I ever saw so noble.

Pro. It goes on,

[Aside.

As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee 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 made, or no?

Mira. 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 'tis spoken.

Pro. 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.

Mira. Alack, for mercy!

Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of Milan, And his brave son, being twain.

Pro. 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 chang'd eyes :-Delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this!-A word, good sir;

[Aside,

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

Pro. Soft, sir; one word more.

They are both in either's power: but this swift business

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 own'st 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.

Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple :

If the ill spirit have so fair an house,

Good things will strive to dwell with't.

Pro. Follow me.

Speak not you for him; he's a traitor.-
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:

[To FERD.] -Come.

Sea-water shalt thou drink, thy food shall be

The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled: Follow.

Fer. No;

I will resist such entertainment, till

Mine enemy has more power.

Mira. O, dear father,

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

Pro. What, I say,

[He draws.

My foot my tutor!

-Put thy sword traitor;

up,

Who mak'st a shew, 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.

Mira. 'Beseech you, father!

Pro. Hence; hang not on my garments.
Mira. Sir, have pity;

I'll be his surety.

Pro. Silence: one word more

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.

Mira. My affections

Are then most humble; I have no ambition

To see a goodlier man.

Pro. 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,

[To FERD.

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' th' earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

Come on.

Pro. It works :-
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel !-

Hark, what thou else shalt do me.

Mira. Be of comfort;

My father's of a better nature, sir,

Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted,

Which now came from him.

Pro. Thou shalt be as free

As mountain winds: but then exactly do

All points of my command.

Ari. To th' syllable.

Pro. Come, follow: Speak not for him.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. Another part of the Island. Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others.

Gonzalo.

'BESEECH you, sir, be merry: you have cause
(So have we all) of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss: Our hint of woe
Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
The masters 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. Pr'ythee, 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:

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

Seb. A dollar.

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. Fye, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

Alon. I pr'ythee, spare.

Gon. Well, I have done: But yet

Seb. He will be talking.

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

'first begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

Ant. The cockerel.

Seb. Done: The wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match.

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,

Seb. Ha, ha, ha!

Ant. So, you've pay'd.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,

Seb. Yet,

Adr. Yet,

Ant. He could not miss it.

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

Ant. He misses not much.

in't.

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 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!