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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 baked with frost.

I do not, sir.
Pros. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou

The foul witch Sycorax, who with age


envy Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

Ari. No, sir.

Thou hast. Where was she born ?
speak; tell me.
Ari. Sir, in Argier.

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.
Pros. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought

with child
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, 270
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant;
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,

261. Argier, Algiers.

specific ground of mercy was 266. for one thing she did. is as irrelevant as the specific What this one thing was has ground of condemnation, and excited much needless specula- may have entered as little into tion. The only object of the Shakespeare's mind. narrative was to account for Sycorax's arrival in the island ; 269. blue - eved, (probably) she was banished for her crimes with blue or livid eyelids, then and spared death in considera- a reputed sign of pregnancy tion of some service ; what the (Wright).


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

As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this

Save for the son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp hag-born—not honour'd with
A human shape.

Yes, Caliban her son.
Pros. 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 arrived and heard thee, that made gape
The pine and let thee out.

I thank thee, master.
Pros. 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.

Pardon, master;
I will be correspondent to command
And do my spiriting gently.

Do so, and after two days
I will discharge thee.

That's my noble master !
What shall I do? say what ; what shall I do?
Pros. Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea :

be subject To no sight but thine and mine, invisible



Tu every eyeball else. Go take this shape
And hither come in 't: go, hence with diligence !

[Exit Ariel. Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!

Mir. The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

Shake it off. Come on;
We'll visit Caliban my slave, .who never
Yields us kind answer.

'Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.

But, as ’tis,
We cannot miss him : he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood and serves in offices
That profit us. What, ho ! slave! Caliban!
Thou earth, thou ! speak.

Cal. [Within] There 's wood enough within.
Pros. Come forth, I say ! there's other busi-

ness for thee : Come, thou tortoise ! when ?


Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph.
Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
Hark in thine ear.

My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. Pros. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil

himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!


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
311. miss, do without.

of impatience. 316. when an exclamation 317. quaint, dainty.

And blister you all o'er!

Pros. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt

have cramps,


Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made 'em.

I must eat my

dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou takest from me. When thou camest

Thou strokedst me and madest much of me,

wouldst 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 loved

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 o' the island.

Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have

used thee, Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee

326. urchins, hobgoblins. 333. strokedst and madest,

327. for that vast of night, Ff strok'st and made. for that desolate period of night 334. berries, perhaps coffee, in which they were permitted to already known by report as an work.

Eastern drink.

340 350

In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
The honour of my child.

Cal. O ho, O ho! would 't had been done !
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.

Abhorred slave,
Which any print of goodness wilt not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each

One thing or other : when thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble

like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known. But thy vile

Though thou didst learn, had that in 't which

good natures
Could not abide to be with ; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confined into this rock,
Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

Cal. You taught me language; and my profit



Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you
For learning me your language !

Hag-seed, hence!
Fetch us in fuel ; and be quick, thou 'rt best,
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.


351-62. Assigned by Ff to were currently classified accordMiranda. It was restored to ing to the colour of the sores Prospero by Theobald.

they produced, 'red,' 358. race, hereditary nature, yellow,' and 'black.' strain.

364. rid, destroy. 364. red plague. Plagues 369. old, intense, 'rare.'

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