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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.

Ari.

I do not, sir.

Pros. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou

forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

Ari. No, sir.
Pros.

Thou hast. Where was she born?

speak; tell me.

Ari. Sir, in Argier.

Pros.

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

260

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.

266. for one thing she did. What this one thing was has excited much needless speculation. The only object of the narrative was to account for Sycorax's arrival in the island; she was banished for her crimes and spared death in consideration of some service; what the

specific ground of mercy was is as irrelevant as the specific ground of condemnation, and may have entered as little into Shakespeare's mind.

269. blue-eyed, (probably) with blue or livid eyelids, then a reputed sign of pregnancy (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

groans

As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this

island

Save for the son that she did litter here,

A freckled whelp hag-born-not honour'd with
A human shape.

Ari.

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.

Ari.

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.

Ari.

Pardon, master ;

I will be correspondent to command
And do my spiriting gently.

Pros.

I will discharge thee.

Ari.

Do so, and after two days

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

280

300

To 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

[blocks in formation]

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 business for thee:

Come, thou tortoise! when?

Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph.

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

Hark in thine ear.

Ari.

My lord, it shall be done. [Exit.

Pros. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself

Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Enter CALIBAN.

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.
316. when? an exclamation

of impatience.

317. quaint, dainty.

310

320

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.

Cal.

I must eat my dinner.

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

first,

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.

Pros.

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. 327. for that vast of night, for that desolate period of night in which they were permitted to work.

330

340

333. strokedst and madest, Ff strok'st and made.

334. berries, perhaps coffee, already known by report as an Eastern drink.

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.

Pros.

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
hour

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.

race,

But thy vile

Though thou didst learn, had that in 't which

good natures

350

Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou 360 Deservedly confined into this rock,

Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

Cal. You taught me language; and my profit
on't

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

Pros.

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 Miranda. It was restored to Prospero by Theobald.

358. race, hereditary nature, strain.

364. red plague. Plagues

were currently classified according to the colour of the sores they produced, as 'red,' 'yellow,' and 'black.'

364. rid, destroy.

369. old, intense, 'rare.'

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