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A dozen years; within which space she dy'd,
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,
À freckld whelp, hag-born) not honour'd with
A human shape.

Ari. Yes; Caliban her son,

Pro. 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 arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.
Ari. I thank thee, master.
Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak,

thee in his knotty entrails, 'till Thou'st howld away twelve winters.

Ari. Pardon, master.
I will be correspondent to command,
And do my sp’riting gently.

Pro. Do so: and after two days I'll discharge thee.

Ari. O, that's my noble master :
What shall I do? say what? what shall I do?

Pro. Go, make thyself like to a nymph o'th’sea :
Be subject to no fight but mine : invisible
To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape,
And hither come in't: hence with diligence. [Exit Ari.

Awake, dear heart, awake, thou hast flept well, Awake.

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

Pro. Shake it off: come on;
We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never
VOL. I.

С

Yields

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Yields us kind answer.

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

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

Cal. (within.) There's wood enough within.
Pro. Come forth, I say, there's other business for thee.

Enter Ariel like a water-nymph.
Fine apparition ! my quaint Ariel,
Hark in thine ear.
Ari. My lord, it fhall be done.

[Exit.
Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself
Upon thy wicked dam; come forth, thou tortoise.

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Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd
With raven's feather from unwholsome fen,
Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye,
And blister

you

all o'er !
Pro. 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 honey-combs, 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 tak ft from me. When thou cameft first,
Thou stroak’dft me, and mad'st much of me; would'It give me
Water with berries in't; and teach me how

To

To name the bigger light, and how the less,
That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee,
And Thew'd thee all the qualities o'th' isle,
The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place, and fertile.
Curs'd be I, that I did for all the charms
of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
For I am all the subjects that you have,
Who first was mine own king: and here you sty me
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest of th’ island.

Pro. Thou most lying Nave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness; I have us'd thee
(Filth as thou art) with human care, and lodg’d thee
În mine own cell, 'till thou didst seek to violate
The honour of my child.

Cal. Oh ho, oh ho, I wou'd it had been done!
Thou didst prevent me, I had peopled else
This ifle with Calibans.

Pro. Abhorred slave;
Who any print of goodness will not take,
Being capable of all ill ! I pity'd thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other. When thou could'st not, savage,
Shew thine own meaning, but didst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known. But thy vile race
(Though thou didst learn) had that in’t, which good natures
Could not abide to be with ; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confin'd into this rock.

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 !

Pro. Hag-seed, hence I
Fetch us in fewel, and be quick (thou 'wert best)
To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?
If thou neglect'ft, or dost unwillingly

What

C 2

What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps,
Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar,
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

Cal. No, pray thee.
I must obey; his art is of such pow'r,
It would controul my dam’s god Setebos,
And make a vasfal of him.
Pro. So, flave, hence !

[Exit Caliban.

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Enter Ferdinand, and Ariel invisible, playing and finging.

ARIE Ł's SONG.
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take bands :
Curt’sed when you have and kist;

The wild waves whift;
Foot it featly here and there,
And sweet sprites the burtben bear. [Burthen disperfedly.
Hark, bark, bougb-wawgb: the watch-dogs bark,

Bough-wawgh.
Ari. Hark, hark, I hear

The strain of Arutting chanticlere

Cry, Cock-a-doodle-do.

Fer. Where should this musick be? in air, or earth?
It sounds no more: and, sure, it waits upon
Some god o'th' island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping against the king my father's wreck,
This musick crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury, and my passion,
With it's sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me, rather — but ’tis gone.
No, it begins again.

A RIE L’s

ARIE L's SON G.
Full fathom five thy father lyes :

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.
Hark, now I hear them, ding-dong bell.

[Burthen: ding-dong.
Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father ;
This is no mortal business, nor no found
That the earth owns: I hear it now above me.

SCENE VI.

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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, fir,
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 'em.

Mira. I might call him
A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.
.

[Afde.
I fee, as my soul prompts it. Spirit, I'll free thee
Within two days for this.

Fer. Most súre, the goddess
On whom these airs attend ! vouchsafe, my pray’r

May

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