To most ignoble stooping. O the heavens! Pro. Mark his condition, and the event ; then tell me, If this might be a brother. Mira. I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons. Pro. Now the condition. This king of Naples, being an enemy Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom; and confer fair Milan, The gates of Milan; and, i'the dead of darkness, Me, and thy crying self. Mira. Alack, for pity! I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then, Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint, That wrings mine eyes. Pro. Hear a little further, And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon us; without the which, this story Were most impertinent. Wherefore did they not Well demanded, wench; My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not; With colours fairer painted their foul ends. To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh Did us but loving wrong. Mira. Alack! what trouble O! a cherubim Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt; Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue. Mira. Pro. By Providence divine. How came we ashore? Some food we had, and some fresh water, that Out of his charity (who being then appointed I prize above my dukedom. Mira. But ever see that man! 'Would I might Now I arise : Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Have I, thy school-master, made thee more profit Than other princes can, that have more time For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. [you, sir, Mira. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray (For still 'tis beating in my mind,) your reason For raising this sea-storm? Pro. Know thus far forth. By accident most strange, bountiful fortune, Brought to this shore: and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star; whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes [Miranda sleeps. Come away, servant, come: I am ready now; Enter ARIEL. Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl'd clouds; to thy strong bidding, task Pro. Hast thou, spirit, Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee? I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak, Pro. My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Ari. Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd Pro. Why, that's my spirit! But was not this nigh shore? Close by, my master. Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe? Ari. Not a hair perish'd; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, His arms in this sad knot. Pro. Of the king's ship, Ari. Safely in harbour Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour, Pro. Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work : Ari. Past the mid season. Pro. At least two glasses: the time 'twixt six and now, Must by us both be spent most preciously. Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me. Pro. What is't thou can'st demand? How now? moody? My liberty. Pro. Before the time be out? no more. I pray thee Remember, I have done thee worthy service; Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise To bate me a full year. Pro. Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? Pro. Thou dost; and think'st No. It much, to tread the ooze of the salt deep; When it is bak'd with frost... Ari. I do not, sir. Pro. 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. Pro. Thou hast: where was she born? speak; Ari. Sir, in Argier. [tell me. 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 banish'd; for one thing she did, Ari. Ay, sir. Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant: And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthly and abhorr'd commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, 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, |