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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

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
Heaviness in me.

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


I do not love to look on.


"Tis a villain, sir,

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.

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

Cal. [Within] There's wood enough within. Pros. Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee; Come, thou tortoise! when?


My lord, it shall be done.

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
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 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.


Thou most lying slave,

Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,
Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee
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.

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!


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,
Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.



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. 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 confined into this rock,


Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

No, pray thee.
[Aside] I must obey his art is of such power,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.




So, slave; hence! [Exit Caliban.

Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND


ARIEL'S song.

Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:

Courtsied when you have and kiss'd
The wild waves whist,
Foot it featly here and there;

And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
Burthen [dispersedly]. Hark, hark!


The watch-dogs bark:


Hark, hark! I hear

The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.


ARIEL sings.

Full fathom five thy father lies;
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 :
Burthen. Ding-dong.

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

Ari. Hark! now I hear them,-Ding-dong, bell.

Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father.
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.

Pros. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance And say what thou seest yond.


Lord, how it looks about? Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.

What is't? a spirit?





Pros. 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 mightst call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows And strays about to find 'em.

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


[Aside] It goes on, I see,

As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Within two days for this.



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 maid or no?


No wonder, sir;

But certainly a maid.
My language! heavens !
I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken.

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, never since at ebb, beheld
The king my father wreck'd.


Alack, for mercy!

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


Pros. [Aside] 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 changed eyes. Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this. [To Fer.] A word, good sir ; I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word. Mir. Why speaks my father so ungently? Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father To be inclined my way!



O, if a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The queen of Naples.



Soft, sir! one word more.

[Aside] They are both in either's powers; but this swift business


I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

Make the prize light. [To Fer.] One word more; I charge thee

That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp

The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself
Upon this island as a spy, to win it

From me, the lord on 't.


No, as I am a man.

Mir. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple : If the ill spirit have so fair a house,

Good things will strive to dwell with 't.

Follow me.
Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come;
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:
Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.



I will resist such entertainment till
Mine enemy has more power.

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

[Draws, and is charmed from moving. O dear father,


What? I say

My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;

Who makest a show but darest 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.

Beseech you, father.
Pros. Hence! hang not on my garments.

I'll be his surety.



What !

Silence one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee.
An advocate for an impostor! hush!
Thou think'st there is 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.


My affections Are then most humble; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man.


Sir, have pity;


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