Pro.

My brave spirit!

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil

Would not infect his reason?

Ari.

Not a foul

But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the king's fon, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair)
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, Hell is empty,

And all the devils are here.

Not a hair perish'd;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and as thou bad'st me,
In troops I have difpers'd them 'bout the isle:
The king's fon have I landed by himself;
Whom I left cooling of the air with fighs,
In an odd angle of the ifle, and fitting,

His arms in this fad knot.

Pro.

Of the king's ship,

The mariners, say, how thou hast difpos'd,
And all the rest o' the fleet?

Ari.

Safely in harbour

Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call dit me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid:
The mariners all under hatches stow'd;

Whom, with a charm join'd to their fuffer'd labour,
I have left asleep: and for the rest o' the fleet,
Which I difpers'd, they all have met again;

And

And are upon the Mediterranean flote,

Bound sadly home for Naples;

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd,

And his great person perish.

Pro.

Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work:
What is the time o' the day?

Ari.

Past the mid season.

Pro. At least two glasses: The time 'twixt fix 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.

How now? moody?

What is't thou can'st demand?
Ari.

My liberty.

Ari.

I pray thee

Pro. Before the time be out? no more.

Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd

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?
Ari.

No.

Pro. Thou dost; and thinkst
It much, to tread the ooze 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 bak'd with froft.

Ari.

I do not, fir.

Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age, and envy, Was grown into a hoop? haft thou forgot her?

Ari. No, fir.
Pro.

Thou hast: Where was the born? speak;

tell me.

Ari. Sir, in Argier.

Pro.

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 forceries terrible

To enter human hearing, from Argier,

Thou know'ít, was banish'd; for one thing the did,
They would not take her life: Is not this true?

Ari. Ay, fir.

Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,
And here was left by the failors: Thou, my flave,
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,
Refufing 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,

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

Ari.

Yes; Caliban her fon.

Pro. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban,
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know it
What torment I did find thee in: thy groans
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breafts
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,

And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till

Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.
Ari.

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my fpriting gently.

Pardon, master:

Pro.

Do so; and after two days

I will discharge thee.
Ari.

That's my noble master!

What shall I do? say what? what shall I do?

Pro. Go make thyself like to a nymph o' the 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 ARIEL.

Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;
Awake!

Mira. The strangeness of your story put

Heaviness in me.

Pro.

Shake it off: Come on;

We'll vifit Caliban, my flave, who never

Yields us kind answer.

Mira.

I do not love to look on.

Pro.

'Tis a villain, fir,

But, as 'tis,

We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood; and ferves in offices

That profit us. What, ho! flave! Caliban!

Thou earth, thou! fpeak.

Cal

Cal. [Within.] There's wood enough within.

Pro. Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee: Come forth, 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.

Pro. Thou poisonous flave, 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 fouth-west blow on ye,
And blifter 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 them.

Cal.

I must eat my dinner.

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

Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'ft

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 lov'd thee,
And shew'd thee all the qualities o' the ifle,
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!