I have left asleep and for the rest o' the fleet
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again,
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,1
Bound sadly home for Naples,

Supposing that they saw the King's ship wrack'd,
And his great person perish.

Pro.
Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work.
What is the time o' th' day!

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 canst demand?

Ari.

How now! moody?

My liberty.

Pro. Before the time be out? no more.
Ari.
I pr'ythee
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge, or grumblings.

Thou didst promise

Dost thou forget

To bate me a full year.

Pro.

From what a torment I did free thee?

Pro. Thou dost; and think'st 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' th' earth,
When it is bak'd with frost.

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; tell me. Ari. Sir, in Argier. 2

Pro.

O! was she so? I must,

Once in a month, recount what thou hast been,

Which thou forget'st. This vile 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,
They would not take her life. Is not this true?

Ari. Ay, sir.

Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,

And here was left by th' sailors. Thou, my slave

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,

By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine: within which rift
Imprison'd, thou did'st 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 freckl'd 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. This 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.

Pardon, master:

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my spiriting gently.

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 a nymph o' th' 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!

Mira. The strangeness of your story put

Heaviness in me.

Pro.

Shake it off. Come on:

We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never

Yields us kind answer.

Mira.

I do not love to look on.

Pro.

"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 hoa! slave! Caliban!

Thou earth, thou! speak.

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

Pro. Come forth, I say: there's other business for thee. Come, thou tortoise! when?

Enter Ariel, like a Water-nymph.

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

Hark in thine ear.

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!

[Exit.

Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath up: urchins1
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd

As thick as honey-comb, 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'st from me. When thou camest first,

Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me,-would'st 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 show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle,

The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and fertile.
Curs'd 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' th' island.

Pro.

Thou most lying slave,

Whom stripes may move, not kindness, I have us'd thee,
Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodg'd thee
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate

The honour of my child. 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 would'st 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,

Who hadst deserv'd 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!

Pro.

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.

Cal.

No, 'pray thee!

I must obey. [Aside.] His art is of such pow'r,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.

[Exit Caliban.

Enter Ariel invisible, playing and singing,
Ferdinand following him.
ARIEL'S Song.

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:

Curt'sied when you have, and kiss'd—
(The wild waves whist),-

Foot it featly here and there;

And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
Hark, hark!

[Burthen.] Bowgh-wowgh. [Dispersedly.
The watch-dogs bark:

Bowgh-wowgh.

ARI. Hark, hark! 1 hear

The strain of strutting chanticlere
Cry, cock-a-doodle-doo.

Fer. Where should this music be? i' th' air, or th' earth?--
It sounds no more;-and sure, it waits upon
Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the King my father's wrack,
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.

ARIEL sings.

Full fadom 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

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.

Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance

And say, what thou seest yond'.

Mira.

What is 't? a spirit?

See how it looks about! Believe me, sir,

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 wrack; 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.

Pro. [Aside.] It goes on,.

I see,

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

Fer.

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!

Mira.

But, certainly a maid.
Fer.

No wonder, sir;

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

Pro.
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 weep myself am Naples ;
Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld
The King, my father, wrack'd.

Mira.

Alack, for mercy!

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

Pro.

[Aside.] The Duke of Milan,

And his more braver daughter, could control1 thee,

If now't were fit to do't.-At the first sight

They have chang'd eyes :-delicate Ariel,

I'll set thee free for this!-[To him.] A word, good sir!

I fear you have done yourself some wrong a word.
Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This

Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first

That e'er I sigh'd for. Pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!

Fer.

O! if a virgin,

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

Pro.

Soft, sir: one word more.

[Aside.] They are both in either's pow'rs: but this swift business must uneasy make, lest too light winning

Make the prize light.-[To him.] One word more : I charge thee, That thou attend me. Thou dost here usurp

The name thou ow'st not; and hast put thyself

Upon this island as a spy, to win it

From me, the lord on 't.

Fer.

No, as I am a man.

1 Confute.