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 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. How now? moody? Pro. Before the time be out? no more. Remember, I have done thee worthy service; To bate me a full year. Pro. Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? Ari. No. For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible They would not take her life: Is not this true? Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my slave, (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 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, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. Ari. Pardon, master: I will be correspondent to command, Pro. Do so; and after two days Ari. That's my noble master! What shall I do? say what? what shall I do? Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well: Mira. The strangeness of your story put Heaviness on me. Pro. Shake it off: Come on; We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never Mira. 'Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on. We cannot miss him: he does make our fire, 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. Ari. My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. Pro. Thou poisonous slave, 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 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, Cal. I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st first, Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st give me Water with berries in't; and teach me how And shew'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, Curs'd be I that did so!-All the charms Which first was mine own king: and here you sty Come unto to these yellow sands, [Dispersedly. [Dispersedly. Hark, Hark! I hear Fer. Where should this musick be? i' the air, or the earth? It sounds no more:-and sure, it waits upon • ARIEL sings. Full fathom five thy father lies; Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd fa ther: : This is no mortal business, nor no sound Mira. What is't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, Pro. No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath such senses As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll I'll manacle thy neck and feet together: 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 made, or no? Mira. No wonder, sir; But certainly a maid. Fer. 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, I weep: myself am Naples; Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The king my father wreck'd. Mira. Alack, for mercy! 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 Mira. O, dear father, Make not too rash a trial of him, for Pro. What, I say, [He draws. My foot my tutor!-Put thy sword up, traitor; Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward; Mira. Beseech you, father! Pro. Hence! hang not on my garments. I'll be his surety. Pro. Silence: one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke An advocate for an impostor? hush! Fer. O, if a virgin, My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, The queen of Naples. Pro. Soft, sir; one word more. They are both in either's powers: but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Aside. Make the prize light.-One word more, I charge thee, That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp From me, the lord on't. Fer. No, as I am a man. Might I but through my prison once a day Pro. It works:-Come on.Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!-Follow me.[To Ferd. and Mir. Hark, what thou else shalt do me. [To Ariel. Mira. Be of comfort; My father's of a better nature, sir, Pro. Thou shalt be as free Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command. Ari. To the syllable. Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. To Ferd. Speak not you for him; he's a traitor.-Come. [Exeunt. 1 ACT II. Seb. He will be talking. Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. Seb. Of that there's none, or little. Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks? how green? Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny. Seb. With an eye of green in't. Ant. He misses not much. Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is, (which is indeed almost beyond credit) Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are. Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness, and glosses; being rather new dy'd, than stain'd with salt water. Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, he lies? Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Africk, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter, Claribel, to the king of Tunis. Seb. "Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen. Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. Ant. Widow? a pox o' that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido! Seb. What if he had said, widower Æneas too? good lord, how you take it! Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good study of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis. wager, first begins to crow? Seb. The old cock. Ant. The cockrel. Seb. Done: The wager? Ant. A laughter. Seb. A match. Seb. Ha, ha, ha! Ant. So, you've paid. Seb. Yet Adr. Yet Adr. Though this island seem to be desert, Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. Adr. Carthage? Gon. I assure you, Carthage. Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too. Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next? Seb. I think he will carry this island home in Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,-- his pocket, and give it his son for an apple. Ant. He could not miss it. Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance. Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered. Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands. Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido. Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. Ant. That sort was well fish'd for. Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against The stomach of my sense: 'Would I had never I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir Fran. Sir, he may live; I saw him beat the surges under him, 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd Alon. No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss; That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an African; Alon. Pr'ythee, peace. Seb. You were kneel'd to, and impórtun'd otherwise By all of us; and the fair soul herself Execute all things: for no kind of traffick Seb. And yet he would be king on't. Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. Gon. All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour; treason, felony, Seb. No marrying among his subjects? Seb. 'Save his majesty! Ant. Long live Gonzalo ! Gon. And, do you mark me, sir? Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing. Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at. Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. Ant. What a blow was there given? Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. Enter ARIEL invisible, playing solemn musick. Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy? Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. [All sleep but ALON. SEB. and Ant. Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine |