Pro.

[me

Now the condition. This king of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises,Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan, With all the honours, on my brother: whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open The gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence 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 to 't.

Pro.

Hear a little farther, And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon's; without the which, this story Were most impertinent.

Mira.

That hour destroy us? Pro.

Wherefore did they not

Well demanded, wench: My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst So dear the love my people bore me,-nor set [not,A mark so bloody on the business; but With colours fairer painted their foul ends. In few, they hurried us aboard a bark, Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively have quit it: there they hoist us, To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again, Did us but loving wrong.

Mira.

Was I then to you!

Pro.

Alack, what trouble

O, a cherubin

Here in this island we arriv'd; and here

3

Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princess' can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.
Mira. Heavens thank you for 't! And now, I
pray you, Sir,-

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-
Now my dear lady-hath mine enemies
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
Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions!
Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way:-I know thou canst not choose.-
[MIRANDA sleeps.
Come away, servant, come! I am ready now:
Approach, my Ariel; come!

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.
Ariel, and all his quality.
Hast thou, spirit,

Pro.
Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Ari. To every article.

I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd amazement: sometime I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the topmast,
The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join. Jove's lightnings, the pre-

cursors

O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not: the fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,
Yea, his dread trident shake.
Pro.
My brave spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
Would not infect his reason?

Ari.

Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation. All, but mariners,
Plunged in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair)
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, "Hell is
And all the devils are here."
[empty,
Pro.
Why, that's my spirit!

But was not this nigh shore?
Ari.

Ari.

Pro.

Exactly is perform'd: but there's more work. Ariel, thy charge

What is the time o' the day?

Ari.

Pro. At least two glasses. and now

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.

Pro.

From what a torment I did free thee?

Dost thou forget

Ari.

No.

[the ooze

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.

Ari.
Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou for-
I do not, Sir. [got
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.

Art. Sir, in Argier.

Pro.

Once in a month, recount what thou hast been, O, was she so? I must, 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, They would not take her life. Ari. Ay, Sir. 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, 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 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

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. Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, I thank thee, master. And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. Ari.

What shall I do? say what; what shall I do? Pro. Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea: be subject To no sight but thine and mine; invisible To every eyeball else. Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; And hither come in 't: go, hence with diligence. Go take this shape, [Exit ARIEL. Awake!

Mira. [Waking.] The strangeness of your story Heaviness in me. [put

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

Pro.
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
But, as 'tis,
Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices
That profit us.-What ho! 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?

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

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:

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' th' island.

Pro. Which any print of goodness will not take, Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,

[hour

Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each
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,
[natures
Though thou didst learn, had that in 't which good
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.

No, pray thee!

Cal. [Aside.] I must obey: his art is of such power, It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him.

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 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.

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:

[Burden: ding-dong.

Hark! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell.

Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd faThis is no mortal business, nor no sound [ther.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? Lord, 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 see'st,
Was in the wreck; 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 them.
Mira.

A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

I might call him

It goes on, I see,

[thee

Most sure,

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

Fer. 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, I weep: myself am Naples; Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The king, my father, wreck'd.

Mira.

Fer. Yes, faith, and all his
Milan,

And his brave son, being twain.
Pro. [Aside.]

Alack, for mercy! lords; the duke of

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 chang'd 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.