O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary Prospero. My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Ariel. Not a soul Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners, Prospero. But was not this nigh shore? Ariel. Why, that's my spirit! Close by, my master. Prospero. But are they, Ariel, safe? Not a hair perish'd; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, Prospero. Of the king's ship, The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd, Ariel. Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour, P And are upon the Mediterranean flote,2 Bound sadly home for Naples; Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd, Prospero. Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work: What is the time o' the day? Ariel. Ariel, thy charge Past the mid season. Prospero. At least two glasses: The time 'twixt six and now, Must by us both be spent most preciously. Ariel. 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. Prospero. What is't thou canst demand? Ariel. How now? moody? My liberty. I pray thee Prospero. Before the time be out? no more. Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise Prospero. Dost thou forget No. From what a torment I did free thee? Ariel. Prospero. Thou dost; and think'st It much, to tread the ooze of the salt deep; Ariel. I do not, sir. Prospero. 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? Ariel. No, sir. 2 Wave. Prospero. Thou hast where was she born? speak; tell me. Ariel. Sir, in Argier.3 Prospero. O, was she so? I must, Thou know'st, was banish'd; for one thing she did, Prospero. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my slave, Into a cloven pine; within which rift A dozen years; within which space she died, And left thee there; where thou did'st vent thy groans, A freckled whelp, hag-born,) not honour'd with Ariel. Yes; Caliban her son. Prospero. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban, Could not again undo; it was mine art, Ariel. 3 Algiers. I thank thee, master. * Commands. Prospero. 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. What shall I do? say what? what shall I do? Prospero. Go make thyself like to a nymph o'the sea; Be subject to no sight 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 has slept well; Awake! Miranda. The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me. Prospero. Shake it off: Come on, We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never Yields us kind answer. Miranda. I do not love to look on. Prospero. '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. Caliban. [Within.] There's wood enough within. Prospero. 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. My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. Ariel. Enter CALIBAN. Caliban. 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! Prospero. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins5 As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more stinging Caliban. I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, 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' the isle, The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fertile ; Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! Which first was mine own king: and hear you sty me Prospero. 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 The honour of my child. Abhorred slave; Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour 5 Fairies. |