Re-enter ARIEL, like a Water-nymph. Fine apparition! My quaint 30 Ariel, Hark in thine ear. 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 31 Shall, for that vast 32 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'st from me. When thou camest first, Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st give me 30 Quaint here means brisk, spruce, dexterous, from the French cointe. 31 Urchins were fairies of a particular class. Hedgehogs were also called urchins; and it is probable that the sprites were so named, because they were of a mischievous kind, the urchin being anciently deemed a very noxious animal. Shakspeare again mentions these fairy beings in The Merry Wives of Windsor. "Like urchins, ouphes, and fairies green and white." In the phrase still current, "a little urchin," the idea of the fairy still remains. 32 That vast of night is that space of night. So, in Hamlet: "In the dead waist and middle of the night," nox vasta, midnight, when all things are quiet and still, making the world appear one great uninhabited waste. In the pneumatology of ancient times visionary beings had different allotments of time suitable to the variety and nature of their agency. Water with berries in't; and teach me how Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me 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. Cal. O ho, O ho!-'would it had been done! Pro. Abhorred slave; Which any print of goodness will not take, With words that made them known: But thy vile race, natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou 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 33 For learning me your language! 33 Destroy. you, Pro. Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou wert 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 34: make thee roar, That beasts shall tremble at thy din! Cal. No, 'pray thee!— I must obey his art is of such power, Pro. [Aside. So, slave; hence! [Exit CALIBAN. Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND following him. ARIEL'S SONG. Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: 34 The word aches is evidently a dissyllable here and in two passages of Timon of Athens. The reader will remember the senseless clamour that was raised against Kemble for his adherence to the text of Shakspeare in thus pronouncing it as the measure requires. Ake," says Baret in his Alvearie, "is the verb of this substantive Ache, ch being turned into k." And that ache was pronounced in the same way as the letter h is placed beyond doubt by the passage in Much Ado about Nothing, in which Margaret asks Beatrice for what she cries Heigh ho, and she answers for an h. i. e. ache. See the Epigram of Heywood adduced in illustration of that passage. This orthography and pronunciation continued even to the times of Butler and Swift. It would be easy to produce numerous instances. 35"The giants when they found themselves fettered roared like bulls, and cried upon Setebos to help them."-Eden's Hist. of Travayle, 1577. p. 434. 36 Still, silent. Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. 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; [Burden, 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 37:-I hear it now above me. 37 i. e. owns. language. To owe was to possess or appertain to, in ancient 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 seest, A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, Mira. A thing divine; for nothing natural Pro. I might call him It goes on, I see, [Aside. 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 38, 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. 38 The folio of 1685 reads made, and many of the modern editors have laboured to persuade themselves that it was the true reading. It has been justly observed by M. Mason that the question is "whether our readers will adopt a natural and simple expression, which requires no comment, or one which the ingenuity of many commentators has but imperfectly supported." |