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A dozen years; within which space she dy'd,

And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groans

As fast as mill-wheels ftrike. Then was this ifland

(Save for the fon that she did litter here,

A freckl'd whelp, hag-born) not honour'd with
A human shape.

Ari. Yes; Caliban her fon,

Pro. Dull thing, I fay fo: he, that Caliban
Whom now I keep in fervice. 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, mafter.

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

I will be correspondent to command,
And do my sp’riting gently.

Pro. Do fo: and after two days I'll discharge thee.
Ari. O, that's my noble master:

What fhall I do? fay what? what shall I do?.

Pro. Go, make thyself like to a nymph o' th' sea :
Be fubject to no fight but mine: invifible

To every eye-ball elfe. Go, take this shape,
And hither come in't: hence with diligence.
Awake, dear heart, awake, thou hast slept well,

Mira. The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

Pro. Shake it off: come on;

We'll vifit Caliban my flave, who never

[Exit Ari.




Yields us kind answer.

Mira. 'Tis a villain, fir,

I do not love to look on.

Pro. But, as 'tis,

We cannot mifs him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood, and ferves in offices
That profit us. What hoa! flave! Caliban!
Thou earth thou! fpeak.

Cal. (within.) There's wood enough within.

Pro. Come forth, I fay, there's other business for thee.
Enter Ariel like a water-nymph.

Fine apparition! my quaint Ariel,

Hark in thine ear.

Ari. My lord, it fhall be done.

Pro. Thou poisonous flave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam; come forth, thou tortoise.

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Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd

With raven's feather from unwholfome fen,

Drop on you both! a fouth-west blow on ye,

And blifter you

all o'er !


Pro. For this, be fure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins

Shall, for that vaft of night that they may work,

All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd

As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more ftinging
Than bees that made 'em.

Cal. I muft eat my dinner.

This island's mine by Sycorax my mother,

Which thou tak'ft from me. When thou camest first,

Thou ftroak'dft me, and mad'ft 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 fhew'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle,

The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place, and fertile.
Curs'd be I, that I did fo! all the charms

Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
For I am all the subjects that you have,

Who first was mine own king: and here you fty me
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The reft of th' island.

Pro. Thou moft lying flave,

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 feek to violate

The honour of my child.

Cal. Oh ho, oh ho, I wou'd it had been done!
Thou didst prevent me, I had peopled else
This ifle with Calibans.

Pro. Abhorred flave;

Who any print of goodnefs will not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pity'd thee,

Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other. When thou could'ft not, favage,
Shew thine own meaning, but didst gabble like
A thing moft 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 waft thou
Deservedly confin'd into this rock.

Cal. You taught me language, and my profit on't
Is, I know how to curfe: the red-plague rid you
For learning me your language!

Pro. Hag-feed, hence!

Fetch us in fewel, and be quick (thou 'wert best)
To answer other business. Shrug'ft thou, malice?
If thou neglect'ft, or doft unwillingly

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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 muft obey; his art is of fuch pow'r,
It would controul my dam's god Setebos,
And make a vaffal of him.

Pro. So, flave, hence !

[Exit Caliban.


Enter Ferdinand, and Ariel invifible, playing and finging.


Come unto thefe yellow fands,

And then take hands:

Curt'fied when you have and kift;

The wild waves whift;

Foot it featly here and there,

And Sweet Sprites the burthen bear. [Burthen difperfedly.
Hark, bark, bough-wawgb: the watch-dogs bark,

Ari. Hark, bark, I hear

The ftrain of frutting chanticlere

Cry, Cock-a-doodle-do.

Fer. Where fhould this mufick be? in air, or earth?
It founds no more: and, fure, it waits upon

Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping against the king my father's wreck,
This mufick crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury, and my paffion,
With it's fweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me, rather—but 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.




Full fathom five thy father lyes:
Of his bones are coral made;
Thofe are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth fuffer a fea-change,
Into fomething rich and frange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell.

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

[Burthen: ding-dong.

Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father;

This is no mortal business, nor no found

That the earth owns: I hear it now above me.


Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And fay, what thou seeft yond.

Mira. What is't, a fpirit?

Lord, how it looks about! believe me, fir,

It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.

Pro. No, wench, it eats, and fleeps, and hath fuch fenfes

As we have, fuch. This gallant which thou seeft

Was in the wreck: and, but he's fomething ftain'd

With grief (that's beauty's canker) thou might'ft call him

A goodly perfon. He hath loft his fellows,

And ftrays about to find 'em.

Mira. I might call him

A thing divine, for nothing natural

I ever faw fo noble.

Pro. It goes on,

I fee, as my foul prompts it. Spirit, I'll free thee

Within two days for this.

Fer. Moft fure, the goddess

On whom these airs attend! vouchsafe, my pray'r



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