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ACT I
Sc. II

As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this Island
(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.

I will be correspondent to command,
And do my spriting gently.1

PRO.

I will discharge thee.
ARI.

290

Pardon, master:

Do so; and after two days

That's my noble master!
What shall I do? say what! what shall I do?
PRO. Go, make thyself like to a Nymph o' th' sea;

Be subject to no sight but mine, invisible
To every eyeball else. Go, take this shape,
And hither come in 't: hence, with diligence.

300

[Exit ARIEL.

Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;
Awake!

MIRA. [awaking.] The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

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PRO. Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee:

Come forth, thou tortoise! when?

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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!

[exit.

320

PRO. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins1
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honey-comb, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made 'em.

CAL.

I must eat my dinner.

This Island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,

330

Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest first,
Thou strok'd me, and made 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 shew'd thee all the qualities2 o' the Isle,

The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and fertile;
Curs'd be I that I 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

340

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ACT I
Sc. II

ACT I
Sc. II

In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest of the Island.

PRO.

Thou most lying slave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness: I have us'd thee
(Filth as thou art), with humane 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!—I would 't had been done!
Thou didst prevent me: I had peopled else
This Isle with Calibans.

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350

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

natures

Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
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
For learning me your language!

PRO.

you

Hag-seed, hence!

Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou 'rt best,
To answer other business. Shrugg'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 achës: make thee roar

That beasts shall tremble at thy din!

CAL.

360

370

No, 'pray thee!—

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390

FER. Where should this music be? i' the air, or the earth?
It sounds no more; and sure, it waits upon
Some god o' the Island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the King my father's wrack,
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;

1

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:

BURTHEN. Ding-dong.

ARIEL. 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 owes2:-I hear it now above me.

400

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ACT I PRO. The fringed curtains of thine eye
And say, what thou see'st yond.

Sc. II

MIRA.

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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 wrack; 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 'em.

MIRA.

I might call him

420

A thing divine; for nothing natural

I ever saw so noble.

PRO. [aside.]

It goes on, I see,

Spirit, fine Spirit! I'll free thee

As my soul prompts it.
Within two days for this.

FER.

Most sure, the goddess
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?

On whom these airs attend!

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 single1 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 wrack'd.

MIRA.

Alack, for

mercy

1

FER. Yes, faith, and all his Lords; the Duke of Milan
And his brave son being twain.

430

1 feeble and lonely.

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