20

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 hintl,
That wrings mine eyes.

Pro.

Hear a little further,

And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon us; 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

not;

(So dear the love my people bore me) nor set
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 carcase of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had 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 cherubim

Thou wast, that did preserve me? Thou didst smile,

Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

When I have deck'd2 the sea with drops full salt;

Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me

An undergoing stomach3, to bear up

Against what should ensue.

(1) Suggestion.

(2) Sprinkled.

(3) Stubborn resolution.

Mira.

How came we ashore?

Pro. By Providence divine.

Some food we had, and some fresh water, that.

A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity (who being then appointed
Master of this design,) did give us, with
Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,
Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentle-

ness,

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,
From my own library, with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom.

Mira.

But ever see that man!

Pro.

'Would I might

Now I arise:

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this island we arriv'd; and here
Have I, thy school-master, made thee more profit
Than other princes 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 inclin'd 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

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.

Pro.

Hast thou, spirit,

Perform'd to point1 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: sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the top-mast,
The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly;
Then meet, and join: Jove's lightning's, 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'd 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 coil2
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,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair upstaring (then like reeds, not hair,)
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, Hell is empty,

And all the devils are here.

Not a hair perish'd;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and, as thou bad'st me,
In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle :

(1) The minutest article.

(2) Bustle, tumult.

1

The king's son have I landed by himself;
Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs,
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot.

Pro.

Of the king's ship,
The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd,

And all the rest o' the fleet?

Ari.

Safely in harbour

Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid.
The mariners all under hatches stowed;

Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd la

bour,

I have left asleep: and for the rest o' the fleet,
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again;
And are upon the Mediterranean flote2,

Bound sadly home for Naples;

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd,

And his great person perish.

Pro.

Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work:
What is the time o' the day?

Ari.

Past the mid season.

Pro. At least two glasses: the time 'twixt six and now,

Must by us both be spent most preciously.

Ari. 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.

Pro.

What is't thou canst demand?
Ari.

How now? moody?

My liberty.

Pro. Before the time be out? no more.
Ari.

I pray thee

Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd

(1) Bermudas.

(2) Wave.

Pro. Thou dost; and think'st

It much, to tread the ooze of the salt deep;
To run upon the sharp wind of the north;
To do me business in the veins o' the earth,

When it is bak'd with frost.

Ari.

I do not, sir.

Pro. 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?

Ari. No, sir.

Pro.

Thou hast: where was she born?

speak; tell me.

Ari. Sir, in Argier.1
Pro.

O, was she so? I must, Once in a month, recount what thou hast been, 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. Is not this true? Ari. Ay, sir.

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 earthly and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests2, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,

(1) Algiers.

(2) Commands,