Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies A most auspicious star; whose influence Enter ARIEL. Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, On the curl'd clouds; to thy strong bidding, task Pro. I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak, cursors O'the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And sight-out-running 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 his coil 8 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 up-staring (then like reeds, not hair,) Was the first man that leap'd; cried, Hell is empty, And all the devils are here. Pro. Why, that's my spirit! But was not this nigh shore? Ari. Close by, my master. Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe? Not a hair perish'd; Ari. 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: 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, Ari. 8 Bustle, tumult. 9 Bermudas. Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour, Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd, 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. How now? moody? My liberty. What is't thou can'st demand? Ari. 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 Without or grudge or grumblings: thou did❜st pro mise To bate me a full year. Pro. Dost thou forget No. From what a torment I did free thee? Ari. Pro. Thou dost; and think'st It much, to tread the ooze of the salt deep; 1 Wave. To do me business in the veins o'the earth, 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.2 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. Aye, sir. Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my slave, To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, A dozen years; within which space she died, groans, 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 The pine, and let thee out. gape 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. Pardon, master: I will be correspondent to command. Pro. I will discharge thee. Ari. Do so; and after two days That's my noble master! What shall I do? say what? what shall I do? To every eyeball else. Go, take this shape, Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake! Mira. The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me. Pro. Shake it off: come on; We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never Yields us kind answer. |