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Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND


ARIEL's song.

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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 wreck,
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
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.

Ari. 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. I hear it now above me.
Pros. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance
And say what thou seest yond.


What is't? a spirit?

Lord, how it looks about? Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.




Pros. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest

Was in the wreck; and, but he 's something stain'd With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him A goodly person he hath lost his fellows

And strays about to find 'em.

I might call him
A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.


[Aside] It goes on, I see,

As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Within two days for this.


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 or no?


But certainly a maid.


No wonder, sir;

My language heavens !
I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken.

How? the best?
What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?
Fer. A single 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, never since at ebb, beheld
The king my father wreck'd.

Alack, for mercy!
Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan
And his brave son being twain.

And his more braver daughter could control thee,

If now 'twere fit to do 't.



[Aside] The Duke of Milan

At the first sight


They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,

I'll set thee free for this.

[To Fer.] A word, good sir;

I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mir. Why speaks my father so ungently? This

Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first

That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father

To be inclined my way!


O, if a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The queen of Naples.

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Soft, sir! one word more.

[Aside] They are both in either's powers; but this swift business

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning


Make the prize light. [To Fer.] One word more; I charge


That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp

The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself

Upon this island as a spy, to win it

From me, the lord on 't.


No, as I am a man.

Mir. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple : If the ill spirit have so fair a house,

Good things will strive to dwell with 't.


Follow me.


Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come;
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:

Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.


I will resist such entertainment till

Mine enemy has more power.



[Draws, and is charmed from moving. Ó dear father,

What? I say

Make not too rash a trial of him, for

He's gentle and not fearful.


My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;

Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience
Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward,
For I can here disarm thee with this stick

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Pros. Hence hang not on my garments.


Beseech you, father.

Sir, have pity;

I'll be his surety.

Silence one word more

What !

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee.
An advocate for an impostor! hush!
Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban

And they to him are angels.


My affections

Are then most humble; I have no ambition

To see a goodlier man.



Come on; obey:

So they are;

Thy nerves are in their infancy again

And have no vigour in them.

My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,

The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

Pros. [Aside] It works. [To Fer.] Come on,
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel 1 [To Fer.] Follow me.
[To Ari.] Hark what thou else shalt do me.

My father's of a better nature, sir,

Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
Which now came from him.



Be of comfort;*

Thou shalt be as free

As mountain winds: but then exactly do
All points of my command.


To the syllable.

Pros. Come, follow. Speak not for him.


SCENE I. Another part of the island.

500 [Exeunt.


Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,

So have we all, of joy; for our escape

Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe

Is common; every day some sailor's wife,

The masters of some merchant and the merchant
Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,
Imean our preservation, few in millions

Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.


Prithee, peace.

Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.

Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.


Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit, by and by it will strike.

Gon. Sir,

Seb. One tell.

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer

Seb. A dollar.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed.


Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you


Gon. Therefore, my lord,

Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue !

Alon. I prithee, spare.

Gon. Well, I have done: but yet,

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first be

gins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

Ant. The cockerel.

Seb. Done. The wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match!

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,

Seb. Ha, ha, ha! So you're paid.

Seb. Yet,

Adr. Yet,


Adr. Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,

Ant. He could not miss't.


Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate tem


Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.

Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

Seb. As if it had lungs and rotten ones.

Ant. Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.

Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.

Ant. True; save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

Ant. The ground indeed is tawny.

Seb. With an eye of green in't.

Ant. He misses not much.

Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.


Gon. But the rarity of it is,-which is indeed almost beyond credit. -

Seb. As many vouched rarities are.

Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold nothwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water.

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