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.

290

Pardon, master :

Do so; and after two days

I will discharge thee.
ARI.
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.

We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood; and serves in offices
That profit us. What hoa! slave! Caliban!

Thou earth, thou! speak.

CAL. [within.]

There's wood enough within.

PRO. Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee :
Come forth, thou tortoise! when?

Re-enter ARIEL, like a Water-nymph.

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

Hark in thine ear.

ARI.

My lord, it shall be done.

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.

330

This Island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
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 qualities 2 o' the Isle,

ACT I
Sc. II

The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and fertile;

Curs'd be I that I did so!-All the charms

340

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

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.

Which any print of goodness will not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,

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

350

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 you
For learning me your language!

PRO.

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

360

What I command, I'll rack thee with old1 cramps; 370
Fill all thy bones with achës: make thee roar

That beasts shall tremble at thy din !

CAL.

No, 'pray thee!

[aside.] I must obey: his art is of such power,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,

And make a vassal of him.

PRO.

So, slave; hence !

[Exit CALIBAN.

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 passion1
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.

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

ACT I
Sc. II

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

410

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

A thing divine; for nothing natural

I ever saw so noble.

PRO. [aside.]

It goes on, I see,

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

420

Spirit, fine Spirit! I'll free thee

Most sure, the goddess
Vouchsafe my prayer

On whom these airs attend!
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 ?

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!

FER. Yes, faith, and all his Lords; the Duke of Milan

And his brave son being twain.

430