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I must ooey: his art is of such power,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.
Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing and singing; lowing him.
Fer. Where should this music be? i' the air, or the earth?
It sounds no more:-and sure it waits upon
Some god of 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.
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:
Hark! now I hear them, ding-dong, bell.
Fer. The dittty does remember my drown'd father :—
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owns :-I hear it now above me.
Pro. The fringed curtain of thine eye advance And say, what thou seest yond.
What is't? a spirit? See, 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 seest,
Was in the wreck; 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 them.
A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.
Pro. [Aside.] It goes on, I see,
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?
No wonder, sir;
But, certainly a maid.
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, ne'er 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.
The duke of Milan,
And his more braver daughter, could control thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't :—At the first sight
They have chang'd eyes:-Delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this!-A word, good sir;
I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mira. 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 inclin'd my way!
O, if a virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The queen of Naples.
Soft, sir; one word more.-
They are both in either's powers; but this swift business
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
Make the prize light.-One word more; I charge thee,
That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
The name thou ow'st 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.
Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple : If the ill spirit have so fair an house,
Good things will strive to dwell with't.
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.
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful.*
What, I say,
My foot my tutor! Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience
Is so possess'd with guilt: come; from thy ward;
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.
Beseech you, father!
Pro. Hence; hang not on my garments.
Sir, have pity,
I'll be his surety.
Silence! one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an impostor? hush!
Thou think'st there are 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.
Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.
Come on; obey:
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigor in them.
So they are:
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, or 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 of the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I, in such a prison.
It works:-Come on.-
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!-Follow me.-
Hark, what thou else shalt do me.
Be of comfort;
My father's of a better nature, sir,
[To FERD. and MIR. [TO ARIEL.
Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.
Thou shalt be as free
As mountain winds; but then exactly do
All points of my command.
To the syllable. Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him.
Ferdinand is compelled, by the power of Prospero, to assume the menial employmen of an attendant on the Magician, the more readily to bring the young Prince into an acquaintance with Miranda, who regards him with affection.
SCENE I.-Before Prospero's Cell.
Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log.
Fer. There be some sports are painful; but their labor
Delight in them sets off; some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters
Point to rich ends. This my mean task would be
As heavy to me, as 'tis odious; but
The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labors pleasures: O, she is
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed;
And he's compos'd of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,
Upon a sore injunction: My sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work; and says, such baseness
Had ne'er like executor. I forget:
But these sweet thoughts do even efresh my labors ;
Most busy, least when I do it.
Enter MIRANDA, and PROSPERO at a distance.
Alas, now! pray you
Work not so hard; I would the lightning had
Burnt up those logs, that you are enjoin'd to pile!
Pray, set it down, and rest you: when this burns,
'Twill weep for having wearied you: My father
Is hard at study; pray now, rest
He's safe for these three hours.
O most dear mistress,
The sun will set, before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.
If you'll sit down,
I'll bear your logs the while: Pray, give me that;
I'll carry it to the pile.
No precious creature! I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonor undergo,
While I sit lazy by.
As well as it does you
With much more ease;
And yours it is against.
It would become me
and I should do it
for my good will is to it,
Poor worm! thou art infected;
You look wearily.
This visitation shows it.
Fer. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me
When you are by at night. I do beseech you,
(Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,)
What is your name?
Miranda :-O my father,
I have broke your hest to say so!
Admir'd Miranda !
Indeed, the top of admiration; worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues
Have I lik'd several women; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd,
And put it to the foil: But you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best.
I do not know
One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen
More that I may call men, han you, good friend,
And my dear father: how features are abroad,
I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,
(The jewel in my dower,) I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you;
Nor can imagination form a shape,
Beside yourself, to like of; But I prattle
Something too widely, and my father's precepts
I therein do forget.
I am, in my condition, A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king; (I would, not so!) and would no more endure
This wooden slavery, than I would suffer
The flesh-fly blow my mouth.-Hear my soul speak ;
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service; there resides,
To make me slave to it; and for your sake,
Am I this patient log-man.
Do you love me?