Some Food we had, and some fresh Water, that Out of his Charity (who being then appointed Mir. Would I might But ever fee that Man. Pro. Now I arife, Sit still, and hear the last of our Sea-forrow. Have I, thy School-mafter, made thee more profit Mira. Heav'ns thank you for't. And now I pray you, Sir, (For still 'tis beating in my Mind) your Reason For raising this Sea-ftorm? Pro. Know thus far forth, By Accident most strange, bountiful Fortune Enter Ariel. Ari. All hail, great Master, grave Sir, hail! I come To answer thy best Pleasure. Be it 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. Haft, thou, Spirit, Perform'd to point the Tempest that I bad thee? Ari. To every Article. i 4 I boarded the King's Ship: Now on the Beak, Pro. My brave Spirit. Who was so firm, so conftant, that this Coyl Ari. Not a Soul But felt a Feaver of the mad, and plaid Some Tricks of Desperation: All but Mariners Pro. Why that's my Spirit: But was not this nigh Shore? On their sustaining Garments not a Blemish, Pro. Of the King's Ship, Ari. Safely in Harbour, Is the King's Ship; in the deep Nook, where once The The Mariners all under Hatches stowed, Who, with a Charm join'd to their suffered Labour, (Which I difpers'd) they all have met again, And are upon the Mediterranean Flote, Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the King's Ship wrackt, And his great Person perish. : Pro. Ariel, thy Charge Exactly is perform'd; but there's more Work: What is the Time o'th' Day? Ari. Past the mid Seafon. Pro. At least two Glasses: The time 'twixt fix 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? moodie? What is't thou canst demand? Ari. My Liberty. Pro. Before the time be out? No more. Remember I have done thee worthy Service, Told thee no Lies, made thee no Mistakings, serv'd Without or Grudge, or Grumblings; thou didst promife To bate me a full Year. Pro. Dost thou forget From what a Torment I did free thee? Ari. No. Pro. Thou dost; and thinkest it much to tread the Ooze of the falt Deep; To run upon the sharp Wind of the North, To do me Business in the Veins o'th' Earth When it is bak'd with Froft. Ari. I do not, Sir. Pro. Thou lieft, malignant Thing: Haft 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. Pro. Oh, was she so: I must Once Once in a Month recount what thou hast been, Ari. Ay, Sir. Pro. This blue-ey'd Hag was hither brought with Child And here was left byth Sailors; thou my Slave, As thou report'st thy self, wast then her Servant. And, for thou wast a Spirit too delicate To act her carthy and abhor'd Commands, Refusing her grand Hefts, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent Minifters, And in her most unmittigable Rage, Into a cloven Pyne; within which Rift Imprison'd, thou didst painfully remain A dozen Years; within which Space the dy'd, And left thee there: Where thou didst vent thy Groans As fast as Mill Wheels strike. Then was this Island (Save for the Son that she did litter here A frekel'd Whelp, hag-born) not honour'd with A human Shape. Ari, Yes; Caliban her Son. Pro. Dull Thing, I say so: He, that Caliban Ari. I thank thee, Master. Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an Oak And peg thee in his knotty Entrails, 'till Ari. Pardon, Master. Pro. Do fo: And after two Days I will discharge thee. : Ari. Ari. That's my noble Master: What shall I do? Say what? What shall I do? Pro. Go make thy self like to a Nymph o'th' Sea. Be subject to no Sight but thine, and mine: Invisible And hither come in't: Go, hence With Diligence. [Exit. Pro. 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 vifit Caliban, my Slave, who never Mira. 'Tis a Villain, Sir, I do not love to look on. We cannot miss him: He does make our Fire, That profit us. What hoa! Slave! Caliban! Cal. (within.) There's Wood enough within. Come thou Tortoys, when? Enter Ariel like a Water-Nymph. Fine Apparition: My quaint Ariel, Heark in thine Ear. Ari. My Lord, it shall be done. [Exit. 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 Ravens Feather from unwholsome Fen, Pro. For this, be sure, to Night thou shalt have Cramps, Than Bees that made 'em. Cal. I must eat my Dinner; |