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This Island's mine by Sycorax my Mother,

Which thou tak'ft from me. When thou cameft firft
Thou ftroak'dft me, and mad'ft much of me; Would'ft give me
Water with Berries in't; And teach me how

To name the bigger Light, and how the lefs,
That burn by Day and Night: And then I lov'd thee,
And fhewed thee all the Qualities o' the Ifle,

The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren Place and fertile.
Curs'd be I that I did fo! All the Charms

Of Sycorax; Toads, Beetles, Bats light on you!
For I am all the Subjects that

you have,

Which firft was mine own King: And here you fty me
In this hard Rock, whiles you do keep from me
The reft of the Island.

Pro. Thou moft lying Slave,

Whom Stripes may move, not Kindness; I have us'd thee (Filth as thou art) with human Care, and lodg'd

In mine own Cell, 'till thou didst seek to violate

The Honour of my Child.

Cal. Oh ho, oh ho, would't had been done!
Thou didst prevent me, I had peopl'd elfe
This Ifle with Calibans.

Mira. Abhorred Slave,

Which any Print of Goodnefs will not take,
Being capable of all Ill: I pitied thee,

Took Pains to make thee fpeak, taught thee each Hour
One thing or other: When thou didst not, Savage,
Know thine own Meaning; but wouldft gabble, like
A thing moft bruitifh, I endow'd thy Purposes

With Words that made them known. But thy vile Race (Tho' thou didst learn) had that in't, which good Natures Could not abide to be with; therefore waft thou

Defervedly confin'd into this Rock, who hadft

Deferv'd more than a Prison.

Cal. You taught me Language, and my Profit on't Is, I know how to curfe: The Red-plague rid you For learning me your Language.

Pro. Hag-feed, hence!

Fetch us in Fewel, and be quick, thou wer't beft
To answer other Bufinefs: Shrug'ft thou, Malice?
If thou neglect'ft, or doft unwillingly

What

What I command, I'll rack thee with old Cramps,
Fill all thy Bones with Aches, make thee roar,
The Beatts fhall tremble at thy din.

Cal. No, 'pray thee.

I must obey, his Art is of fuch Pow'r,

It would control my Dam's God Setebos,

And make a Vaffal of him.

Pro. So Slave, hence.

[Exit Caliban.

Enter Ferdinand, and Ariel invisible, playing and finging.

ARIEL's SONG.

Come unto thefe yellow Sands,
And then take Hands:

Curt'fied when you have, and kist,

The wild Waves whift;

Foot it featly here and there, and sweet Sprights bear

The Burthen.

[Burthen difperfedly.

Hark, bark, bough-wawgh: The Watch-Dogs bark,

Bough-wawgh.

Ari. Hark, bark, I hear the Strain of ftrutting Chanticlere, Cry Cock-adoodle-do

Fer. Where should this Mufick be? I'th'Air, or th’Earth?
It founds no more: And fure it waits upon
Some God o'th' Ifland, fitting on a Bank,
Weeping against the King my Father's Wrack.
This Mufick crept by me upon the Waters,
Allaying both their Fury, and my Paffion
With its fweet Air: Thence I have follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me rather; but 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.

ARIEL'S SONG.
Full Fathom five thy Father lyes
Of his Bones are Coral made:
Thofe are Pearls that were his Eyes,
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth fuffer a Sea-change,
Into fomething rich, and strange.
Sea-Nymphs hourly ring his Knell.

[Burthen: Ding-dong.

Hark now I hear them, ding-dong Bell.

Fer

Fer. The Ditty does remember my drown'd Father; This is no mortal Bufinefs, nor no Sound

That the Earth owes: I hear it now above me.

Prò. The fringed Curtains of thine Eye advance, And fay what thou fee'ft yond.

Mira. 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 fleeps, and hath fuch Senfes As we have; fuch. This Gallant which thou feeft Was in the Wreck: And but he's fomething ftain'd With Grief (that's Beauty's Canker) thou might't call him A goodly Perfon. He hath loft his Fellows, And ftrays about to find 'em.

Mira. I might call him

A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever faw fo noble.

Pro. It goes on, I fee,

As my Soul prompts it: Spirit, fine Spirit, I'll free thee

Within two Days for this.

Fer. Moft fure the Goddefs
On whom these Ayres attend.

Vouchsafe my Pray'r
May know, if you remain upon this Ifland,
And that you will fome good Inftruction give
How I may bear me here: My prime Request
(Which I do laft pronounce) is, O you Wonder,
If you be made, or no?

Mira. No Wonder, Sir,
But certainly a Maid.

Fer. My Language! Heav'ns!

I am the best of them that fpeak this Speech,
Were I but where 'tis fpoken.

Pro. How? the best?

What wer't thou if the King of Naples heard thee?
Fer. A fingle thing, as I am now, that wonders
To hear thee fpeak of Naples. He does hear me;
And that he does, I weep: My felf am Naples,
Who, with mine Eyes (never fince at Ebb) beheld
The King my Father wrackt.

Mira. Alack, for Mercy.

Fer. Yes faith, and all his Lords, the Duke of Millan

VOL. I.

C

And

And his brave Son, being twain.

Pro. The Duke of Millan

And his more braver Daughter could controll thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't: At the first Sight
They have chang'd Eyes: Delicate Ariel,

I'll fet thee free for this. A Word, good Sir,
I fear you have done your felf fome Wrong: A Word.
Mira. Why fpeaks my Father fo ungently? This
Is the third Man that e'er I faw; the first

That e'er I figh'd for: Pity move my Father
To be enclin'd my way.

Fer. O, if a Virgin,

And your Affection not gone forth; I'll make you
The Queen of Naples.

Pro. Soft Sir, one Word more.

They are both in eithers Pow'r: But this fwift Business I must uneafie make, left too light winning

Make the Prize light. One Word more; I charge thee
That thou attend me; thou dost here ufurp

The Name thou ow'ft not, and haft put thy felf
Upon this Ifland, as a Spy, to win it

From me, the Lord on't.

Fer. No, as I am a Man.

Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in fuch a Temple. If the ill Spirit have fo fair an House,

Good things will ftrive to dwell with't.

Pro. Follow me.

Speak not you for him: He's a Traitor.

I'll manacle thy Neck and Feet together;

Come,

Sea-water fhalt thou drink, thy Food shall be

The fresh-brook Mufcles, wither'd Roots, and Husks
Wherein the Acorn cradled.. Follow.

Fer. No,

I will refift fuch Entertainment, 'till

Mine Enemy has more Pow'r.

[He draws, and is charmed from moving.

Mira. O dear Father,

Make not too rafh a Trial of him; for

He's gentle, and not fearful.

Pro. What I fay,

My Foot my Tutor? Put thy Sword up, Traitor,
Who mak'ft a Shew, but dar'ft not ftrike; thy Confcience

Is poffeft with Guilt: Come from thy Ward,
For I can here difarm thee with this Stick,
And make thy Weapon drop.

Mira. Befeech

you, Father.

Pro. Hence: Hang not on my Garments.
Mira. Sir, have Pity;

I'll be his Surety.

Pro. Silence: One Word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What,'
An Advocate for an Impoftor? Hufh!

Thou think'ft there are no more fuch Shapes as he,
(Having feen but him and Caliban) foolish Wench,
To th' moft of Men this is a Caliban,

And they to him are Angels.

Mira. My Affections

Are then moft humble: I have no Ambition

To fee a goodlier Man.

Pro. Come on, obey:

Thy Nerves are in their Infancy again,

And have no Vigour in them.

Fer. So they are:

My Spirits, as in a Dream, are all bound up.
My Father's lofs, the Weakness which I feel,
The Wrack of all my Friends, and this Man's Threats,
To whom I am fubdu'd, are but light to me,
Might I but through my Prison once a Day
Behold this Maid: All Corners elfe o' th' Earth
Let Liberty make use of; Space enough
Have I, in fuch a Prison.

Pro. It works: Come on.

Thou haft done well, fine Ariel: Follow me
Hark what thou elfe fhalt do me.

Mira. Be of Comfort,

My Father's of a better Nature, Sir,

Than he appears by Speech: This is unwonted
Which now came from him.

Pro. Thou shalt be as free

As Mountain Winds; but then exactly do

All Points of my Command.

Ari. To th' Syllable.

Pro. Come follow: Speak not for him.

C 2

[Exeunt.

ACT

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