( This Island's mine by Sycorax my Mother, The rest of the Island. Pro. Thou most lying Slave, Whom Stripes may move, not Kindness; I have us'd thee Cal. Oh ho, oh ho, would't had been done! Mira. Abhorred Slave, 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-feed, hence! Fetch us in Fewel, and be quick, thou wer't best What What I command, I'll rack thee with old Cramps, Cal. No, 'pray thee. I must obey, his Art is of such Pow'r, Pro. So Slave, hence. [Exit Caliban. Enter Ferdinand, and Ariel invisible, playing and finging. ARIEL'S SONG. Come unto these 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 [Burthen dispersedly. Hark, hark, bough-wawgh: The Watch-Dogs bark, Bough-wawgh. Ari. Hark, hark, I hear the Strain of strutting Chanticlere, Cry Cock-adoodle-do Fer. Where should this Musick be? I'th'Air, or th'Earth? It founds no more: And sure it waits upon Some God o'th' Island, fitting on a Bank, Weeping against the King my Father's Wrack. This Musick crept by me upon the Waters, Allaying both their Fury, and my Paffion With its sweet 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 Nothing of him that doth fade, Into fomething rich, and strange. Sea-Nymphs hourly ring his Knell. [Burthen: Ding-dong. Fer Hark now I hear them, ding-dong Bell. Fer. The Ditty does remember my drown'd Father; Prò. The fringed Curtains of thine Eye advance, And say what thou see'st yond. : Mira. What is't, a Spirit? Pro. No Wench, it eats, and fleeps, and hath such Senses As we have; fuch. 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 'em. Mira. I might call him A thing divine, for nothing natural Pro. It goes on, I fee, As my Soul prompts it: Spirit, fine Spirit, I'll free thee Within two Days for this. Fer. Most sure the Goddefs On whom these Ayres attend. Vouchsafe my Pray'r May know, if you remain upon this Island, If you be made, or no? Mira. No Wonder, Sir, But certainly a Maid. : Fer. My Language! Heav'ns! Were I but where 'tis spoken. 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 speak of Naples. He does hear me; And that he does, I weep: My self 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, Fer. O, if a Virgin, And your Affection not gone forth; I'll make you Pro. Soft Sir, one Word more. They are both in eithers Pow'r: But this swift Business I must uneasie make, lest 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'st not, and haft put thy felf Upon this Island, 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 such a Temple. If the ill Spirit have fo fair an House, Good things will strive to dwell with't. Pro. 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. Fer. No, I will resist such Entertainment, 'till Mine Enemy has more Pow'r. [He draws, and is charmed from moving. Mira. O dear Father, : Make not too rash a Trial of him; for He's gentle, and not fearful. Pro. What I say, My Foot my Tutor? Put thy Sword up, Traitor, Who mak'st a Shew, but dar'st not ftrike; thy Confcience Is possest with Guilt: Come from thy Ward, And make thy Weapon drop. Mira. Beseech you, Father. Pro. Hence: Hang not on my Garments. I'll be his Surety. : Pro. Silence: One Word more Thou think'st there are no more such Shapes as he, And they to him are Angels. Mira. My Affections Are then most 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. Pro. It works: Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariel: Follow me? 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. 1 [Exeunt. |