corax,

For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,

Thou know'st, was banish'd; for one thing she did,

They would not take her life: Is not this true? Ari. Ay, sir.

Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought
with child,

And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant:
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hefts, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd, thou did'st painfully remain
A dozen years; within which space she died,
And left thee there; where thou did'st vent thy
groans,

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

But, as 'tis,

Pro.
We cannot miss him; he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood; and serves in offices
That profit us. What ho! 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. [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 raven's feather from unwholesome fen, Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o'er!

Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,

Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; ur

chins

Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more sting-
ing
Than bees that made them.

Cal.
I must eat my dinner.
This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest
first,

Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st 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,

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 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
Deservedly 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 wert best, To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice? If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly, What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps; Fill all thy bones with aches; make thee roar, That beasts shall tremble at thy din. Cal. No, pray thee!I must obey: his art is of such power, [Aside. It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him.

Pro.

So, slave; hence!

[Exit Caliban.

Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND following him.

ARIEL'S SONG.

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:

Curt'sied when you have, and kiss'd,

(The wild waves whist,)

Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burden beur.
Ilark, hark!

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:
Hurk! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell.
[Burden, ding-dong.

Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father:

This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes:-I hear it now above me.
Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye ad-

vances

SCENE I.

Another part of the Island.

Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others.

Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks? how

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb. With an eye of green in't.

Ant. He misses not much.

Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth to tally.

Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is indeed almost beyond credit)

Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are.

Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness, and glosses; being rather new dy'd, than stain'd with salt water.

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, he lies?

Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his re port.

Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh

offer'd,

Gon. Therefore, my lord,—

marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis.

Seb. Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time.
Ant. Widow? a pox o'that! How came that

tongue!

Alon. I pr'ythee, spare.

Gon. Well, I have done: But yet—

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good

wager, first begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

Ant. The cockrel.

Seb. Done: The wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match.

Seb. What if he had said, widower Æneas too? good lord how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Adr. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp.

Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too. Ant. What impossible matter will he make

Ant. So, you've pay'd.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inacces sible,

Seb. Yet,

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not miss it.

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple. Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.

Gon. Ay?

Ant. Why, in good time.

Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seem now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen.

Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.
Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.
Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the