Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st 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 Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. What shall I do? say? what shall I do? Pro. Go make thyself like to a nymph o' the sea; Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible To every eyeball else. Go, take this shape, And hither come in 't: hence, with diligence. (Exit Ariel.) Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Mira. The strangeness of your story put 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. Cali. (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. Cali. 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; urchins 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 stinging Cali. 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, And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fertile; Cursed be I that did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest of the island. Pro. Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness,-I have us'd thee, Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodg'd thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child. Cali. O ho, O ho! would it had been done! Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. Which any print of goodness will not take, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour 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. Cali. 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, What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps; That beasts shall tremble at thy din. I must obey his art is of such power, (Aside.) : It would controul 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; Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd (The wild waves whist) Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Hark, hark! Burthen. Bowgh, wowgh. (dispersedly) The watch-dogs bark: Bur. Bowgh, wowgh. Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticlere Fer. Where should this music be? i' the air, or the earth? ARIEL sings. Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into some rich thing and strange. Hark! now I hear them,-ding, dong, bell. (Burden, Ding-dong. Fer. The ditty does remember my drowned father. This is no mortal business, nor no sound Mira. Lord, how it looks about! What is 't? a spirit? It carries a brave form :-but 't is 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 mightst call him A goodly person he hath lost his fellows, And strays about to find them. Mira. I might call him A thing divine; for nothing natural I ever saw so noble. Pro. It goes on, (aside.) As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Fer. 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 instructions give, How I may bear me here. My prime request, Mira. Fer. No wonder, sir; My language! heavens ! |