Ari. To every article.

I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flamed amazement: sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the top-mast,
The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not the fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seemed to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,
Yea, his dread trident shake.

Pro.
My brave spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil

Would not infect his reason?

Ari.

Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and played Some tricks of desperation: all, but mariners, Plunged in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring, (then like reeds, not hair,) Was the first man that leaped; cried, "Hell is empty, And all the devils are here."

Pro.

But was not this nigh shore?

Ari.

Pro.

Ari.

Why, that's my spirit!

Close by, my master.

Not a hair perished;

But are they, Ariel, safe?

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,
In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle :
The king's son have I landed by himself;
Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs,
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot.

Ari.
Safely in the harbor
Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou calledst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vexed Bermoothes, there she's hid:
The mariners all under hatches stowed;

Whom, with a charm joined to their suffered labor,
I have left asleep and for the rest o' the fleet,

Which I dispersed, they all have met again;
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples ;

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wrecked,
And his great person perish.

Pro.

Ariel, thy charge Exactly is performed; but there's more work: What is the time o' the day?

Ari.

Past the mid season.

Pro. At least two glasses: the time 'twixt six 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 promised,

Which is not yet performed me.

Pro.

What is 't thou canst demand?

Ari.

How now moody?

My liberty.

Pro. Before the time be out? no more.
Ari.

I pray thee

Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, served
Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise
To bate me a full year.

Pro.

Dost thou forget

No.

From what a torment I did free thee?

Ari.

Pro. Thou dost; and think'st

It much, to tread the ooze of the salt deep;
To run upon the sharp wind of the north;
To do me business in the veins o' the earth,
When it is baked with frost.

I do not, sir.

Ari.
Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot
The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age and envy
Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her?

No, sir.

Ari.
Pro. Thou hast: where was she born? speak; tell me
Ari. Sir, in Argier.

Pro.

Oh, was she so? I must,
Once in a month, recount what thou hast been,

Which thou forget'st. This damned witch, Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible

To enter human hearing, from Argier,

Thou know'st, was banished; for one thing she did,
They would not take her life: is not this true?

Ari. Aye, sir.

Pro. This blue-eyed 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 abhorred commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,

Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprisoned, thou didst painfully remain

A dozen years; within which space she died,

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 freckled whelp, hag-born,) not honored with
A human shape.

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 damned, which Sycorax
Could not again undo; it was mine art,
When I arrived, and heard thee, that made
The pine, and let thee out.

gape

Ari.
I thank thee, master.
Pro. If thou more murmurest, I will rend an oak,
And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till

Thou hast howled away twelve winters.

Ari,

Pardon, master:

Do so; and after two days

That's my noble master!

What shall I do? say what? what shall I do?

Pro. Go make thyself like to a nymph of the sca ;

Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible
To every eyeball else. Go, take this shape,
And hither come in 't: hence, with diligence.

SHAKSPEARE

THE PUNNING MESSENGER.

SPEED PROTEUS.

Speed. Sir Proteus, save you saw you my master? Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark for Milan. Speed. Twenty to one, then, he is shipped already; And I have played the sheep in losing him.

Pro. Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray,

An if the shepherd be awhile away.

Speed. You conclude that my master is a shepherd, then, and I a sheep?

Pro. I do.

Speed. Why, then, my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep.

Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep.

Speed. This proves me still a sheep.

Pro. True, and thy master a shepherd.

Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.

Pro. It shall go hard, but I'll prove it by another.

Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me. therefore, I am no sheep.

Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd; the shepherd for food follows not the sheep: thou for wages followest thy master; thy master for wages follows not thee: therefore, thou art a sheep.

Speed. Such another proof will make me cry baa.

Pro. But dost thou hear? gav'st thou my letter to Julia? Speed. Ay, sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a aced mutton; and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labor.

Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such a store of muttons Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her. Pro. Nay, in that you are astray; 't were best pound you. Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter.

Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound, a pinfold.

Speed. From a pound to a pin ? fold it over and over; 'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover. Pro. But what said she? did she nod?

Speed. I.

Pro. Nod, I? why, that's noddy.

(Speed nols.)

Speed You mistook, sir; I say, she did nod: and you ask

me, if she did nod; and I say, I.

Pro. And that set together, is-noddy.

Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take

it for your pains.

Pro. No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter.

Speed. Well, I perceive, I must be fain to bear with you.
Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me?

Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very orderly; having nothing bur the word, noddy, for my pains.

Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.

Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.

Pro. Come, come, open the matter in brief: what said she? Speed. Open your purse, that the money and the matter may be both at once delivered.

Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains: what said she?
Speed. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her.

Pro. Why? couldst thou perceive so much from her? Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter: and being so hard to me that brought your mind, I fear she 'll prove as hard to you in telling her mind. Give her no token but stones; fo

she 's as hard as steel.

Pro. What, said she nothing?

Speed. No, not so much as "Take this for thy pains." To testify your bounty, I thank you; you have testerned me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master.

Pro. Go, go, begone, to save your ship from wreck ;
Which cannot perish, having thee aboard,
Being destined to a drier death on shore.
I must go send some better messenger;
I fear, my Julia would not deign my lines,
Receiving them from such a worthless post.

SHAKSPEARE

INDICATIONS OF BEING IN LOVE.

SPEED- VALENTINE.

Speed. Sir, your glove.

Val. Not mine; my gloves are on.

Speed. Why, then, this may be yours, for this is but one.
Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me; it's mine: -

Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!

Ah, Silvia! Silvia!