Imatges de pàgina
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I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,

I flam'd 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-out-running were not: The fire, and cracks

Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune

Seem'd to besiege, and to make his bold waves tremble, Yea, his dread trident shake.

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But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd

Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners,
Plung'd 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 leap'd; cried, Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.

PRO.

But was not this nigh shore?

ARI. Close by, my master.

Why, that's my spirit!

PRO. But are they, Ariel, safe?
ARI.

Not a hair perish'd ;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and as thou bad'st me,

In troops I have dispers'd 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.

PRO.

The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd,

And all the rest o' the fleet?

ARI.

Of the king's ship,

Safely in harbour

Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid:
The mariners all under hatches stow'd;

Who, with a charm joined to their suffer'd labour,

I have left asleep and for the rest o' the fleet,
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again;
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples;

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

PRO.

Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is perform'd; 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 promis'd,

Which is not yet perform'd me.

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I

pray thee

ARI.
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst promise

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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 bak'd with frost.

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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?
ARI. No, sir.

PRO. Thou hast where was she born? speak; tell me.
ARI. Sir, in Argier.

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Once in a month, recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forget'st. This vile witch, Sycorax,
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 earthly and abhorr'd 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
Imprison'd, 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 honour'd with

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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

Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

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