Their manners are of a more gentle kind,

Than of our human generation you shall find

Many,-nay, almost any.

Thou hast said well; for some of you there present

Are worse than devils.

ALON.

I cannot too much muse,

Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing (Although they want the use of tongue) a kind

Of excellent dumb discourse.

PRO.

Praise in departing. [Iside.

No matter, since

FRAN. They vanish'd strangely.
SEB.

They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.-
Will't please you taste of what is here?

ALON.

Not I.

GON. Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,
Who would believe that there were mountaineers,
Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at them
Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men,

Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find,
Each putter-out on five for one, will bring us

Good warrant of.

ALON.

I will stand to, and feed,

Although my last no matter, since I feel

The best is past:-Brother, my lord the duke,
Stand to, and do as we.

Thunder and Lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a Harpy; claps his wings upon the table, and, by a quaint device, the Banquet vanishes.

ARI. You are three men of sin, whom destiny,
(That hath to instrument this lower world,
And what is in't,) the never-surfeited sea
Hath caused to belch up; and on this island

63

Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men

Being most unfit to live. I have made

you

mad;

[Seeing ALON. SEB. Sc., draw their swords.

And even with such like valour, men hang and drown
Their proper selves. You fools! I and my fellows
Are ministers of fate; the elements

Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well
Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at-stabs
Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish

One dowle that's in my plume; my fellow-ministers
Are like invulnerable: if you could hurt,
Your swords are now too massy for your strengths,
And will not be uplifted. But, remember,

(For that's my business to you,) that you three
From Milan did supplant good Prospero ;
Expos'd unto the sea, (which hath requit it,)
Him, and his innocent child: for which foul deed
The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have
Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures
Against your peace. Thee, of thy son, Alonzo,
They have bereft; and do pronounce by me,
Lingering perdition (worse than any death
Can be at once,) shall step by step attend

You, and your ways; whose wraths to guard you ́from
(Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls
Upon your heads,) is nothing, but heart's sorrow,
And a clear life ensuing.

Ile vanishes in Thunder: then, to soft music, enter the Shapes again, and dance with mops and mowes, and curry out the table.

PRO. [Aside] Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou
Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring.

Of my instruction hast thou nothing 'bated,
In what thou hadst to say so, with good life,
And observation strange, my meaner ministers

Their several kinds have done: my high charms work,
And these, mine enemies, are all knit up

In their distractions! they are now in my power;

And in these fits I leave them, whilst I visit

Young Ferdinand, (whom they suppose is drown'd,)
And his and my loved darling.

[Exit PROSPERO. GON. I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand you In this strange stare?

ALON.

O, it is monstrous! monstrous!

Methought, the billows spoke, and told me of it;
The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd
The name of Prosper; it did base my trespass.
Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded; and
I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded,
And with him there lie mudded.

SEB.

I'll fight their legions o'er.

ANT.

[Exit.

But one fiend at a time,

I'll be thy second.

[Exeunt SEB. and ANT.

GON. All three of them are desperate; their great guilt,

Like poison given to work a great time after,

Now 'gins to bite the spirits: I do beseech you

That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly,
And hinder them from what this ecstasy

May now provoke them to.

ADR.

Follow, I pray you. [Exeunt.

F I have too austerely punish'd you,
Your compensation makes amends; for I
Have given you here a thread of mine own life,
Or that for which I live; whom once again

I tender to thy hand. All thy vexations

Were but my trials of thy love, and thou

Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore Heaven,

I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,

Do not smile at me, that I boast her off,