SCENE: A ship at sea; afterwards an uninhabited island    THE TEMPEST ACT I. SCENE 1  On a ship at sea; a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard  Enter a SHIPMASTER and a BOATSWAIN    MASTER. Boatswain!   BOATSWAIN. Here, master; what cheer?   MASTER. Good! Speak to th' mariners; fall to't yarely, or     we run ourselves aground; bestir, bestir.               Exit                         Enter MARINERS    BOATSWAIN. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!     yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to th' master's     whistle. Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough.            Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND                      GONZALO, and OTHERS    ALONSO. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master?     Play the men.   BOATSWAIN. I pray now, keep below.   ANTONIO. Where is the master, boson?   BOATSWAIN. Do you not hear him? You mar our labour;     keep your cabins; you do assist the storm.   GONZALO. Nay, good, be patient.   BOATSWAIN. When the sea is. Hence! What cares these     roarers for the name of king? To cabin! silence! Trouble     us not.   GONZALO. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.   BOATSWAIN. None that I more love than myself. You are     counsellor; if you can command these elements to     silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not     hand a rope more. Use your authority; if you cannot, give     thanks you have liv'd so long, and make yourself ready     in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so     hap.-Cheerly, good hearts!-Out of our way, I say.  Exit   GONZALO. I have great comfort from this fellow. Methinks     he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is     perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging;     make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth     little advantage. If he be not born to be hang'd, our     case is miserable.                                    Exeunt                       Re-enter BOATSWAIN    BOATSWAIN. Down with the topmast. Yare, lower, lower!     Bring her to try wi' th' maincourse.  [A cry within]  A     plague upon this howling! They are louder than the     weather or our office.             Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO      Yet again! What do you here? Shall we give o'er, and     drown? Have you a mind to sink?   SEBASTIAN. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,     incharitable dog!   BOATSWAIN. Work you, then.   ANTONIO. Hang, cur; hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker;     we are less afraid to be drown'd than thou art.   GONZALO. I'll warrant him for drowning, though the ship were     no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched     wench.   BOATSWAIN. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; set her two courses; off     to sea again; lay her off.                      Enter MARINERS, Wet   MARINERS. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!                                                           Exeunt   BOATSWAIN. What, must our mouths be cold?   GONZALO. The King and Prince at prayers!     Let's assist them,     For our case is as theirs.   SEBASTIAN. I am out of patience.   ANTONIO. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards.     This wide-chopp'd rascal-would thou mightst lie drowning     The washing of ten tides!   GONZALO. He'll be hang'd yet,     Though every drop of water swear against it,     And gape at wid'st to glut him.     [A confused noise within: Mercy on us!     We split, we split! Farewell, my wife and children!     Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we split!]   ANTONIO. Let's all sink wi' th' King.   SEBASTIAN. Let's take leave of him.                                     Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN   GONZALO. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for     an acre of barren ground-long heath, brown furze, any     thing. The wills above be done, but I would fain die     dry death.                                            Exeunt     SCENE 2  The Island. Before PROSPERO'S cell  Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA    MIRANDA. If by your art, my dearest father, you have     Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.     The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,     But that the sea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek,     Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered     With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel,     Who had no doubt some noble creature in her,     Dash'd all to pieces! O, the cry did knock     Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perish'd.     Had I been any god of power, I would     Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere     It should the good ship so have swallow'd and     The fraughting souls within her.   PROSPERO. Be conected;     No more amazement; tell your piteous heart     There's no harm done.   MIRANDA. O, woe the day!   PROSPERO. No harm.     I have done nothing but in care of thee,     Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who     Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing     Of whence I am, nor that I am more better     Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,     And thy no greater father.   MIRANDA. More to know     Did never meddle with my thoughts.   PROSPERO. 'Tis time     I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,     And pluck my magic garment from me. So,                                           [Lays down his mantle]     Lie there my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.     The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd     The very virtue of compassion in thee,     I have with such provision in mine art     So safely ordered that there is no soul-     No, not so much perdition as an hair     Betid to any creature in the vessel     Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink.     Sit down, for thou must now know farther.   MIRANDA. You have often     Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd,     And left me to a bootless inquisition,     Concluding 'Stay; not yet.'   PROSPERO. The hour's now come;     The very minute bids thee ope thine ear.     Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember     A time before we came unto this cell?     I do not think thou canst; for then thou wast not     Out three years old.   MIRANDA. Certainly, sir, I can.   PROSPERO. By what? By any other house, or person?     Of any thing the image, tell me, that     Hath kept with thy remembrance?   MIRANDA. 'Tis far off,     And rather like a dream than an assurance     That my remembrance warrants. Had I not     Four, or five, women once, that tended me?   PROSPERO. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it     That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else     In the dark backward and abysm of time?     If thou rememb'rest aught, ere thou cam'st here,     How thou cam'st here thou mayst.   MIRANDA. But that I do not.   PROSPERO. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,     Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and     A prince of power.   MIRANDA. Sir, are not you my father?   PROSPERO. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and     She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father     Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir     And princess no worse issued.   MIRANDA. O, the heavens!     What foul play had we that we came from thence?     Or blessed was't we did?   PROSPERO. Both, both, my girl.     By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence;     But blessedly holp hither.   MIRANDA. O, my heart bleeds     To think o' th' teen that I have turn'd you to,     Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.   PROSPERO. My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio-     I pray thee, mark me that a brother should     Be so perfidious. He, whom next thyself     Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put     The manage of my state; as at that time     Through all the signories it was the first,     And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed     In dignity, and for the liberal arts     Without a parallel, those being all my study-     The government I cast upon my brother     And to my state grew stranger, being transported     And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle-     Dost thou attend me?   MIRANDA. Sir, most heedfully.   PROSPERO. Being once perfected how to grant suits,     How to deny them, who t' advance, and who     To trash for over-topping, new created     The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em,     Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key     Of officer and office, set all hearts i' th' state     To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was     The ivy which had hid my princely trunk     And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not.   MIRANDA. O, good sir, I do!   PROSPERO. I pray thee, mark me.     I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated     To closeness and the bettering of my mind     With that which, but by being so retir'd,     O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother     Awak'd an evil nature; and my trust,     Like a good parent, did beget of him     A falsehood, in its contrary as great     As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,     A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,     Not only with what my revenue yielded,     But what my power might else exact, like one     Who having into truth, by telling of it,     Made such a sinner of his memory,     To credit his own lie-he did believe     He was indeed the Duke; out o' th' substitution,     And executing th' outward face of royalty     With all prerogative. Hence his ambition growing-     Dost thou hear?   MIRANDA. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.   PROSPERO. To have no screen between this part he play'd     And him he play'd it for, he needs will be     Absolute Milan. Me, poor man-my library     Was dukedom large enough-of temporal royalties     He thinks me now incapable; confederates,     So dry he was for sway, wi' th' King of Naples,     To give him annual tribute, do him homage,     Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend     The dukedom, yet unbow'd-alas, poor Milan!-     To most ignoble stooping.   MIRANDA. O the heavens!   PROSPERO. Mark his condition, and th' event, then tell me     If this might be a brother.   MIRANDA. I should sin     To think but nobly of my grandmother:     Good wombs have borne bad sons.   PROSPERO. Now the condition:     This King of Naples, being an enemy     To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;     Which was, that he, in lieu o' th' premises,     Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,     Should presently extirpate me and mine     Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan     With all the honours on my brother. Whereon,     A treacherous army levied, one midnight     Fated to th' purpose, did Antonio open     The gates of Milan; and, i' th' dead of darkness,     The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence     Me and thy crying self.   MIRANDA. Alack, for pity!     I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then,     Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint     That wrings mine eyes to't.   PROSPERO. Hear a little further,     And then I'll bring thee to the present busines     Which now's upon 's; without the which this story     Were most impertinent.   MIRANDA. Wherefore did they not     That hour destroy us?   PROSPERO. Well demanded, wench!     My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,     So dear the love my people bore me; nor set     A mark so bloody on the business; but     With colours fairer painted their foul ends.     In few, they hurried us aboard a bark;     Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared     A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigg'd,     Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats     Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,     To cry to th' sea, that roar'd to us; to sigh     To th' winds, whose pity, sighing back again,     Did us but loving wrong.   MIRANDA. Alack, what trouble     Was I then to you!   PROSPERO. O, a cherubin     Thou wast that did preserve me! Thou didst smile,     Infused with a fortitude from heaven,     When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,     Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me     An undergoing stomach, to bear up     Against what should ensue.   MIRANDA. How came we ashore?   PROSPERO. By Providence divine.     Some food we had and some fresh water that     A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,     Out of his charity, who being then appointed     Master of this design, did give us, with     Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,     Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,     Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me     From mine own library with volumes that     I prize above my dukedom.   MIRANDA. Would I might     But ever see that man!   PROSPERO. Now I arise.                    [Puts on his mantle]     Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.     Here in this island we arriv'd; and here     Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit     Than other princess' can, that have more time     For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.   MIRANDA. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you,       sir,     For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason     For raising this sea-storm?   PROSPERO. Know thus far forth:     By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,     Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies     Brought to this shore; and by my prescience     I find my zenith doth depend upon     A most auspicious star, whose influence     If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes     Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions;     Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dullness,     And give it way. I know thou canst not choose.                                                 [MIRANDA sleeps]     Come away, servant; come; I am ready now.     Approach, my Ariel. Come.                          Enter ARIEL    ARIEL. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come     To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,     To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride     On the curl'd clouds. To thy strong bidding task     Ariel and all his quality.   PROSPERO. Hast thou, spirit,     Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?   ARIEL. To every article.     I boarded the King's ship; now on the beak,     Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,     I flam'd amazement. Sometime I'd divide,     And burn in many places; on the topmast,     The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,     Then meet and join Jove's lightning, the precursors     O' th' dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary     And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks     Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune     Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,     Yea, his dread trident shake.   PROSPERO. My brave spirit!     Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil     Would not infect his reason?   ARIEL. Not a soul     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 afire with me; the King's son, Ferdinand,     With hair up-staring-then like reeds, not hair-     Was the first man that leapt; cried 'Hell is empty,     And all the devils are here.'   PROSPERO. Why, that's my spirit!     But was not this nigh shore?   ARIEL. Close by, my master.   PROSPERO. But are they, Ariel, safe?   ARIEL. 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.   PROSPERO. Of the King's ship,     The mariners, say how thou hast dispos'd,     And all the rest o' th' fleet?   ARIEL. 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 stowed,     Who, with a charm join'd to their suff'red labour,     I have left asleep; and for the rest o' th' 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 wreck'd,     And his great person perish.   PROSPERO. Ariel, thy charge     Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work.     What is the time o' th' day?   ARIEL. Past the mid season.   PROSPERO. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now     Must by us both be spent most preciously.   ARIEL. 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.   PROSPERO. How now, moody?     What is't thou canst demand?   ARIEL. My liberty.   PROSPERO. Before the time be out? No more!   ARIEL. I prithee,     Remember I have done thee worthy service,     Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd     Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst promise     To bate me a full year.   PROSPERO. Dost thou forget     From what a torment I did free thee?   ARIEL. No.   PROSPERO. 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' th' earth     When it is bak'd with frost.   ARIEL. I do not, sir.   PROSPERO. 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?   ARIEL. No, sir.   PROSPERO. Thou hast. Where was she born?     Speak; tell me.   ARIEL. Sir, in Argier.   PROSPERO. O, was she so? I must     Once in a month recount what thou hast been,     Which thou forget'st. This damn'd 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?   ARIEL. Ay, sir.   PROSPERO. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,     And here was left by th'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 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 freckl'd whelp, hag-born-not honour'd with     A human shape.   ARIEL. Yes, Caliban her son.   PROSPERO. 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.   ARIEL. I thank thee, master.   PROSPERO. 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.   ARIEL. Pardon, master;     I will be correspondent to command,     And do my spriting gently.   PROSPERO. Do so; and after two days     I will discharge thee.   ARIEL. That's my noble master!     What shall I do? Say what. What shall I do?   PROSPERO. Go make thyself like a nymph o' th' sea; be subject     To no sight but thine and mine, invisible     To every eyeball else. Go take this shape,     And hither come in 't. Go, hence with diligence!                                                       Exit ARIEL     Awake, dear heart, awake; thou hast slept well;     Awake.   MIRANDA. The strangeness of your story put     Heaviness in me.   PROSPERO. Shake it off. Come on,     We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never     Yields us kind answer.   MIRANDA. 'Tis a villain, sir,     I do not love to look on.   PROSPERO. But as 'tis,     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.   CALIBAN.   [ Within]  There's wood enough within.   PROSPERO. Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee.     Come, thou tortoise! when?               Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph      Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,     Hark in thine ear.   ARIEL. My lord, it shall be done.                         Exit   PROSPERO. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself     Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!                         Enter CALIBAN    CALIBAN. 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!   PROSPERO. 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 honeycomb, each pinch more stinging     Than bees that made 'em.   CALIBAN. I must eat my dinner.     This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,     Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st first,     Thou strok'st me and made much of me, wouldst 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' th' isle,     The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.     Curs'd 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 o' th' island.   PROSPERO. 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.   CALIBAN. O ho, O ho! Would't had been done.     Thou didst prevent me; I had peopl'd else     This isle with Calibans.   MIRANDA. Abhorred slave,     Which any print of goodness wilt 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 wouldst 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.   CALIBAN. 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!   PROSPERO. Hag-seed, hence!     Fetch us in fuel. And be quick, thou 'rt 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.   CALIBAN. No, pray thee.     [Aside]  I must obey. His art is of such pow'r,     It would control my dam's god, Setebos,     And make a vassal of him.   PROSPERO. So, slave; hence!                       Exit CALIBAN           Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing ad singing;                      FERDINAND following                            ARIEL'S SONG.             Come unto these yellow sands,               And then take hands;             Curtsied when you have and kiss'd,               The wild waves whist,             Foot it featly here and there,             And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.               Hark, hark!             [Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.]               The watch dogs bark.             [Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.]               Hark, hark! I hear             The strain of strutting chanticleer               Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.   FERDINAND. Where should this music be? I' th' air or th'     earth?     It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon     Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,     Weeping again the King my father's wreck,     This music crept by me upon the waters,     Allaying both their fury and my passion     With its sweet air; thence I have follow'd it,     Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.     No, it begins again.                     ARIEL'S SONG          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:            [Burden: Ding-dong.]          Hark! now I hear them-Ding-dong bell.    FERDINAND. 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.   PROSPERO. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,     And say what thou seest yond.   MIRANDA. What is't? a spirit?     Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,     It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.   PROSPERO. 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 'em.   MIRANDA. I might call him     A thing divine; for nothing natural     I ever saw so noble.   PROSPERO.  [Aside]  It goes on, I see,     As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee     Within two days for this.   FERDINAND. Most sure, the goddess     On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my pray'r     May know if you remain upon this island;     And that you will some good instruction give     How I may bear me here. My prime request,     Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!     If you be maid or no?   MIRANDA. No wonder, sir;     But certainly a maid.   FERDINAND. My language? Heavens!     I am the best of them that speak this speech,     Were I but where 'tis spoken.   PROSPERO. How? the best?     What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?   FERDINAND. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders     To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;     And that he does I weep. Myself am Naples,     Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld     The King my father wreck'd.   MIRANDA. Alack, for mercy!   FERDINAND. Yes, faith, and all his lords, the Duke of Milan     And his brave son being twain.   PROSPERO.  [Aside]  The Duke of Milan     And his more braver daughter could control thee,     If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight     They have chang'd eyes. Delicate Ariel,     I'll set thee free for this.  [To FERDINAND]  A word, good     sir;     I fear you have done yourself some wrong; a word.   MIRANDA. Why speaks my father so ungently? This     Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first     That e'er I sigh'd for. Pity move my father     To be inclin'd my way!   FERDINAND. O, if a virgin,     And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you     The Queen of Naples.   PROSPERO. Soft, Sir! one word more.     [Aside]  They are both in either's pow'rs; but this swift     busines     I must uneasy make, lest too light winning     Make the prize light.  [To FERDINAND]  One word more; I     charge thee     That thou attend me; thou dost here usurp     The name thou ow'st not; and hast put thyself     Upon this island as a spy, to win it     From me, the lord on't.   FERDINAND. No, as I am a man.   MIRANDA. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.     If the ill spirit have so fair a house,     Good things will strive to dwell with't.   PROSPERO. Follow me.     Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come;     I'll manacle thy neck and feet together.     Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be     The fresh-brook mussels, wither'd roots, and husks     Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.   FERDINAND. No;     I will resist such entertainment till     Mine enemy has more power.                           [He draws, and is charmed from moving]   MIRANDA. O dear father,     Make not too rash a trial of him, for     He's gentle, and not fearful.   PROSPERO. What, I say,     My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;     Who mak'st a show but dar'st not strike, thy conscience     Is so possess'd with guilt. Come from thy ward;     For I can here disarm thee with this stick     And make thy weapon drop.   MIRANDA. Beseech you, father!   PROSPERO. Hence! Hang not on my garments.   MIRANDA. Sir, have pity;     I'll be his surety.   PROSPERO. Silence! One word more     Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!     An advocate for an impostor! hush!     Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,     Having seen but him and Caliban. Foolish wench!     To th' most of men this is a Caliban,     And they to him are angels.   MIRANDA. My affections     Are then most humble; I have no ambition     To see a goodlier man.   PROSPERO. Come on; obey.     Thy nerves are in their infancy again,     And have no vigour in them.   FERDINAND. So they are;     My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.     My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,     The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats     To whom I am subdu'd, are but light to me,     Might I but through my prison once a day     Behold this maid. All corners else o' th' earth     Let liberty make use of; space enough     Have I in such a prison.   PROSPERO.  [Aside]  It works.  [To FERDINAND]  Come on.-     Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!  [To FERDINAND]  Follow     me.     [To ARIEL]  Hark what thou else shalt do me.   MIRANDA. Be of comfort;     My father's of a better nature, sir,     Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted     Which now came from him.   PROSPERO.  [To ARIEL]  Thou shalt be as free     As mountain winds; but then exactly do     All points of my command.   ARIEL. To th' syllable.   PROSPERO.  [To FERDINAND]  Come, follow.  [To MIRANDA]     Speak not for him.                                    Exeunt