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
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 arrived 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 spiriting 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’ the 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 takest from me. When thou camest first,
Thou strokedst me and madest 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 loved 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 o’ the island.
PROSPERO Thou most lying slave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,
Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged 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 peopled else
This isle with Calibans.
PROSPERO 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 confined into this rock,
Who hadst deserved 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 power,
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 and singing; FERDINAND following
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 burthen bear.
Hark, hark!
Burthen [dispersedly, within] Bow-wow
The watch-dogs bark!
Burthen Bow-wow
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.
FERDINAND Where should this music be? i’ the air or the earth?
It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon
Some god o’ the 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 sings
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
Burthen 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 prayer
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 changed 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 inclined 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 powers; but this swift business
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 owest not; and hast put thyself