It sounds no more:-and sure, it waits upon
Some god of 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 :
Hark! now I hear them-ding-dong, bell.
[Burden, ding-dong.

Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd

father:

This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owest: - I hear it now above me.

Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,

And say, what thou seest yond'.

Mira.

What is't? a spirit?

Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form:-But 'tis a spirit.

Pro. 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 might'st

call him

A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,

And strays about to find them.

Mira.

I might call him

A thing divine; for nothing natural

(1) Owns.

It goes on,

I ever saw so noble.
Pro.

Aside.

As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free

thee

Within two days for this.

Fer.

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?

Mira.

But, certainly a maid.

Fer.

No wonder, sir;

My language? heavens!

I am the best of them that speak this speech,

Were I but where 'tis spoken.

Pro. How! the best? What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee? Fer. 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, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The king my father wreck'd.

Mira.

Alack, for mercy!

Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of Milan, And his brave son, being twain. Pro.

The duke of Milan,

And his more braver daughter, could controll thee,
If now it were fit to do 't.-At the first sight
[Aside.

They have chang'd eyes :-Delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this!-A word, good sir;
I fear, you have done yourself some wrong: a word.
Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that ere I saw; the first
That ere I sigh'd for: pity move my father

(1) Confute.

To be inclin'd my way!

Fer.

O, if a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples.

Pro. Soft, sir; one word more.They are both in either's powers: but this swift business

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Aside. Make the prize light. -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.

Fer.

No, as I am a man.

Mira. 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.
Follow me.- [To Ferd.

Pro.

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 muscles, wither'd roots, and husks,

Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

Fer.

I will resist such entertainment, till

Mine enemy has more power.

Mira.

No;

[He draws.

O dear father,

Make not too rash a trial of him, for

He's gentle, and not fearfull.

Pro.

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;2 For I can here disarm thee with this stick,

And make thy weapon drop.

Mira.

Beseech you, father!

Pro. Hence; hang not on my garments.

Mira.

I'll be his surety.
Pro.

Sir, have pity;

Silence: one word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!

An advocate for an impostor? hush!

Thou think'st, there are no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!

To the most of men this is a Caliban,

And they to him are angels.

Mira.

My affections

Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

Pro.

Come on; obey:

[To Ferd.

So they are:

Thy nerves are in their infancy again,

And have no vigour in them.

Fer.

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, or this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison, once a day,
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough

Have I in such a prison.
Pro.
It works:-Come on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!--Follow me.-
[To Ferd. and Mira.
Hark, what thou else shall do me. [To Ariel.
Mira.
Be of comfort;

My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted,

Which now came from him.

Pro.

Thou shalt be as free

As mountain winds: but then exactly do

All points of my command.

Ari.

To the syllable.

Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Another part of the island. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others.

Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have

cause

(So have we all) of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss: our hint of wo
Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
The masters of some merchant, and the merchant,
Have just our theme of wo: but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.

Alon.

Pr'ythee, peace. Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.

Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit;

by and by it will strike.

Gon. Sir.

Seb. One-Tell.

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's offer'd,

Comes to the entertainer

Seb.

A dollar.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you proposed.

Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

Gon. Therefore, my lord,

Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! Alon. I pr'ythee, spare.

Gon. Well, I have done: but yet

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good

wager, first begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

Ant. The cockrel.

B2