Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare
SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.
SCENE II.—The Island; before the Cell of
Pro. Oh, was she so? I must,
Once in a month, recount what thou has been.
Which thou forget’st. This damn’d witch,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know’st, was banished; for one thing she
They would not take her life: Is not this true?
Ari. Ay, sir.
Pro. This blear-eyed hag was hither brought
with child, [slave,
And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my
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
Thour art inclin’d to sleep; ’tis a good dulness,
And give it way;—I know thou canst not choose.
Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;
Approach, my Ariel; come.
Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I
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.
Pro. Hast thou, spirit,
Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Ari. To every article.
I boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flamed amazement: Sometimes, I’d divide,
And burn in many places; on the top-mast,
The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame dis
Then meet and join: Jove’s lightnings, the
O’the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-out-running were not: The fire, and
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seem’d to besiege, and make his bold waves
Yea, his dread trident shake. [trember,
Pro. My brave spirit I
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
Would not infect his reason?
Ari. 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 leap’d; cried, Hell is
And all the devils are here! [empty,
Pro. Why, that’s my spirit!
But was not this nigh shore?
Ari. Close by, my master.
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 dispersed 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. Of the king’s ship,
The mariners, says, how thou hast disposed,
And all the rest o’ the fleet?
Ari. 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;
Whom, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d
I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet
A dozen years; within which space she died,
And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy
As fast as mill-wheels strike: Then was this
(Save for the son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp, hag-born,) not honour’d with
A human shape.
Ari. Yes: Caliban her son.
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 every-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
And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till (oak,
Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters.
Ari. Pardon, master:
I will be correspondent to command,
And do my spriting gently.
Pro. Do so; and after two days
I will discharge thee.
Ari. That’s my noble master!
What shall I do? say what? what shall I do?
Pro. Go, make thyself like to a nymph o’ the
Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible
To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape
And hither come in’t: hence, with diligence.
(On 7/23/14 - We will continue with “The Tempest“)