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.

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:
Hark! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell.

A LOVER'S SPEECH.

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.

ACT II.

DESCRIPTION OF FERDINAND'S SWIMMING ASHORE.

I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,

As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt
He came alive to land.

SLEEP.

Do not omit the heavy offer of it;

It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.

A FINE APOSIOPESIS.

They fell together all, as by consent;

They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian?-O, what might? -No more:And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,

What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee:

and

My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.

CALIBAN'S CURSES.

All the infections that the sun sucks up

From bogs, fens, flats, on Prospero fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid them; but
For every trifle are they set upon me:
Sometimes like apes, that moe* and chatter at me,
And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I
All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues,
Do hiss me into madness: Lo! now! lo!
Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me,
For bringing wood in slowly; I'll fall flat:
Perchance he will not mind me.

SATIRE ON ENGLISH CURIOSITY.

Were I in England now (as once I was,) and had but this fish painted, not a holiday-fool there but would give a piece of silver; there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.

CALIBAN'S PROMISES.

I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee ber

ries;

I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!

Pll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wond'rous man.

I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;
Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee
To clust'ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee
Young sea-mells* from the rock.

ACT III.

FERDINAND.

There be some sports are painful; but their labour
Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters
Point to rich ends. This my mean task would be
As heavy to me, as 'tis odious; but

The mistress which I serve, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed;
And he's composed of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,
Upon a sore injunction: My sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work: and says, such base-

ness

Had ne'er like executor. I forget:
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours;
Most busy-less, when I do it.

Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance.
Mira. Alas, now! pray you,

Work not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt up those logs, that you are, enjoined to pile Pray, sit it down, and rest you: when this burns, Twill weep for having wearied you: My father Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;

He's safe for these three hours.

Fer.

O most dear mistress,

The sun will set, before I shall discharge,
What I must strive to do.

Mira.

If you'll sit down,

I'll bear your logs the while: Pray give me that

* Sea-gulls.

I'll carry it to the pile.
Fer.

No, precious creature:
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.
Mira.

It would become me

As well as it does you: and I should do it
With much more ease; for my good will is to it,

And yours against.
Pro.

Poor worm! thou art infected;

This visitation shows it.
Mira.

You look wearily. Fer. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with

me,

When you are by at night. I do beseech you, (Chiefly, that I might set it in your prayers,) What is your name?

Mira.

Miranda:-O my father,

I have broke your hest* to say so!
Fer.

Admir'd Miranda!

Indeed the top of admiration; worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues
Have I lik'd several women; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd,f
And put it to the foil: But you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best.

Mira.

I do not know

One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen
More that I may call men, than you, good friend
And my dear father; how features are abroad,
1 am skill-less of; but, by my modesty,
(The jewel in my dower,) I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you;
Nor can imagination form a shape,

Besides yourself, to like of: but I prattle
Something too wildly, and my father's precepts

Therein forget.

Fer.

I am, in my condition,

A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king:
(I would, not so!) and would no more endure
This wooden slavery, than I would suffer

The flesh-fly blow my mouth,-Hear my soul

speak;

The very instant that I saw you, did

My heart fly to your service; there resides,

To make me slave to it; and, for your sake,

Am I this patient log-man.

Mira.

Do you love me?

Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound,

And crown what I profess with kind event,

If I speak true; if hollowly, invert

What best is boded me, to mischief! I,

1,

Beyond all limit of what else* i' the world,

Do love, prize, honour you.

Mira.

I am a fool,

Fair encounter

To weep at what I am glad of.

Pro.

Of too most rare affections! Heaven's rain grace

On that which breeds between them!

Fer.

Wherefore weep you?

Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer

What I desire to give; and much less take,
What I shall die to want: But this is trifling;
And all the more it seeks to hide itself,

The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning,

And prompt me, plain and holy innocence.
I am your wife if you will marry me;
If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow
You may deny me: but I'll be your servant,
Whether you will or no.

Fer.

And I thus humble ever.
Mira.

My mistress, dearest,

My husband then?

Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing