Pro. Come forth, I say: there's other business for

thee.

Come, thou tortoise! when3?

Re-enter ARIEL, like a water-nymph.

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

Hark in thine ear.

Ari.

My lord, it shall be done. [Erit.

Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Enter CALIBAN.

Cal. 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!

Pro. 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 honey-comb, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made 'em.

Cal.

I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,

Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest first, Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st

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,

3 Come, thou tortoise! when ?] A very common form of expression in our old dramatists, indicative of impatience. See also Vol. iv. p. 117.

4

for that VAST OF NIGHT that they may work,] So in Hamlet, Vol. vii. p. 209," In the dead cast and middle of the night." The "vast of night" seems to mean the empty space of night.

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' th' island.

Pro.

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.

Cal. O ho! O ho!-would it had been done!
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.

Pro.

Abhorred slave",

Which any print of goodness will 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 would'st 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.

Cal. 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!

Pro.

Hag-seed, hence!

Abhorred slave,] In Dryden and Davenant's alteration of "The Tempest," printed in 1670, this speech is assigned to Prospero, and no doubt rightly: in the first and later folios it is given to Miranda, to whom it is evident it could not belong.

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.

Cal.

I must obey: his art is of such power,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos',
And make a vassal of him.

Pro.

No, pray thee!

[Aside.

Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDI

NAND following him.

ARIEL'S Song.

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:

Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd

The wild waves whists,

Foot it featly here and there;

And, sweet sprites, the burden bear'.

Hark, hark!

Burden. Bowgh, wowgh.

The watch-dogs bark:

Burden. Bowgh, wowgh.

[Dispersedly".

6 and be quick, THOU'RT best,] Abbreviated in the old copies for the sake of the metre. Malone printed, "thou wert best."

7

-

my dam's god, Setebos,] Setebos, according to various authorities, both before and since the time of Shakespeare, was worshipped by the Patagonians; but Sycorax, as we learn from Ariel in a former part of this scene, was from Argier.

8 The wild waves WHIST;] i. e. the wild waves silent.

And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.] In the old copies this line runs, "And sweet sprites bear the burden," which the rhyme shows to be wrong.

10 Dispersedly.] This is the stage-direction of the folios, meaning that "the watch-dog's bark" is to be heard in several places at the same time: what is called “the burden,” “bowgh wowgh," is mixed up with the song itself in the old editions.

Hark, hark! I hear

The strain of strutting chanticlere
Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo.

Fer. 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 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:

[Burden: ding-dong.

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

Fer. 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.

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,

That the earth owES.] i. e. owns. See Vol. ii. pp. 45. 136. 297. 416, &c.

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 'em.

Mira.

A thing divine, for nothing natural

I ever saw so noble.

Pro.

I might call him

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

thee

Within two days for this.

Fer.

On whom these airs attend!—Vouchsafe, my prayer

Most sure, the goddess

remain upon

this island,

May know if you
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!

2 If you be MAID, or no?] This is the reading of the three earliest folios, and seems unquestionably right. Ferdinand has at first supposed Miranda a goddess, and now inquires if she be really a mortal; not a celestial being, but a maiden. "Maid" is used in its general sense. Miranda's answer is to be taken in the same sense as Ferdinand's question. In the fourth folio "maid" is altered to made.