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 Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins As thick as honey-comb, each pinch more stinging 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. Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! 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! Pro. Abhorred slave", Which any print of goodness will not take, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour With words that made them known; but thy vile race, natures Could not abide to be with: therefore wast thou 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, What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps; Cal. I must obey: his art is of such power, 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 Fer. Where should this music be? i' th' air, or th' earth ? It sounds no more;-and sure, it waits upon ARIEL sings. Full fathom five thy father lies; [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 Mira. But, certainly a maid. Fer. No wonder, sir; My language! heavens! I am the best of them that speak this speech, Pro. 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. |