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4
The Tempest.
(Which I dispers'd) they all haue met againe,And are vpon the Mediterranian FloteBound sadly home for Naples,Supposing that they saw the Kings ship wrackt,And his great person perish.
Pro.Ariel, thy chargeExactly is perform'd; but there's more worke:What is the time o'th'day?
Ar.Past the mid season.
Pro.At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & nowMust by vs both be spent most preciously.
Ar.Is there more toyle? Since yu dost giue me pains,Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,Which is not yet perform'd me.
Pro.How now? moodie?What is't thou canst demand?
Ar.My Libertie.
Pro.Before the time be out? no more:
Ar.I prethee,Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice,Told thee no lyes, made thee no mistakings, serv'dWithout or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promiseTo bate me a full yeere.
Pro.Do'st thou forgetFrom what a torment I did free thee?
Ar.No.
Pro.Thou do'st: & thinkst it much to tread ye OozeOf the salt deepe;To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North,To doe me businesse in the veines o'th'earthWhen it is bak'd with frost.
Ar.I doe not Sir.
Pro.Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgotThe fowle Witch Sycorax, who with Age and EnuyWas growne into a hoope? hast thou forgot her?
Ar.No Sir.
Pro.Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me:
Ar.Sir, in Argier.
Pro.Oh, was she so: I mustOnce in a moneth recount what thou hast bin,Which thou forgetst. This damn'd Witch SycoraxFor mischiefes manifold, and sorceries terribleTo enter humane hearing, from ArgierThou know'st was banish'd: for one thing she didThey wold not take her life: Is not this true?
Ar.I, Sir.
Pro.This blew ey'd hag, was hither brought with child,And here was left by th'Saylors; thou my slaue,As thou reportst thy selfe, was then her seruant,And for thou wast a Spirit too delicateTo act her earthy, and abhord commands,Refusing her grand hests, she did confine theeBy helpe of her more potent Ministers,And in her most vnmittigable rage,Into a clouen Pyne, within which riftImprison'd, thou didst painefully remaineA dozen yeeres: within which space she di'd,And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanesAs fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island(Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere,A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd withA humane shape.
Ar.Yes: Caliban her sonne.
Pro.Dull thing, I say so: he, that CalibanWhom now I keepe in seruice, thou best know'stWhat torment I did finde thee in; thy gronesDid make wolues howle, and penetrate the breastsOf euer-angry Beares; it was a tormentTo lay vpon the damn'd, which SycoraxCould not againe vndoe: it was mine Art,When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gapeThe Pyne, and let thee out.
Ar.I thanke thee Master.
Pro.If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an OakeAnd peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, tillThou hast howl'd away twelue winters.
Ar.Pardon, Master,I will be correspondent to commandAnd doe my spryting, gently.
Pro.Doe so: and after two daiesI will discharge thee.
Ar.That's my noble Master:What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe?
Pro.Goe make thy selfe like a Nymph o'th'Sea,Be subiect to no fight but thine, and mine: inuisibleTo euery eye-ball else: goe take this shapeAnd hither come in't: goe: henceExit.With diligence.
Pro.Awake, deere hart awake, thou hast slept well,Awake.
Mir.The strangenes of your story, putHeauinesse in me.
Pro.Shake it off: Come on,Wee'll visit Caliban, my slaue, who neuerYeelds vs kinde answere.
Mir.'Tis a villaine Sir, I doe not loue to looke on.
Pro.But as 'tisWe cannot misse him: he do's make our fire,Fetch in our wood, and serves in OfficesThat profit vs: What hoa: slaue: Caliban:Thou Earth, thou: speake.
Cal. within.There's wood enough within.
Pro.Come forth I say, there's other busines for thee:Come thou Tortoys, when? Enter Ariel like a water Nymph.Fine apparision: my queint Ariel,Hearke in thine eare.
Ar.Exit.My Lord, it shall be done.
Pro.Thou poysonous slaue, got by ye diuell himselfeVpon thy wicked Dam; come forth.
Enter Caliban.
Cal.As wicked dewe, as ere my mother brush'dWith Rauens feather from vnwholesome FenDrop on you both: A Southwest blow on yee,And blister you all ore.
Pro.For this be sure, to night thou shalt haue cramps,Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath vp, VrchinsShall for that vast of night, that they may workeAll exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'dAs thicke as hony-combe, each pinch more stingingThen 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 cam'st firstThou stroakst me, & made much of me: wouldst giue meWater with berries in't: and teach me howTo name the bigger Light, and how the lesseThat burne by day, and night: and then I lou'd theeAnd shew'd thee all the qualities o'th'Isle,The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertill,Curs'd be I that did so: All the CharmesOf Sycorax: Toades, Beetles, Batts light on you:For I am all the Subjects that you haue,Which first was min owne King: and here you sty-meIn this hard Rocke, whiles you doe keepe from meThe rest o'th'Island.
Pro. Thou
