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The mariners all under hatches stow'd;

Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
I have left asleep: and for the rest o' th' fleet,
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again,
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples,

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wrack'd,
And his great person perish.


Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work..

What is the time o' th' day?


Past the mid season.

Prospero. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and


Must by us both be spent most preciously.

Ariel. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,

Which is not yet perform'd me.


What is't thou canst demand?


How now ? moody?

My liberty.

Prospero. Before the time be out? no more!

Remember I have done thee worthy service;

Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd

I prithee,

Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst promise
To bate me a full year


Dost thou forget


From what a torment I did free thee?


Prospero. Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the

Of the salt deep,

To run upon the sharp wind of the north,

To do me business in the veins o' th' earth

When it is bak'd with frost.



I do not, sir.

Prospero. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy

Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

Ariel. No, sir.


Thou hast. Where was she born? speak;

Ariel. Sir, in Argier.

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Once in a month recount what thou hast been,

Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible

To enter human hearing, from Argier,

Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did,
They would not take her life. Is not this true?
Ariel. Ay, sir.

[tell me.

Prospero. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by th' sailors. Thou, my slave,

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

A dozen years; within which space she died,

And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans
As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island-
Save for the son that she did litter here,

A freckled whelp, hag-born-not honour'd with
A human shape.

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Prospero. 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 ever-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.


I thank thee, master.

Prospero. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak,
And peg thee in his knotty entrails till
Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my spriting gently.


I will discharge thee.


Pardon, master;

Do so; and after two days

That's my noble master!

What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?

Prospero. Go make thyself like a nymph o' th' sea: be


To no sight but thine and mine; invisible

To every eyeball else. Go, take this shape,

And hither come in't go, hence with diligence !

Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;

Miranda. The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

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We cannot miss him he does make our fire,


Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices

[Exit Ariel.

That profit us.-What, ho! slave! Caliban!

Thou earth, thou! speak.

Caliban [within].

There's wood enough within.

Prospero. Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee: Come, thou tortoise! when ?—

Enter ARIEL, like a water-nymph.

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

Hark in thine ear.


My lord, it shall be done.

Prospero. Thou poisonous slave, come forth!


Caliban. 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 !


Prospero. 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 honeycomb, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made 'em.


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, wouldst 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,

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.


Thou most lying slave,

I have us'd thee,

Whom stripes may move, not kindness!

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.


O ho, O ho! would 't had been done!

Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.

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Which any print of goodness wilt 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 wouldst 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.

Caliban. 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!


Hag-seed, hence!

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.


No, pray thee.

[Aside.] I must obey: his art is of such power,

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