Pro.
Now does my project gather to a head;
My charms crack not; my spirits obey, and time
Goes upright with his carriage: how's the day?

Ari.
On the sixth hour, at which time, my Lord,
You said, our work should cease.

Pro.
I did say so,
When first I rais'd the tempest; say, my spirit,
How fares the King and's followers?

Ari.
Confin'd
In the same fashion as you gave in charge;
Just as you left them, all prisoners, sir,
In the Lime-Grove which weather-fends your cell.
They cannot budge, 'till your release. The King,
His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted;
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brim-full of sorrow and dismay; but, chiefly,
Him that you term'd the good old Lord Gonzalo.
His tears run down his beard, like winter drops
From eaves of reeds; your charm so strongly works 'em,
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.

Pro.
Do'st thou think so, spirit?

Ari.
Mine would, sir, were I human.

Pro.
And mine shall.
Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling,
Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,
Passion'd as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art?
Tho' with their high wrongs I am struck to th' quick,
Yet, with my nobler reason, 'gainst my fury,
Do I take part: the rarer action is
* ^noteIn virtue than in vengeance; they being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frown further; go, release them, Ariel;
My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore,
And they shall be themselves.

Ari.
I'll fetch them, sir. [Exit.

Pro.
Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves,

And ye, that on the sands with printless foot,
Do chase the ebbing Neptune; and do fly him,
When he comes back; you demy-puppets, that
By moon-shine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,
(Weak masters tho' ye be) I have be-dimm'd
The noon tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault,
Set roaring war; to the dread rattling thunder
Have I giv'n fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak,
With his own bolt: the strong-bas'd promontory
Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluckt up
The pine and cedar: graves, at my command,
Have wak'd their sleepers; op'd, and let them forth,
By my so potent art. But this rough magick
I here abjure; and when I have requir'd
Some heavenly musick, which ev'n now I do,
(To work mine end upon their senses, that
This airy charm is for), I'll break my staff;
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth;
And, deeper than did ever plummet sound,
I'll drown my book* ^note. [Solemn Music. Here enters Ariel before; then Alonso, Gonzalo, Sebastian, Anthonio, Francisco. They all enter the Circle which Prospero had made, and there stand charm'd; which Prospero observing, speaks.

There stand,
For you are spell-stopt.—
Holy Gonzalo, honourable man† ^note,
Mine eyes, ev'n sociable to th' shew of thine,

Fall fellow drops—The charm dissolves apace,
And as the morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ign'rant fumes, that mantle
Their clearer reason. Sir—Most cruelly
Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter:
Thy brother was a furtherer in the act;
Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian, flesh and blood.
You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition,
Expell'd remorse and nature; I do forgive thee,
Unnat'ral though thou art. Their understanding
Begins to swell, and the approaching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shore,
That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them,
That yet looks on me, or would know me.—Ariel,
Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell;
I will dis-case me, and myself present,
As I was sometime Milan: quickly, Spirit;
Thou shalt ere long be free. [Prospero goes in.
Ariel sings.
Where the bee sucks, there lurk I;
In a cowslip's bell I lie:
There I couch, when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly,
After sunset, merrily,
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom, that hangs on the bough. Enter Prospero, drest.

Pro.
Why, that's my dainty Ariel; I shall miss thee;
But yet thou shalt have freedom.
To the King's ship, invisible as thou art:
There shalt thou find the mariners asleep,
Under the hatches; the master and boatswain
Being awake, enforce them to this place;
And presently, I pr'ythee.

Ari.
I drink the air before me, and return
Or ere your pulse twice beat. [Exit.

Gon.
All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement,
Inhabit here; some heav'enly power guide us,
Out of this fearful country!

Pro.
Behold, Sir King,
The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero:
For more assurance that a living Prince
Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body.

Alon.
Be'st thou he or no,
Or some inchanted trifle to abuse me,
As late I have been, I not know; thy pulse
Beats, as of flesh and blood; and since I saw thee,
Th' affliction of my mind amends, with which,
I fear, a madness held me; this must crave
(And if this be at all) a most strange story:
Thy Dukedom I resign, and do intreat
Thou pardon me my wrongs; but how should Prospero
Be living, and be here?

Pro.
First, noble friend,
Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot
Be measur'd or confin'd.

Gon.
Whether this be,
Or be not, I'll not swear.

Pro.
You do yet taste
Some subtilties o' th' isle, that will not let you
Believe things certain: welcome, my friends all.
For you, most wicked Sir, whom to call brother
Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive
Thy rankest faults; all of them; and require
My Dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,
Thou must restore.

Alon.
If thou be'st Prospero,
Give us particulars of thy preservation,
How thou hast met us here, who, three hours since,
Were wreckt upon this shore; where I have lost
(How sharp the point of this remembrance is!)
My dear son Ferdinand.

Pro.
I'm woe for't, sir.

Alon.
Irreparable is the loss, and Patience
Says, it is past her cure.

Pro.
I rather think,
You have not sought her help; of whose soft grace,
For the like loss, I have her sov'reign aid,
And rest myself content.

Alon.
You the like loss?

Pro.
As great to me; for I
Have lost my daughter.

Alon.
A daughter?
O heav'ns! that they were living both in Naples,
The King and Queen there! that they were, I wish
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed,
Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?

Pro.
In this last tempest. I perceive, these Lords
At this encounter do so much admire,
That they devour their reason; and scarce think,
Their eyes do offices of truth, their words
Are natural breath: but, howsoe'er you have
Been justled from your senses, know, for certain,
That I am Prosp'ro, and that very Duke
Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely
Upon this shore, where you were wreckt, was landed,
To be the Lord on't. No more yet of this;
For 'tis a chronicle of day by day,
Not a relation for a breakfast, nor
Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir;
This cell's my court; here have I few attendants,
And subjects none abroad; pray you, look in;
My Dukedom since you've given me again,
I will requite you with as good a thing;
At least, bring forth a wonder to content ye,
As much as me my Dukedom.

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