Fer.
The ditty does remember my drown'd father.
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owns: I hear it now above me.

Pro.
The fringed curtains of thine eyes advance,
And say, what thou see'st 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,
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.
I might call him
A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

Pro.
It goes on, I see, [Aside.
As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit, I'll free thee
Within two days for this.

Fer.
Most sure, the Goddess
On whom these airs attend!—Vouchsafe, my pray'r
May know, if you remain upon this Island;
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.
No wonder, Sir,

But certainly a maid.^{1 note}

Fer.
My language! heav'ns!
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 wreckt.

Mira.
Alack, for mercy!

Fer.
Yes, faith, and all his lords: the Duke of Milan,
And his brave Son, being twain.^{2 note}

Pro.
—The Duke of Milan,
And his more braver daughter, could control thee,^{3 note}
If now 'twere fit to do't:—At the first sight, [Aside to Ariel.
They have chang'd eyes:—delicate Ariel,

I'll set thee free for this.—A word, good Sir,
I fear, you've done yourself some wrong: a word—

Mira.
Why speaks my father so urgently? this
Is the third man, that I e'er saw; the first,
That e'er I sigh'd for. Pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!

Fer.
O, if a Virgin,
And your Affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The Queen of Naples.

Pro.
Soft, Sir; one word more.—
They're both in either's power: but this swift business
I must uneasy make, lest too light winn ing [Aside.
Make the prize light.—Sir, one word more; I charge thee,
That thou attend me:—thou dost here usurp
The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thyself
Upon this Island, as a spy, to win it
From me, the lord on't.

Fer.
No, as I'm a man.

Mira.
There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.
If the ill spirit have so fair an house,
Good things will strive to dwell with't.

Pro. [To Ferd.]
Follow me— [To Mirand.]
Speak not you for him: he's a traitor.—Come,
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together;
Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscels, wither'd roots, and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

Fer.
No,
I will resist such entertainment, 'till
Mine enemy has more power. [He draws, and is charm'd from moving.

Mira.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a tryal of him; for
He's gentle, and not fearful.

Pro.
What I say,
My foot my tutor? put thy sword up, traitor,

Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike; thy conscience
Is so possest with guilt: come from thy ward,^{4 note}
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.

Mira.
Beseech you, father.

Pro.
Hence: hang not on my garment.

Mira.
Sir, have pity;
I'll be his surety.

Pro.
Silence: one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What,
An advocate for an impostor? hush!
Thou think'st, there are no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban; foolish wench!
To th' most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels.

Mira.
My affections
Are then most humble: I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

Pro.
Come on, obey; [To Ferdinand.]
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.

Fer.
So they are:
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, and this man's threats,
To whom I am subdu'd, were but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid: all corners else o'th'earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I, in such a prison.

Pro.
It works: come on. [To Ariel]
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! follow me.
Hark, what thou else shalt do me.

Mira.
Be of comfort,
My father's of a better nature, Sir,

Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.

Pro.
Thou shalt be as free
As mountain winds; but then exactly do
All points of my command.

Ari.
To th' syllable.

Pro. [To Ferdinand.]
Come, follow: [To Mir.] speak not for him. [Exeunt.

Previous section