ARIEL.
What would my potent master? here I am.

Prospero.
How fares the king and 's followers?

ARIEL.
Confin'd,
In the same fashion as you gave in charge:
The king, his brother, and yours, are all three
Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly
Old Gonzalo, his tears run down his beard
Like winter's drops, like ears of reeds; if you
Saw them, your affections would become tender.

PROSPERO.
Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,
Passion'd as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art?
They being penitent, the sole drift of
My purpose doth extend not a frown further;
Go, bring them, Ariel, hither; and let thy
Meaner fellows fetch the rabble, o'er whom
I gave them pow'r to do it presently.

AIR. ARIEL.
Before you can say, come and go,
And breathe twice, and cry, so—so,
Each one tripping on his toe,
Will be here with mop and mow.
Do you love me, master—?No.
  So ready and quick is a spirit of air,
  To pity the lover, and succour the fair,
  That, silent and swift, the little soft god
  Is here with a wish, and is gone with a nod.— [Exit Ariel.

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