CALIBAN.
No, 'pr'ythee, Prosper, do not leave me here
'Mong'st fiends and spirits; who, when thou'rt not by
To shield him, will lone Caliban devour!

PROSPERO.
Be satisfied;—there's nought to apprehend.
In Neptune's bed my magick-volume sunk,
And many fathoms earth'd my broken staff,
Upon this isle no spirit will abide
Of good or evil, to delight or fear:—
Puppets and elves shall gambol here no more,
In sportive ringlets, by pale Hecate's gleam;—
No more shall hideous spectres scare thee home,
Loit'ring and grumbling at thy bidden task;—
For, when I leave thee, thou'lt be more alone
Than when, with Ariel pent i'th' cloven pine,
A shapeless, helpless thing, I prowling found thee.

CALIBAN.
Which loneliness I now mislike and dread,
More than thy sprites and fiends; 'custom'd to sort
With monkies, apes, baboons, I felt not, ere

My noble lord came here, it's irksomeness;
But thou hast taught it me: then leave me not,
I pr'ythee!—take me hence!—I'll lick thy feet,
And ever be obedient to controul.

PROSPERO.
What says Miranda? does my child approve
We take our late offending vassal hence?

CALIBAN.
Speak for me, mistress! I'll be naught no more.

MIRANDA.
I think, dear sir! the creature's much reform'd
Since your forgiveness of his last offence;
And, by commixture with so many men,
He hourly humanizes: pity 'twere
In lonesome wretchedness to leave him now,
The speechless brutes his sole society,
Perforce a savage to become again.

CALIBAN.
Thanks! mistress! thanks!—thou smooth-fac'd man, speak too!

FERDINAND.
'Please you, sir, take him hence; I dare engage
He'll do you duteous service in return.

CALIBAN.
Good now, my king, be mov'd!

PROSPERO.
I am content;
But, have a care! look you deserve this grace!

CALIBAN.
Yea, that I will, in sooth, my noble lord!
In the new world thou goest to, will I dig
For hidden springs, to slake my master's thirst;
Rend thee down fewel; scoop thee a trim cell;
And be in all things meet thy vassal true!

PROSPERO.
Enough;—endeavour to do well, good deeds
Will follow, and beget thee farther favour.

CALIBAN.
Yet grant one other boon, and I am sped!
'Stead of this rugged hide, to 'ray me now
In some sleek garment of my bounteous lord;
Or still yon dolts thy slave will moon-calf call!

PROSPERO.
'Twere not amiss; thou may'st:—but tarry not.

CALIBAN.
I thank thy greatness!—I'll return anon,
And be thy lowly foot-licker for aye! Exit.

PROSPERO.
Miranda! solace ever of my woes!
Beloved Milan thou wilt soon revisit;
Whence, with thy hapless sire, thou wert outcast
By dire ambition, source of ev'ry ill!

MIRANDA.
I scarce can guess what 'tis ambition means;
If ill, I must disclaim it: for all mine
Is center'd in my sire's and Ferd'nand's love!

FERDINAND.
Thou sweetest flow'r that e'er in desert grew!
In whom the dignity of crowned queens
With rural innocence and beauty joins,
Here let me breathe forth—

PROSPERO.
Hush! our friends approach.—
The sugar'd prattle of chaste love, my son!
Howe'er th' enraptur'd maid it may delight,
Or glad the doating parent's list'ning ear,
To each one else insipid is, and dull! Enter Gonzalo.

GONZALO.
My good lord Prospero, I've search'd up and down
This isle of yours, for somewhat to take home;

Some seld-seen rarity, as travellers use:
But, faith and troth, my lord, for aught I see,
Naples or Milan nothing hence can get,
Or valuable, or curious to behold.

PROSPERO.
Yes, my Gonzalo! honour'd friend! to whom
That now I live thence to return I owe!
One thing, at least, to wonder at we'll take;
The mis-created knave you saw ere while,
I now intend—

GONZALO.
Not to take home, I hope!
There were too many monsters, native there,
Else had you ne'er him found, or Milan lost.

PROSPERO.
That we no more will think on, good old lord!
A fault forgiv'n should also be forgot;
Or, like a half-heal'd wound, 'twill fester still,
And rankle at the core.

FERDINAND.
Consummate goodness!

GONZALO.
I'th' name of all that's savage! what comes here?
The thing we spake of, surely, new-attir'd!

Enter Caliban.
Why, how now, sirrah? wherefore this fine change,
From a rough skin to an embroider'd silk?

CALIBAN.
I crav'd this robe, that by yon scoffing apes
I might no more be flouted at, and mock'd;—
They call'd me servant-monster, moon-calf, fish!
Perchance they'll think I am more man-like now;
It may be, but I am not near so warm:
A shaggy hide, from the chill breeze to 'fend,
Is far more worth than 'broider'd silken robe. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, and Anthonio.

PROSPERO.
Welcome, great king! welcome and health to all!
The earth-dividing sea, now smiling calm,
By swarthy Africk and fair Europe beach'd,
Our good keel soon shall plough; soon we, I trust,
Lost Italy regain!

ALONZO.
'Till we arrive,
Most injur'd Prospero! each hour's a year;
So much this beauteous maid I wish to see
My Ferd'nand's bride, thee to thy right restor'd.

ANTHONIO.
Nor shall I know a happy moment, sir!

'Till I, in Milan, formally have made
A public resignation of your seat;
Which that I e'er usurp'd sore smites my heart!

SEBASTIAN.
No soul in Italy but will rejoice
To see my much-lov'd brother, Naples' king,
With Milan's rightful duke, and their 'troth'd heirs! Enter Adrian, and Francisco.

PROSPERO.
Now, sirs, I pray, is all in readiness?

ADRIAN.
All, all, great sir!

FRANCISCO.
Our brave, refitted, ship,
With unfurl'd sails, that swell before the breeze,
Seems, like the mettled racer, ere he start,
Hardly held in, impatient of delay!

PROSPERO.
Here, then, I bid adieu to solitude!—
Farewell the desert wild, the sandy beach,
Where oft, from dawn to dusky e'en, I strain'd
My anxious eye-balls to descry a sail;
Farewell my humble cave, whose flinty bed

My aged body hardiness hath taught,
But ne'er subdued the feelings of my mind:
While some, whose limbs enervate upon down,
Suffer their hearts to harden into stone.
Farewell Adversity;—O, tutor sage!
Still may I practise what of thee I learn'd.
Farewell my sorrows all!—hail! smiling Peace!
And laud we Heaven for this our blest release! Exeunt all but Caliban.

CALIBAN.
Now shall I see the wond'rous, yearn'd-for place,
Where many Prospers, and Mirandas dwell:
He calls it Milan:—I opine 'tis Heaven!
It must, it must! for many such as she
Would make a Heaven e'en of this desert isle! Enter Boatswain, Stephano, and Trinculo.

BOATSWAIN.

Come, bear a hand, ye bibbers! the king and company are just about to embark.

STEPHANO.

I told you, Trinculo, I'd get my bottle out of the pool;—here, lay to—

TRINCULO.

'Thank you, boy! a good voyage to us, and no hobgoblins!

STEPHANO.

Who have we here? my man-monster! and in a guarded jerkin?

TRINCULO.

The goblins stripp'd us, last night, of our share of the frippery; how cam'st thou still so bedeck'd, mooncalf?

CALIBAN.
I am no monster! nor no moon-calf, fools!
Yon' great ones, wiser far than ye! say I'm
A proper man! then henceforth flout no more!

STEPHANO.

Trinculo, the wenches in Italy must look to their hearts now, and we may wear the willow; for there'll be no making love to any purpose, while Signior Caliban is by.

BOATSWAIN.

Belay this prating, and make for the beach; or ye'll be left astern.

TRINCULO.

Come along, Ban!—and, when we are aboard, I'll teach you how to pare your pig-nut nails, against you go a-wooing.

CALIBAN.
Haste thou, vile patch! or here be left alone;
Then, as for food ye faint, ye'll wish in vain

For my long nails, such dainties to unearth:
Prizing what, dolt-like, now ye dare deride! Exit Caliban.

STEPHANO.

Say'st thou so, bully monster? lead the way then; we are for no such dainties: lead on, Moon-calf! farewell, crab-island! Naples a-hoy!—a brisk gale, and no hobgoblins!

TRINCULO.
Ay, Stephano! a brisk gale, and no hobgoblins! Exeunt.

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