The Tempest | Page 6

camest first, Thou strokedst me, and madest much of me; wouldst give me Water with berries in't; and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, 335 That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile: Curs'd be I that did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! 340 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.
Pros. Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee, 345 Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodged thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child.
Cal. O ho, O ho! would 't had been done! Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else 350 This isle with Calibans.
Pros. Abhorred slave, 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, 355 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 360 Deservedly confined into this rock, Who hadst deserved more than a prison.
Cal. 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!
Pros. Hag-seed, hence! 365 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, 370 That beasts shall tremble at thy din.
Cal. No, pray thee. [Aside] I must obey: his art is of such power, It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him.
Pros. So, slave; hence! [Exit Caliban.
Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND following.
ARIEL'S song.
Come unto these yellow sands, 375 And then take hands: Courtsied when you have and kiss'd The wild waves whist: Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. 380
Burthen [dispersedly]. Hark, hark! Bow-wow. The watch-dogs bark: Bow-wow.
Ari. Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer 385 Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.
Fer. Where should this music be? i' th' air or th' earth? It sounds no more: and, sure, it waits upon Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the king my father's wreck, 390 This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it. Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone. No, it begins again. 395
ARIEL sings.
Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change 400 Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Burthen: Ding-dong.
Ari. Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell.
Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father. 405 This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes:--I hear it now above me.
Pros. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond.
Mir. What is't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, 410 It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.
Pros. 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 mightst call him 415 A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, And strays about to find 'em.
Mir. I might call him A thing divine; for nothing natural I ever saw so noble.
Pros. [Aside] It goes on, I see, As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee 420 Within two days for this.
Fer. Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer 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, 425 Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder! If you be maid or no?
Mir. No wonder, sir; But certainly a maid.
Fer. My language! heavens! I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken.
Pros. How? the best? 430 What wert thou, if the King of Naples