Online Book Reader

Home Category

The Complete Works of William Shakespeare - Israel Gollancz William Shakespeare [1184]

By Root 19460 0

And his great person perish.

PROSPERO.

Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work.

What is the time o' th' day?

ARIEL.

Past the mid season.

PROSPERO.

At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now

Must by us both be spent most preciously.

ARIEL.

Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,

Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,

Which is not yet perform'd me.

PROSPERO.

How now, moody?

What is't thou canst demand?

ARIEL.

My liberty.

PROSPERO.

Before the time be out? No more!

ARIEL.

I prithee,

Remember I have done thee worthy service,

Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd

Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst promise

To bate me a full year.

PROSPERO.

Dost thou forget

From what a torment I did free thee?

ARIEL.

No.

PROSPERO.

Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze

Of the salt deep,

To run upon the sharp wind of the north,

To do me business in the veins o' th' earth

When it is bak'd with frost.

ARIEL.

I do not, sir.

PROSPERO.

Thou liest, malignant thing. Hast thou forgot

The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy

Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her?

ARIEL.

No, sir.

PROSPERO.

Thou hast. Where was she born?

Speak; tell me.

ARIEL.

Sir, in Argier.

PROSPERO.

O, was she so? I must

Once in a month recount what thou hast been,

Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,

For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible

To enter human hearing, from Argier

Thou know'st was banish'd; for one thing she did

They would not take her life. Is not this true?

ARIEL.

Ay, sir.

PROSPERO.

This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,

And here was left by th'sailors. Thou, my slave,

As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant;

And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate

To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,

Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,

By help of her more potent ministers,

And in her most unmitigable rage,

Into a cloven pine; within which rift

Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain

A dozen years; within which space she died,

And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans

As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island-

Save for the son that she did litter here,

A freckl'd whelp, hag-born-not honour'd with

A human shape.

ARIEL.

Yes, Caliban her son.

PROSPERO.

Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban

Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st

What torment I did find thee in; thy groans

Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts

Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment

To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax

Could not again undo. It was mine art,

When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape

The pine, and let thee out.

ARIEL.

I thank thee, master.

PROSPERO.

If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak

And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till

Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

ARIEL.

Pardon, master;

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my spriting gently.

PROSPERO.

Do so; and after two days

I will discharge thee.

ARIEL.

That's my noble master!

What shall I do? Say what. What shall I do?

PROSPERO.

Go make thyself like a nymph o' th' sea; be subject

To no sight but thine and mine, invisible

To every eyeball else. Go take this shape,

And hither come in 't. Go, hence with diligence!

Exit ARIEL

Awake, dear heart, awake; thou hast slept well;

Awake.

MIRANDA.

The strangeness of your story put

Heaviness in me.

PROSPERO.

Shake it off. Come on,

We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never

Yields us kind answer.

MIRANDA.

'Tis a villain, sir,

I do not love to look on.

PROSPERO.

But as 'tis,

We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,

Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices

That profit us. What ho! slave! Caliban!

Thou earth, thou! Speak.

CALIBAN.

[Within] There's wood enough within.

PROSPERO.

Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee.

Come, thou tortoise! when?

Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph

Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

Hark

Return Main Page Previous Page Next Page

®Online Book Reader