I must obey-his art is of such power, [growls to himself It would control my dam's god Setebos, And make a vassal of him. Prospero. So, slave, hence! [Caliban slinks away. Prospero and Miranda withdraw a little within the cave Music heard: ARIEL ‘invisible, playing and singing'; FERDINAND following down the cliff path. ARIEL'S SONG. Come unto these yellow sands, Curtsied when you have, and kissed The wild waves whist: Foot it featly here and there, And sweet sprites bear The burthen...Hark! Hark! 'Burthen dispersedly.' Bow-wow! Ariel. The watch-dogs bark: Burthen. Bow-wow! Ariel. Hark, hark, I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Burthen. Cockadiddle-dow! Ferdinand. Where should this music be? i'th'air, or th'earth? It sounds no more: and sure it waits upon With its sweet air: thence I have followed it Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.... ARIEL'S SONG. Full fathom five thy father lies, Ariel. Hark! now I hear them- Lucretiren De Rerum Notuna! Ferdinand. The ditty does remember my drowned father. This is no mortal business, nor no sound Prospero [leading Miranda from the cave]. The fringéd And say what thou seest yond. Miranda. What is't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about... Believe me, sir, Prospero. No wench, it eats and sleeps and hath As we have such.... This gallant which thou seest -thou mightst call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, Miranda [moving forward, under the spell]. I might A thing divine for nothing natural Prospero [holding back]. It goes on I see, Ferdinand [as Miranda confronts him]. Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend... Vouchsafe my prayer If you be maid, or no? Miranda. But certainly a maid. No wonder, sir, My language? heavens... I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken. Prospero [advancing]. How? the best? What wert thou if the King of Naples heard thee? Ferdinand. 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-never since at ebb-beheld The king my father wracked. Miranda. Alack, for mercy! Ferdinand. Yes, faith, and all his lords-the Duke of Milan And his brave son being twain. The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could control thee, They have changed eyes... Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this....[sternly] A word, good sir. Miranda. Why speaks my father so ungently? This Is the third man that e'er I saw...the first, That e'er I sighed for: pity move my father To be inclined my way. And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples. Prospero. Soft, sir, one word more.... They are both in either's power: but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light....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. Ferdinand. No, as I am a man. Miranda. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't. Prospero [imperatively to Ferdinand]. Follow me... [to Miranda] Speak not you for him: he's a traitor...[to Ferdinand] Come, I'll manacle thy neck and feet together: Sea-water shalt thou drink: thy food shall be 'The fresh-brook mussels, withered roots, and husks Wherein the acorn cradled.... Follow. Ferdinand. I will resist such entertainment, till Mine enemy has more power. Miranda. No, ['he draws and is charmed from moving' O dear father, Make not too rash a trial of him, for He's gentle, and not fearful. My foot my tutor! Put thy sword up traitor, Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike...thy conscience Is so possessed with guilt: come, from thy ward, For I can here disarm thee with this stick, And make thy weapon drop. [Ferdinand's sword falls from his hand Miranda [plucking his mantle]. Beseech you father. Prospero. Hence: hang not on my garments. Miranda. I'll be his surety. Prospero. Sir have pity, Silence: one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: what, And they to him are angels. Miranda. My affections Are then most humble: I have no ambition Prospero [to Ferdinand]. Come on, obey: Thy nerves are in their infancy again, And have no vigour in them. Ferdinand. So they are: My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up... The wrack of all my friends, nor this man's threats, To whom I am subdued, are 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. Prospero. It works...[to Ferdinand] Come on.... |