ARIEL.                                              Pardon, master:

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my spiriting 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 of the 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. (Waking) 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 in thine ear.

ARIEL.                                              My lord, it shall be done.                                              Exit

PROSPERO. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself

Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Enter Caliban

CALIBAN. As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’d

With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen

Drop on you both! A south-west blow on ye,

And blister you all o’er!

PROSPERO. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,

Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins

Shall forth at vast of night, that they may work

All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch’d

As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging

Than bees that made them.

CALIBAN.                                              I must eat my dinner.

This island ’s mine, by Sycorax my mother,

Which thou tak’st from me. When thou camest first,

Thou strok’dst me, and mad’st much of me; wouldst give

me

Water with berries in ’t; and teach me how

To name the bigger light, and how the less,

That burn by day and night: and then I lov’d thee

And show’d thee all the qualities o’ th’ isle,

The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place, and fertile.