Journeys Through Bookland Volume Viii Part 32

_Pros._ Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee?

_Ari._ No.

_Pros._ 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' the earth when it is baked with frost.[383-76]

_Ari._ I do not, sir.

_Pros._ Thou liest, malignant thing![383-77] Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy[383-78]

Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

_Ari._ No, sir.

_Pros._ Thou hast: where was she born? speak; tell me.

_Ari._ Sir, in Argier.[383-79]

_Pros._ O, was she so? I must Once in a month recount what thou hast been, Which thou forgett'st. This d.a.m.n'd witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier, Thou know'st, was banish'd. Is not this true?

_Ari._ Ay, sir.

_Pros._ This blue-eyed hag[383-80] was. .h.i.ther brought, And here was left by th' sailors. Thou, my slave, As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant; And, for[383-81] thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, Refusing her grand hests,[384-82] she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers, And in her most unmitigable rage, Into[384-83] a cloven pine; within which rift Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain A dozen years; within which s.p.a.ce 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,[384-84]

A freckled whelp, hag-born--not honour'd with A human shape.

_Ari._ Yes, Caliban her son.

_Pros._ 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s Of ever-angry bears. It was a torment To lay upon the d.a.m.n'd, which Sycorax Could not again undo: it was mine art, When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape The pine, and let thee out.

_Ari._ I thank thee, master.

_Pros._ If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou'st howl'd away twelve Winters.

_Ari._ Pardon, master: I will be correspondent[384-85] to command, And do my spriting gently.

_Pros._ Do so; and after two days I will discharge thee.

_Ari._ That's my n.o.ble master!

What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?

_Pros._ Go make thyself like to a nymph o' the sea: Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible To every eyeball else. Go take this shape, And hither come in't: hence, with diligence!-- [_Exit ARIEL._ Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!

_Mira._ [_Waking._] The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me.

_Pros._ Shake it off. Come on; We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never Yields us kind answer.

_Mira._ 'Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on.

_Pros._ But, as 'tis, We cannot miss him:[385-86] he does make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices That profit us.--What, ho! slave! Caliban!

Thou earth, thou! speak.

_Cal._ [_Within._] There's wood enough within.

_Pros._ Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee: Come forth, thou tortoise! when![385-87]--

_Re-enter ARIEL, like a Water-nymph._

Fine apparition! My quaint[386-88] Ariel, Hark in thine ear.

_Ari._ My lord, it shall be done. [_Exit._

_Pros._ Thou poisonous slave, come forth!

_Enter CALIBAN._

_Cal._ As wicked[386-89] 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![386-90]

_Pros._ For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-st.i.tches[386-91] that shall pen thy breath up; urchins[386-92]

Shall, for that vast[386-93] 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 'em.

_Cal._ I must eat my dinner This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother.

Which thou takest from me. When thou camest here first, Thou strokedst me, and madest much of me; wouldst give me Water with berries in't[386-94] and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place, and fertile.

Cursed be that I did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!

For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king: and here you sty[387-95] me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o' the island.

_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, Know thine own meaning,[387-96] 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 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[387-97] you For learning me your language!

_Pros._ Hag-seed, hence!

Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best, To answer other business. Shrugg'st thou, malice?

If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old[388-98] cramps, Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar, 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 G.o.d, Setebos, And make a va.s.sal 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, And then take hands: Curtsied when you have, and kiss'd The wild waves whist,[388-99]

Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

Hark, hark! { _Burden dispersedly._ The watch-dogs bark: { Bow-wow.

Hark, hark! I hear; { Bow-wow.

The strain of strutting { chanticleer. { c.o.c.k-a-diddle-dow.

_Ferd._ Where should this music be? i' the air, or th' earth?