Lingering perdition-worse than any death
Can be at once-shall step by step attend

You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you
from,-

Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls 80
Upon your heads,-is nothing but heart-sorrow
And a clear life ensuing.

He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music,
enter the Shapes again, and dance, with mocks
and mows, and carrying out the table.

Pros. Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou
Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring:
Ot my instruction hast thou nothing bated
In what thou hadst to say so, with good life
And observation strange, my meaner ministers
Their several kinds have done. My high charms
work,

And these mine enemies are all knit up

In their distractions: they now are in my power; 90
And in these fits I leave them, while I visit

Young Ferdinand,-whom they suppose is drown'd,—
And his and mine loved darling.

[Exit above.

Gon. I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand

you

Alon.

Seb.

Ant.

In this strange stare?

O, it is monstrous, monstrous!
Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it;
The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced
The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.
Therefore my son i' th' ooze is bedded; and
I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded,
And with him there lie mudded.

I'll fight their legions o'er.

100

[Exit.

But one fiend at a time,

I'll be thy second.

[Exeunt Seb. and Ant. their great guilt,

Gon. All three of them are desperate

Adr.

Like poison given to work a great time after,
Now 'gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you,
That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly,
And hinder them from what this ecstasy

May now provoke them to.

Follow, I pray you. [Exeunt.

Act Fourth.

Scene I.

Before Prospero's cell.

Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.

Pros. If I have too austerely punish'd you,
Your compensation makes amends; for I
Have given you here a third of mine own life,
Or that for which I live; who once again
I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations
Were but my trials of thy love, and thou
Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore Heaven,
I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,
Do not smile at me that I boast her off,
For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise,
And make it halt behind her.

Fer.

Against an oracle.

I do believe it

Pros. Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition
Worthily purchased, take my daughter: but
If thou dost break her virgin-knot before
All sanctimonious ceremonies may

ΙΟ

Fer.

Pros.

With full and holy rite be minister'd,
No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall
To make this contract grow; but barren hate,
Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew
The union of your bed with weeds so loathly
That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed,
As Hymen's lamps shall light you.

As I hope
For quiet days, fair issue and long life,

With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den,

The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion
Our worser genius can, shall never melt

Mine honour into lust, to take away

The edge of that day's celebration

20

When I shall think, or Phœbus' steeds are founder'd,
Or Night kept chain'd below.

Fairly spoke.

Sit, then, and talk with her; she is thine own.
What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!

Enter Ariel.

Ari. What would my potent master? here I am.
Pros. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service
Did worthily perform; and I must use you

31

Ari.

In such another trick. Go bring the rabble,

O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place:
Incite them to quick motion; for I must
Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple
Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise,

And they expect it from me.

Pros. Ay, with a twink.

Ari.

Presently?

Before you can say, 'come,' and 'go,’
And breathe twice, and cry, 'so, so,'

Each one, tripping on his toe,

Will be here with mop and mow.
Do you love me, master? no?

Pros. Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach
Till thou dost hear me call.

Ari.

40

Well, I conceive. [Exit. 50

Pros. Look thou be true; do not give dalliance

Fer.

Pros.

Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw
To the fire i' the blood: be more abstemious,

Or else, good night your vow!

I warrant you, sir ;
The white cold virgin snow upon my heart
Abates the ardour of my liver.

Well.