By ’r lakin, I can go no further, sir;

My old bones ache: here’s a maze trod, indeed,

Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience,

I needs must rest me.

Old lord, I cannot blame thee,

Who am myself attach’d with weariness

To th’ dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest.

Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it

No longer for my flatterer: he is drown’d

Whom thus we stray to find; and the sea mocks

Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.

[_Aside to Sebastian._] I am right glad that he’s

so out of hope.

Do not, for one repulse, forgo the purpose

That you resolv’d to effect.

[_Aside to Antonio._] The next advantage

Will we take throughly.

[_Aside to Sebastian._] Let it be tonight;

For, now they are oppress’d with travel, they

Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance

As when they are fresh.

[_Aside to Antonio._] I say, tonight: no more.

What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!

Marvellous sweet music!

Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?

A living drollery. Now I will believe

That there are unicorns; that in Arabia

There is one tree, the phoenix’ throne; one phoenix

At this hour reigning there.

I’ll believe both;

And what does else want credit, come to me,

And I’ll be sworn ’tis true: travellers ne’er did lie,

Though fools at home condemn them.

If in Naples

I should report this now, would they believe me?

If I should say, I saw such islanders,—

For, certes, these are people of the island,—

Who, though, they are of monstrous shape, yet, note,

Their manners are more gentle, kind, than of

Our human generation you shall find

Many, nay, almost any.

[_Aside._] Honest lord,

Thou hast said well; for some of you there present

Are worse than devils.

I cannot too much muse

Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing—

Although they want the use of tongue—a kind

Of excellent dumb discourse.

[_Aside._] Praise in departing.

They vanish’d strangely.

No matter, since

They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.—

Will’t please you taste of what is here?

Not I.

Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,

Who would believe that there were mountaineers

Dewlapp’d like bulls, whose throats had hanging at ’em

Wallets of flesh? Or that there were such men

Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find

Each putter-out of five for one will bring us

Good warrant of.

I will stand to, and feed,

Although my last, no matter, since I feel

The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke,

Stand to, and do as we.

You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,

That hath to instrument this lower world

And what is in’t,—the never-surfeited sea

Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island

Where man doth not inhabit; you ’mongst men

Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad;

And even with such-like valour men hang and drown

Their proper selves.

You fools! I and my fellows

Are ministers of Fate: the elements

Of whom your swords are temper’d may as well

Wound the loud winds, or with bemock’d-at stabs

Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish

One dowle that’s in my plume. My fellow-ministers

Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,

Your swords are now too massy for your strengths,

And will not be uplifted. But, remember—

For that’s my business to you,—that you three

From Milan did supplant good Prospero;

Expos’d unto the sea, which hath requit it,

Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed

The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have

Incens’d the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,

Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,

They have bereft; and do pronounce, by me

Ling’ring 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

Upon your heads,—is nothing but heart-sorrow,

And a clear life ensuing.

[_Aside._] Bravely the figure of this Harpy hast thou

Perform’d, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring.

Of 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;

And in these fits I leave them, while I visit

Young Ferdinand,—whom they suppose is drown’d,—

And his and mine lov’d darling.

I’ the name of something holy, sir, why stand you

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, pronounc’d

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.

But one fiend at a time,

I’ll fight their legions o’er.

I’ll be thy second.

All three of them are desperate: their great guilt,

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.