ACT V
SCENE I. Before the cell of PROSPERO.
[Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes; and ARIEL.]
PROSPERO.
Now does my project gather to a head:
My charms crack not; my spirits obey, and time
Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day?
ARIEL.
On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,
You said our work should cease.
PROSPERO.
I did say so,
When first I rais'd the tempest. Say, my spirit,
How fares the King and 's followers?
ARIEL.
Confin'd together
In the same fashion as you gave in charge;
Just as you left them: all prisoners, sir,
In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell;
They cannot budge till your release. The king,
His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brim full of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly
Him you term'd, sir, 'the good old lord, Gonzalo':
His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops
From eaves of reeds; your charm so strongly works them,
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.
PROSPERO.
Dost thou think so, spirit?
ARIEL.
Mine would, sir, were I human.
