FERDINAND.
Where should this music be? i' th' air or th' earth?
It sounds no more; — and sure it waits upon
Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wrack,
This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion,
With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, —
Or it hath drawn me rather, — but 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.
[ARIEL sings]
Full fathom five thy father lies:
Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
[Burden: Ding-dong.]
Hark! now I hear them — ding-dong, bell.
FERDINAND.
The ditty does remember my drown'd father.
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes: — I hear it now above me.
PROSPERO.
The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And say what thou seest yond.
