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' th' earth
When it is bak'd with frost.
I do not, sir.
Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot
The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy
Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her?
Thou hast. Where was she born?
Speak; tell me.
Sir, in Argier.
O! was she so? I must
Once in a month recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know'st,was banish'd: for one thing she did
They would not take her life. Is not this true?
This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant:
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd, thou didst painfully remain
A dozen years; within which space 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,
A freckl'd whelp, hag-born — not honour'd with
A human shape.
Yes; Caliban her son.
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 breasts
Of ever-angry bears: it was a torment
To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not again undo; it was mine art,
When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.
I thank thee, master.
If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak
And peg thee in his knotty entrails till
Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.
I will be correspondent to command,
And do my spriting gently.
Do so; and after two days
I will discharge thee.
That's my noble master!
What shall I do? Say what? What shall I do?
Go make thyself like a nymph o' th' sea: be subject
To no sight but thine and mine; invisible
To every eyeball else. Go, take this shape,
And hither come in 't: go, hence with diligence!
Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;
[Waking] The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.
Shake it off. Come on;
We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.
'Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.
But as 'tis,
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood; and serves in offices
That profit us. — What ho! slave! Caliban!
Thou earth, thou! Speak.
[Within] There's wood enough within.
Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee:
Come, thou tortoise! when?
[Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph.]
Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
Hark in thine ear.
My lord, it shall be done.