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STEPHANO.

       Ay, and this.

       [A noise of hunters beard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of hounds, and hunt them about; PROSPERO and ARIEL setting them on]

       PROSPERO.

       Hey, Mountain, hey!

       ARIEL.

       Silver! there it goes, Silver!

       PROSPERO.

       Fury, Fury! There, Tyrant, there! hark, hark!

       [CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO are driven out.]

       Go, charge my goblins that they grind their joints

       With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews

       With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them

       Than pard, or cat o’ mountain.

       ARIEL.

       Hark, they roar.

       PROSPERO.

       Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour

       Lies at my mercy all mine enemies;

       Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou

       Shalt have the air at freedom;for a little

       Follow, and do me service.

       [Exeunt]

       ACT 5

       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.

       PROSPERO.

       And mine shall.

       Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling

       Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,

       One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,

       Passion as they, be kindlier mov’d than thou art?

       Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,

       Yet with my nobler reason ‘gainst my fury

       Do I take part: the rarer action is

       In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent,

       The sole drift of my purpose doth extend

       Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel.

       My charms I’ll break, their senses I’ll restore,

       And they shall be themselves.

       ARIEL.

       I’ll fetch them, sir.

       [Exit.]

       PROSPERO.

       Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and

       groves;

       And ye that on the sands with printless foot

       Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him

       When he comes back; you demi-puppets that

       By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,

       Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime

       Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice

       To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,—

       Weak masters though ye be,—I have bedimm’d

       The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds,

       And ‘twixt the green sea and the azur’d vault

       Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder

       Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak

       With his own bolt: the strong-bas’d promontory

       Have I made shake; and by the spurs pluck’d up

       The pine and cedar: graves at my command

       Have wak’d their sleepers, op’d, and let them forth

       By my so potent art. But this rough magic

       I here abjure; and, when I have requir’d

       Some heavenly music,—which even now I do,—

       To work mine end upon their senses that

       This airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff,

       Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,

       And deeper than did ever plummet sound

       I’ll drown my book.

       [Solem music]

       [Re-enter ARIEL: after him, ALONSO, with frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner, attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO: they all enter the circle which PROSPERO had made, and there stand charmed: which PROSPERO observing, speaks.]

       A solemn air, and the best comforter

       To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains,

       Now useless, boil’d within thy skull! There stand,

       For you are spell-stopp’d.

       Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,

       Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine,

       Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace;

       And as the morning steals upon the night,

       Melting the darkness, so their rising senses

       Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle

       Their clearer reason.—O good Gonzalo!

       My true preserver, and a loyal sir

       To him thou follow’st, I will pay thy graces

       Home, both in word and deed.—Most cruelly

       Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter:

       Thy brother was a furtherer in the act;—

       Thou’rt pinch’d for’t now, Sebastian.—Flesh and blood,

       You, brother mine, that entertain’d ambition,

       Expell’d remorse and nature, who, with Sebastian,—

       Whose inward pinches therefore

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