Уильям Шекспир - The Tempest стр 3.

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Enter ARIEL

  ARIEL. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
    To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
    To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
    On the curl'd clouds. To thy strong bidding task
    Ariel and all his quality.
  PROSPERO. Hast thou, spirit,
    Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
  ARIEL. To every article.
    I boarded the King's ship; now on the beak,
    Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
    I flam'd amazement. Sometime I'd divide,
    And burn in many places; on the topmast,
    The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
    Then meet and join Jove's lightning, the precursors
    O' th' dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
    And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks
    Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
    Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,
    Yea, his dread trident shake.
  PROSPERO. My brave spirit!
    Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
    Would not infect his reason?
  ARIEL. Not a soul
    But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
    Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners
    Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
    Then all afire with me; the King's son, Ferdinand,
    With hair up-staring-then like reeds, not hair-
    Was the first man that leapt; cried 'Hell is empty,
    And all the devils are here.'
  PROSPERO. Why, that's my spirit!
    But was not this nigh shore?
  ARIEL. Close by, my master.
  PROSPERO. But are they, Ariel, safe?
  ARIEL. Not a hair perish'd;
    On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
    But fresher than before; and, as thou bad'st me,
    In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle.
    The King's son have I landed by himself,
    Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs
    In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
    His arms in this sad knot.
  PROSPERO. Of the King's ship,
    The mariners, say how thou hast dispos'd,
    And all the rest o' th' fleet?
  ARIEL. Safely in harbour
    Is the King's ship; in the deep nook, where once
    Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
    From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid;
    The mariners all under hatches stowed,
    Who, with a charm join'd to their suff'red labour,
    I have left asleep; and for the rest o' th' fleet,
    Which I dispers'd, they all have met again,
    And are upon the Mediterranean flote
    Bound sadly home for Naples,
    Supposing that they saw the King's ship wreck'd,
    And his great person perish.
  PROSPERO. Ariel, thy charge
    Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work.
    What is the time o' th' day?
  ARIEL. Past the mid season.
  PROSPERO. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now
    Must by us both be spent most preciously.
  ARIEL. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,
    Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
    Which is not yet perform'd me.
  PROSPERO. How now, moody?
    What is't thou canst demand?
  ARIEL. My liberty.
  PROSPERO. Before the time be out? No more!
  ARIEL. I prithee,
    Remember I have done thee worthy service,
    Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd
    Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst promise
    To bate me a full year.
  PROSPERO. Dost thou forget
    From what a torment I did free thee?
  ARIEL. No.
  PROSPERO. 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.
  ARIEL. I do not, sir.
  PROSPERO. 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?
  ARIEL. No, sir.
  PROSPERO. Thou hast. Where was she born?
    Speak; tell me.
  ARIEL. Sir, in Argier.
  PROSPERO. 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?
  ARIEL. Ay, sir.
  PROSPERO. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,
    And here was left by th'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.
  ARIEL. Yes, Caliban her son.
  PROSPERO. 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.
  ARIEL. I thank thee, master.
  PROSPERO. 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.
  ARIEL. Pardon, master;
    I will be correspondent to command,
    And do my spriting gently.
  PROSPERO. Do so; and after two days
    I will discharge thee.
  ARIEL. That's my noble master!
    What shall I do? Say what. What shall I do?
  PROSPERO. 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!
                                                      Exit ARIEL
    Awake, dear heart, awake; thou hast slept well;
    Awake.
  MIRANDA. The strangeness of your story put
    Heaviness in me.
  PROSPERO. Shake it off. Come on,
    We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
    Yields us kind answer.
  MIRANDA. 'Tis a villain, sir,
    I do not love to look on.
  PROSPERO. 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.
  CALIBAN. [ Within] There's wood enough within.
  PROSPERO. Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee.
    Come, thou tortoise! when?

Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph

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