This Fellow could not drown: Now, Blafphemy, That fwear'ft Grace o'er-board, not an Oath on Shore. What is the News? Boats. The beft News is, that we have fafe found Ari. Sir, all this Service Alon. These are not natural Events; they strengthen Ari. Was't well done? Pro. Bravely, my Diligence; thou shalt be free. Muft re&ifie our Knowledge. Pro. Sir, my Liege, Do not infect your Mind with beating on Untie the Spell. How fares my gracious Sir? There There are yet miffing of your Company Enter Ariel, driving in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, in their follen Apparel, Ste. Every Man fhift for all the reft, and let No man take care for himfelf; for all is But Fortuné; Coragio, Bully-Monster, Coragio. Trin. If these be true Spies which I wear in my Head, Here's a goodly Sight.. Cal. O Setebos, thefe be brave Spirits indeed! How fine my Mafter is! I am afraid He will chaftise me. Seb. Ha. ha; What things are thefe, my Lord Anthonio! 1 Ant. Very like; one of them Is plain Fish, and no doubt marketable. Pro. Mark but the Badges of thefe Men, my Lords, That could controul the Moon, make Flows and Ebbs, Cal. I fhall be pincht to Death. Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken Butler? Where had he Wine? Alon. And Trinculo is reeling-ripe; where fhould they Find this grand Liquor that hath gilded 'em? How cam'ft thou in this pickle ? Trin. I have been in fuch a pickle fince I faw you last, That I fear me will never out of my Bones; I shall not fear fly-blowing. Seb. Why, how now Stephano? Ste. O touch me not: I am not Stephano. but a Cramp. Pro. You'd be King o'th' Ifle, Sirrah? Ste. I fhould have been a fore one then. Alon Alon. 'Tis a ftrange thing as e'er I look'd on. Cal. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wife hereafter, Pro. Go to, away. Alon. Hence, and bestow your Luggage where you found it. Pro. Sir, I invite your Highness and your Train To hear the Story of your Life, which muft Pro. I'll deliver all, And promife you calm Seas, aufpicious Gales, Be free, and fare thou well. Pleafe you draw near. [Exeunt omnes, EPI Spoken by Profpero. Now 1 OW, now my Charms are all o'er-thrown, And what Strength I have's mine own, Which is most faint: Now'tis true Imust be here confin'd by you, Or fent to Naples. Let me not, Since I have my Dukedom got, And pardon'd the Deceiver, dwell In this bare Island by your Spell; But release me from my Bands, With the help of your good Hands. Gentle Breath of yours, my Sails Muft fill, or else my Project fails, Which was to please. Now I want Spirits to enforce, Arts to enchant; And my ending is Despair, Unless 1 be reliev'd by Prayer; Which pierces fo, that it assaults Mercy it felf, and frees all Faults. As you from Crimes would pardon'd be, Let your Indulgence set me free. |