O, my heart bleeds To think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to, Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.

Hear a little further And then I’ll bring thee to the present business Which now’s upon’s; without the which this story Were most impertinent.

Alack, what trouble Was I then to you!

Now I arise: Resumes his mantle. Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arrived; and here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princesses can that have more time For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.

Heavens thank you for’t! And now, I pray you, sir, For still ’tis beating in my mind, your reason For raising this sea-storm?

Know thus far forth. By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies Brought to this shore; and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions: Thou art inclined to sleep; ’tis a good dulness, And give it way: I know thou canst not choose. Miranda sleeps. Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. Approach, my Ariel, come.

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.

Hast thou, spirit, Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee?

To every article. I boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flamed amazement: sometime I’ld divide, And burn in many places; on the topmast, The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, Then meet and join. Jove’s lightnings, the precursors O’ the 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.

My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Would not infect his reason?

Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad and play’d Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners Plunged 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 leap’d; cried, “Hell is empty And all the devils are here.”

Why that’s my spirit! But was not this nigh shore?

Not a hair perish’d; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me, In troops I have dispersed 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.

Of the king’s ship The mariners say how thou hast disposed And all the rest o’ the fleet.