Brick Shakespeare: The Comedies—A Midsummer Night's Dream, The Tempest, Much Ado About Nothing, and The Taming of the Shrew (37 page)

PROSPERO

Come on; obey:

Thy nerves are in their infancy again

And have no vigour in them.

FERDINAND

So they are;

My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.

My father’s loss, the weakness which I feel,

The wreck of all my friends, nor this man’s threats,

To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,

Might I but through my prison once a day

Behold this maid: all corners else o’ the earth

Let liberty make use of; space enough

Have I in such a prison.

PROSPERO

It works.

PROSPERO

Come on.

Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!

Follow me.

Hark what thou else shalt do me.

MIRANDA

Be of comfort;

My father’s of a better nature, sir,

Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted

Which now came from him.

PROSPERO

Thou shalt be free

As mountain winds: but then exactly do

All points of my command.

ARIEL

To the syllable.

PROSPERO

Come, follow. Speak not for him.

ACT II. Scene I (186–322).

O
n another part of the island, the other shipwreck victims have found each other and are making their way across the island looking for Ferdinand. They have walked for a while, bickering and chatting. Ariel arrives, unseen by the men, and plays quiet music, bewitching them. All except Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio lay down to sleep.

ALONSO

What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes

Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find

They are inclined to do so.

SEBASTIAN

Please you, sir,

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:

It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,

It is a comforter.

ANTONIO

We two, my lord,

Will guard your person while you take your rest,

And watch your safety.

ALONSO

Thank you. Wondrous heavy.

SEBASTIAN

What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

ANTONIO

It is the quality o’ the climate.

SEBASTIAN

Why

Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not

Myself disposed to sleep.

ANTONIO

Nor I; my spirits are nimble.

They fell together all, as by consent;

They dropp’d, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,

Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?—No more:—

And yet me thinks I see it in thy face,

What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and

My strong imagination sees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.