Brick Shakespeare: The Comedies—A Midsummer Night's Dream, The Tempest, Much Ado About Nothing, and The Taming of the Shrew (47 page)

STEPHANO

Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this away where my hogshead of wine is, or I’ll turn you out of my kingdom: go to, carry this.

TRINCULO

And this.

STEPHANO

Ay, and this.

PROSPERO

Hey, Mountain, hey!

ARIEL

Silver! there it goes, Silver!

PROSPERO

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

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

Lie 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.

ACT V. Scene I (lines 1–318).

N
ow that Caliban and the fools have been taken care of, Prospero prepares for the final act in his grand plan.

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 raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,

How fares the king and ’s followers?

ARIEL

Confined 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.

ARIEL (cont.)

The king,

His brother and yours, abide all three distracted,

And the remainder mourning over them,

Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly

Him that 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 ’em

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 moved 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.

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 azured vault

Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder

PROSPERO (cont.)

Have I given fire and rifted Jove’s stout oak

With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory

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

The pine and cedar: graves at my command

Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let ’em forth

By my so potent art. But this rough magic

I here abjure, and, when I have required

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,