FERDINAND. So, in sooth, he doth. His wisdom rings but hollowly, and all His speech declares a studied wilfulness Such as we note in him who acts a part That finds no smallest likeness in himself. _Soft music heard, followed by a dance of elves._ [_Exeunt_ FERDINAND _and_ MIRANDA. SCENE VII. _Still another part of the island._ _Enter_ PROSPERO. PROSPERO. Now have I ’complish’d that I did intend,-- Dispers’d Miranda’s sadness utterly, And, for a brief space, made the airy dreams Of Master Shakescene take on form again As erst in other lands and climes, that so These married lovers might be entertain’d Full pleasingly, and gather from the hours Spent in this isle of summer, honey’d sweets For fond remembrance in the tide of time. My Ariel! What, Ariel, I say! [_Enter_ ARIEL. Thanks, gentle Ariel, who hast again Done all my bidding. But for thee my art Had halted ere its best. Once more receive My thanks, who am much bound to thee. ARIEL. This time, Good master Prospero, I serv’d for love Not duty, and I count your thanks reward In fullest measure. And there be nothing else You would of me, then, Prospero, adieu. PROSPERO. Adieu, gentlest of spirits, Ariel. [_Exit_ ARIEL. _Thunder heard and_ PROSPERO _vanishes_. SCENE VIII. _A room in the palace at Naples._ [_Enter_ FERDINAND _and_ MIRANDA. MIRANDA. O Ferdinand, my love, last night I slept And sleeping dream’d, and in my dream I saw The isle where first you knew me, where we told Each to the other our fond loves. Methought I was by you companion’d and the hours Did move to music while there pass’d before Our wond’ring eyes, as for our sole delight, A many folk, strange sorted, who did talk Together, and at whiles as ’twere a play And we beholding it. ’Twas wondrous strange. FERDINAND. O, my Miranda, sure some power we wot Not of doth play with us as we at chess Do move the pieces this way first and that, Because our will is to’t. Know then that I Did dream the fellow unto yours (if it In very truth were that and nothing more). Like you, I vis’ted that sweet spot, with you Beside the while, and did behold, as on A stage a company of players strut Their hour or two, a band of merry folk With some that wept and cried out upon fate. Who knoweth, my Miranda, what doth hap To us when we do sleep? At whiles we note In slumber tokens of a life apart From this, alike, yet not alike, and who May say how far the spirit wanders when The body sleeps?