Pro. At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & now Must by vs both be spent most preciously Ar. Is there more toyle? Since y dost giue me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me Pro. How now? moodie? What is't thou canst demand? Ar. My Libertie Pro. Before the time be out? no more: Ar. I prethee, Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice, Told thee no lyes, made thee no mistakings, serv'd Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promise To bate me a full yeere Pro. Do'st thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? Ar. No Pro. Thou do'st: & thinkst it much to tread y Ooze Of the salt deepe; To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North, To doe me businesse in the veines o'th' earth When it is bak'd with frost Ar. I doe not Sir Pro. Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot The fowle Witch Sycorax, who with Age and Enuy Was growne into a hoope? hast thou forgot her? Ar. No Sir Pro. Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me: Ar. Sir, in Argier Pro. Oh, was she so: I must Once in a moneth recount what thou hast bin, Which thou forgetst. This damn'd Witch Sycorax For mischiefes manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter humane hearing, from Argier Thou know'st was banish'd: for one thing she did They wold not take her life: Is not this true? Ar. I, Sir Pro. This blew ey'd hag, was hither brought with child, And here was left by th' Saylors; thou my slaue, As thou reportst thy selfe, was then her seruant, And for thou wast a Spirit too delicate To act her earthy, and abhord commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee By helpe of her more potent Ministers, And in her most vnmittigable rage, Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift Imprison'd, thou didst painefully remaine A dozen yeeres: within which space she di'd, And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanes As fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island (Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere, A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd with A humane shape Ar. Yes: Caliban her sonne Pro. Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban Whom now I keepe in seruice, thou best know'st What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breasts Of euer-angry Beares; it was a torment To lay vpon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not againe vndoe: it was mine Art, When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gape The Pyne, and let thee out Ar. I thanke thee Master Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an Oake And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till Thou hast howl'd away twelue winters Ar. Pardon, Master, I will be correspondent to command And doe my spryting, gently Pro. Doe so: and after two daies I will discharge thee Ar. That's my noble Master: What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe?