_Prosp._ This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my slave, As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant; And, 'cause thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorred commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers, (In her unmitigable rage) into a cloven pine; Within whose rift imprisoned, thou didst painfully Remain a dozen years, within which space she died, And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans, As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this isle (Save for two brats, which she did litter here, The brutish Caliban, and his twin-sister, Two freckled hag-born whelps) not honoured with A human shape. _Ariel._ Yes; Caliban her son, and Sycorax his sister. _Prosp._ Dull thing! I say so.--He, That Caliban, and she, that Sycorax, Whom I now keep in service. Thou best know'st What torment I did find thee in; thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment To lay upon the damned, which Sycorax Could ne'er again undo: It was my art, When I arrived and heard thee, that made the pine To gape, and let thee out. _Ariel._ I thank thee, master. _Prosp._ If thou more murmurest, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till thou Hast howled away twelve winters more. _Ariel._ Pardon, master; I will be correspondent to command, And be a gentle spirit. _Prosp._ Do so; and after two days I'll discharge thee. _Ariel._ Thanks, my great master. But I have yet one request. _Prosp._ What's that, my spirit? _Ariel._ I know that this day's business is important, Requiring too much toil for one alone. I have a gentle spirit for my love, Who, twice seven years has waited for my freedom: Let it appear, it will assist me much, And we with mutual joy shall entertain Each other. This, I beseech you, grant me. _Prosp._ You shall have your desire. _Ariel._ That's my noble master.--Milcha! [MILCHA _flies down to his assistance_. _Milc._ I am here, my love. _Ariel._ Thou art free! Welcome, my dear!-- What shall we do? Say, say, what shall we do? _Prosp._ Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible To every eye-ball else. Hence, with diligence; Anon thou shalt know more. [_They both fly up, and cross in the air._ Thou hast slept well, my child. [_To_ MIR. _Mir._ The sadness of your story put heaviness in me. _Prosp._ Shake it off.--Come on, I'll now call Caliban, my slave, who never yields us a kind answer. _Mir._ 'Tis a creature, sir, I do not love to look on. _Prosp._ But, as it is, we cannot miss him: He does make our fire, fetch in our wood, and serve in offices that profit us.--What ho, slave! Caliban! thou earth, thou, speak!