_Prosp._ To execute heaven's laws. Here I am placed by heaven, here I am prince, Though you have dispossessed me of my Milan. Blood calls for blood; your Ferdinand shall die, And I, in bitterness, have sent for you, To have the sudden joy of seeing him alive, And then the greater grief to see him die. _Alonz._ And think'st thou I, or these, will tamely stand, To view the execution? [_Lays hand upon his sword._ _Ferd._ Hold, dear father! I cannot suffer you to attempt against His life, who gave her being, whom I love. _Prosp._ Nay, then appear my guards--I thought no more To use their aid; (I'm cursed because I used it.) [_He stamps, and many Spirits appear._ But they are now the ministers of heaven, Whilst I revenge this murder. _Alonz._ Have I for this Found thee, my son, so soon again to lose thee? Antonio, Gonzalo, speak for pity. _Ferd._ Adieu, my fairest mistress. [_To_ MIR. _Mir._ Now I can hold no longer; I must speak, Though I am loth to disobey you, sir: Be not so cruel to the man I love, Or be so kind to let me suffer with him. _Ferd._ Recall that prayer, or I shall wish to live, Though death be all the 'mends that I can make. _Prosp._ This night I will allow you, Ferdinand, To fit you for your death; that cave's your prison. _Alonz._ Ah, Prospero! hear me speak. You are a father:-- Look on my age, and look upon his youth. _Prosp._ No more! all you can say is urged in vain, I have no room for pity left within me. Do you refuse? help, Ariel, with your fellows, To drive them in; Alonzo and his son Bestow in yonder cave, and here Gonzalo Shall with Antonio lodge. [_Spirits drive them in, as they are appointed._ _Enter_ DORINDA. _Dor._ Sir, I have made a fire; shall he be warmed? _Prosp._ He's dead, and vital warmth will ne'er return. _Dor._ Dead, sir! what's that? _Prosp._ His soul has left his body. _Dor._ When will it come again? _Prosp._ O never, never! He must be laid in earth, and there consume. _Dor._ He shall not lie in earth; you do not know How well he loves me: Indeed he'll come again. He told me he would go a little while, But promised me he would not tarry long. _Prosp._ He's murdered by the man who loved your sister. Now both of you may see what 'tis to break A father's precept; you would needs see man, And by that sight are made for ever wretched; Hippolito is dead, and Ferdinand Must die for murdering him. _Mir._ Have you no pity? _Prosp._ Your disobedience has so much incensed me, That I this night can leave no blessing with you. Help to convey the body to my couch, Then leave me to mourn over it alone. [_They bear off the body of_ HIP.