Prospero's Books Page #3

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Is there more toil?

Since thou dost give me pains,

let me remember thee what thou hast

promis'd, which is not yet perform'd me.

What is't thou canst demand?

- My liberty.

Before the time be out? No more!

remember I have done thee worthy service,

told thee no lies,

serv'd without or grudge or grumblings.

Thou didst promise to bate me a full year.

Dost thou forget from what a torment I did free thee?

No.

- Thou dost;

and think'st it much to tread the ooze

Of the salt deep,

to run upon the sharp wind of the north,

to do me business in the veins o' th' earth

when it is bak'd with frost.

I do not, sir.

- Thou liest, malignant thing.

Hast thou forgot the foul witch Sycorax,

who with age and envy

was grown into a hoop?

Hast thou forgot her?

No, sir.

- Thou hast. Where was she born?

Speak; tell me.

- Sir, in Argier.

O, was she so? I must Once in a month

recount what thou hast been,

Which thou forget'st.

This damn'd witch Sycorax,

For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries

terrible to enter human hearing,

from Argier thou know'st was banish'd;

for one thing she did

they would not take her life.

This blue-ey'd hag

was hither brought with child,

and here was left by th'sailors.

Thou, my slave, as thou report'st thyself,

wast then her servant;

And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate

to act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,

refusing her grand hests,

she did confine thee,

by help of her more potent ministers,

and in her most unmitigable rage,

into a cloven pine;

within which rift imprison'd 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.

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 damn'd,

which Sycorax could not again undo.

Then was this island - save for the son

that she did litter here,

a freckl'd whelp, hag-born-not honour'd

with a human shape.

that Caliban whom now I keep in service.

It was mine art,

when I arriv'd and heard thee,

that made gape The pine,

and let thee out.

If thou more murmur'st,

I will rend an oak

and peg thee in his knotty entrails,

till thou hast howl'd away

twelve winters.

Pardon, master;

I will be correspondent to command,

and do my spriting gently.

Do so; and in two days I will discharge thee.

Awake, dear heart, awake;

Come on, we'll visit Caliban, my slave,

who never yields us kind answer.

What ho! slave! Caliban!

Thou earth, thou! Speak.

The Book of the Earth

A thick book

covered in khaki-coloured webbing,

its pages are impregnated

with the minerals, acids,

alkalis, gums, balms and

aphrodisiacs of the earth.

Come forth,

As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd

with raven's feather

from unwholesome fen,

drop on you both!

A south-west blow on ye

and blister you all o'er!

This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,

which thou tak'st from me.

When thou cam'st first, thou strok'st me

and made much of me,

wouldst give me water with berries in't,

and teach me how to name the bigger light,

and how the less, that burn

by day and night;

and then I lov'd thee, and show'd

thee all the qualities o' th' isle,

the fresh springs, brine-pits,

barren place and fertile.

Curs'd be I that did so!

All the charms of Sycorax, toads,

beetles, bats, light on you!

For I am all the subjects that you have,

which first was mine own king;

and here you sty me in this hard rock,

whiles you do keep from me

the rest o' th' island.

Thou most lying slave, whom stripes

may move, not kindness!

I have us'd thee, filth as thou art,

with human care,

and lodg'd thee in mine own cell,

till thou didst seek

to violate the honour of my child.

O ho, O ho! Would't had been done.

Thou didst prevent me;

I had peopl'd else this isle

with Calibans.

Abhorred slave,

which any print of goodness wilt not take,

being capable of all ill!

I pitied thee,

took pains to make thee speak,

taught thee each hour one thing or other.

When thou didst not, savage,

know thine own meaning,

but wouldst gabble

like a thing most brutish,

I endow'd thy purposes with words

that made them known.

You taught me language,

and my profit on't Is,

I know how to curse.

The red plague rid you

for learning me your language!

Hag-seed, hence!

Fetch us in fuel.

And be quick, thou 'rt best,

To answer other business.

Shrug'st thou, malice?

If thou neglect'st,

or dost unwillingly what I command,

I'll rack thee with old cramps,

fill all thy bones with aches,

make thee roar,

that beasts shall tremble at thy din.

No, pray thee.

I must obey.

His art is of such pow'r, it would control

my dam's god, Setebos,

and make a vassal of him.

Full fathom five

thy father lies;

Of his bones

are coral made;

This is a herbal to end all herbals,

The pages are stuffed with pressed plants

and flowers, corals and sea weeds,

It is a honeycomb, a hive, a garden

and an ark for insects.

It is an encyclopedia of pollen,

scent and pheromone.

Nothing of him that doth fade

but doth suffer a sea-change

but doth suffer a sea-change

into something rich and strange.

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:

Hark! now I hear them-Ding-dong bell.

What is't? a spirit?

Lord, how it looks about!

Believe me, sir,

it carries a brave form.

But 'tis a spirit.

- No, wench;

it eats and sleeps and hath such senses

As we have, such.

This gallant which thou seest Was in the wreck;

and but he's something stain'd With grief,

that's beauty's canker,

thou mightst call him A goodly person.

He hath lost his fellows,

And strays about to find 'em.

It goes on, I see,

as my soul prompts it.

I might call him a thing divine;

for nothing natural I ever saw so noble.

O you wonder!

If you be maid or no?

No wonder, sir; But certainly a maid.

My language? Heavens!

I am the best of them

that speak this speech,

were I but where 'tis spoken.

How? the best? What wert thou,

if the King of Naples heard thee?

A single thing, as I am now, that wonders

to hear thee speak of Naples.

He does hear me;

And that he does I weep.

Myself am Naples, who with mine eyes,

never since at ebb,

beheld The King my father wreck'd.

This is a scented volume, with crimson ribbons for page-markers.

There is certainly an image in the book

of a naked man and a naked woman,

Everything else is conjecture.

O, if a virgin, and your affection not gone forth,

I'll make you The Queen of Naples.

They are both in either's pow'rs;

but this swift busines

I must uneasy make,

lest too light winning

make the prize light.

I charge thee that thou attend me;

thou dost here usurp

the name thou ow'st not;

and hast put thyself upon

this island as a spy,

to win it from me, the lord on't.

I'll manacle thy neck and feet together.

Sea-water shalt thou drink;

thy food shall be the fresh-brook mussels,

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