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Antonio: Where is the master, boatswain?Boatswain: Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your cabins; you do assist the storm.Gonzalo: Nay, good, be patient.Boatswain: When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers for the name of king? To cabin! silence! Trouble us not.Gonzalo: Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.Boatswain: None that I more love than myself. You are counsellor; — if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more. Use your authority; if you cannot, give thanks you have liv'd so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. .
: If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel, Who had, no doubt, some noble creatures in her, Dash'd all to pieces! O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perish'd! Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and The fraughting souls within her.: Be collected; No more amazement; tell your piteous heart There's no harm done.Miranda: O, woe the day!Prospero: No harm. I have done nothing but in care of thee — Of thee, my dear one! thee, my daughter. .
Know thus far forth: By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune — Now my dear lady — hath mine enemies Brought to this shore; and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. .
: 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!Prospero: For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em. .
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' the 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. .
Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes; Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them — Ding-dong, bell. .
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats, To whom I am subdu'd, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid. All corners else o' th' earth Let liberty make use of; space enough Have I in such a prison. .
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