Now my charms are all oerthrown, And what strength I haves mine own, Which is most faint: now, tis true, I must be here confind by you, Or sent to Naples. Let me not, Since I have my dukedom got And pardond the deceiver, dwell In this bare island by your spell; But release me from my bands With the help of your good hands. Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please. Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; And my ending is despair, Unless I be relievd by prayer, Which pierces so that it assaults Mercy itself, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardond be, Let your indulgence set me free.Prospero