Pro. My braue Spirit, Who was so firme, so constant, that this coyle Would not infect his reason?
Ar. Not a soule But felt a Feauer of the madde, and plaid Some tricks of desperation; all but Mariners Plung'd in the foaming bryne, and quit the vessell; Then all a fire with me the Kings sonne Ferdinand With haire vp-staring (then like reeds, not haire) Was the first man that leapt; cride hell is empty, And all the Diuels are heere
Pro. Why that's my spirit: But was not this nye shore?
Ar. Close by, my Master
Pro. But are they (Ariell) safe?
Ar. Not a haire perishd: On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher then before: and as thou badst me, In troops I haue dispersd them 'bout the Isle: The Kings sonne haue I landed by himselfe, Whom I left cooling of the Ayre with sighes, In an odde Angle of the Isle, and sitting His armes in this sad knot
Pro. Of the Kings ship, The Marriners, say how thou hast disposd, And all the rest o'th' Fleete?
Ar. Safely in harbour Is the Kings shippe, in the deepe Nooke, where once Thou calldst me vp at midnight to fetch dewe From the still-vext Bermoothes, there she's hid; The Marriners all vnder hatches stowed, Who, with a Charme ioynd to their suffred labour I haue left asleep: and for the rest o'th' Fleet (Which I dispers'd) they all haue met againe, And are vpon the Mediterranian Flote Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the Kings ship wrackt, And his great person perish
Pro. Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform'd; but there's more worke: What is the time o'th' day?
Ar. Past the mid season
Pro. At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & now Must by vs both be spent most preciously
Ar. Is there more toyle? Since y dost giue me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me
Pro. How now? moodie? What is't thou canst demand?
Ar. My Libertie
Pro. Before the time be out? no more:
Ar. I prethee, Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice, Told thee no lyes, made thee no mistakings, serv'd Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promise To bate me a full yeere
Pro. Do'st thou forget From what a torment I did free thee?
Pro. Thou do'st: & thinkst it much to tread y Ooze Of the salt deepe; To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North, To doe me businesse in the veines o'th' earth When it is bak'd with frost