Page 1111 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works ’em,
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.

PROSPERO
Dost thou think so, spirit?

ARIEL
Mine would, sir, were I human.

PROSPERO
And mine shall. [20]

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply

Passions as they, be kindlier mov’d than thou art?
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th’ quick, [25]
Yet with nobler reason ’gainst my fury
Do I take part: the rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent,

The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frown further. Go, release them, Ariel: [30]
My charms I’ll break, their senses I’ll restore,

And they shall be themselves.

ARIEL

I’ll fetch them, sir.
Exit.

PROSPERO
Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;
And ye that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him [35]

When he comes back; you demi-puppets that
By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime

Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice