Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear.
_Ari._ My lord, it shall be done. [_Exit._
_Pros._ Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! 320
_Cal._ 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!
_Pros._ For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, 325 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.
_Cal._ I must eat my dinner. 330 This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first, Thou strokedst me, and madest much of me; wouldst give me Water with berries in’t; and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, 335 That burn by day and night: and then I loved 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! 340 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.
_Pros._ Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee, 345 Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodged thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child.
_Cal._ O ho, O ho! would ’t had been done! Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else 350 This isle with Calibans.
_Pros._ 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, 355 Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow’d thy purposes With words that made them known. But thy vile race, Though thou didst learn, had that in’t which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou 360 Deservedly confined into this rock, Who hadst deserved more than a prison.
_Cal._ 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!