2. SCENE II. The Island. Before the cell of PROSPERO
Where should this music be? i' th' air or th' earth?
It sounds no more;--and sure it waits upon
Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wrack,
This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion,
With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,--
Or it hath drawn me rather,--but 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.
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:
Hark! now I hear them--ding-dong, bell.
The ditty does remember my drown'd father.
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes:--I hear it now above me.
The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And say what thou seest yond.
What is't? a spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form:--but 'tis a spirit.
No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath such senses
As we have, such; this gallant which thou see'st
Was in the wrack; and but he's something stain'd
With grief,--that beauty's canker,--thou mightst call him
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows
And strays about to find 'em.
I might call him
A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.
[Aside] It goes on, I see,
As my soul prompts it.--Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee
Within two days for this.
Most sure, the goddess
On whom these airs attend!--Vouchsafe, my prayer
May know if you remain upon this island;
And that you will some good instruction give
How I may bear me here: my prime request,
Which I do last pronounce, is,--O you wonder!--
If you be maid or no?