he had howled away twelve
winters. The spirit asked pardon, and declared his readiness to obey
Prospero's commands. Prospero promised that if he did so, he would
discharge him in two days. "Go," said Prospero, "make thyself like to
the nymph o' the sea; be subject to no sight but mine; invisible to
every eye-ball else. Go take this shape, and hither come in't: hence
with diligence." Miranda having been awakened, was invited by Prospero
to visit his slave Caliban, son of Sycorax, then dead. Ariel here came
before his master, who was pleased with his appearance.

On Prospero calling to Caliban, "Thou poisonous slave, got by the
Devil himself," to come forth, Caliban appeared and said, "As wicked
dew as e'er my mother brush'd with raven's feather from unwholesome
fen, drop on you both!" For this, replied Prospero, thou shalt be
tortured this night.

Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, and Francisco escaped to
an island, which to them seemed to be a desert. Caliban found them;
and a conspiracy was entered into to kill Prospero and secure the
person of Miranda. Solemn and strange music was heard, and several
strange shapes appeared at a banquet. Thunder rolled, and lightning
flashed: Ariel, in the form of a harpy, clapped his wings upon the
table, and the banquet vanished. Prospero gave Ferdinand a rich
compensation to make amends for past austere punishments; and that
compensation was nothing less than the hand of Miranda. He recommended
them to be prudent before their nuptials, and told them that if they
disregarded his injunctions in this respect, they would have hate and
discord between them. Ariel, by an unseen power, induced Caliban and
others whom Prospero desired to have in his cell, to repair thither;
but before reaching it they were hunted by divers spirits in the shape
of hounds, that chased them to the lime groves, where they were
secured as prisoners.

Prospero, addressing the elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and
groves, those that on the sands with printless foot chased the ebbing
Neptune, the demi-puppets that by moonshine made the sour-green
ringlets which ewes would not bite, those whose pastime was to make
midnight mushrooms, reminded them that he had, among other mighty
deeds, by their aid, rifted. Jove's stout oak, plucked up the pine and
cedar, and roused sleepers in the grave. But this rough magic, he
informed them, he would abjure, after working his airy charms. This
being done, he