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- ACT ONE THE TEMPEST SCENE TWO
Prospero. What! I say,
My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who makest a show, but darest not strike, thy conscience
Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward;
For I can here disarm thee with this stick
And make thy weapon drop.
Miranda. Beseech you, father.
Prospero. Hence ! hang not on my garments.
Miranda. Sir, have pity;
I'll be his surety.
Prospero. Silence! one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What !
An advocate for an impostor ! hush !
Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban : foolish wench !
To the most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels.
Miranda. My affections
Are, then, most humble ; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.
Prospero. Come on ; obey :
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.
Ferdinand. So they are:
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel.
The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid: all corners else o' th' earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.
Prospero. [Aside] It works. [To Ferdinand,] Come
on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To Ferdinand.] Follow
me.
[To Ariel.] Hark what thou else shalt do me.
Miranda. Be of comfort ;
My father 's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech : this is unwonted
Which now came from him.
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