Page:Tempest (1918) Yale.djvu/82

The Tempest, V. i

His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops

From eaves of reeds; your charm so strongly works them,

That if you now beheld them, your affections

Would become tender.

Pro. Dost thou think so, spirit?

Ari. Mine would, sir, were I human.

Pro. And mine shall.

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,

Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art?

Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,

Yet with my 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.

My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore,

And they shall be themselves.

Ari. I'll fetch them, sir.

Pro. 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

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

To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,—

Weak masters though ye be—I have bedimm'd

 17 eaves of reeds: a thatched roof

23 all: quite

24 Passion: suffer

27 rarer: nobler

37 ringlets: circles of grass

39, 40 rejoice curfew; cf. n.

