ACT III
[At the conclusion now of the English Interlude, out of the shadow a roseate glow suffuses the cell of Caliban, from which the green-clad Spirits of Ariel come running forth, bringing in their midst Miranda. Leading her in daisy chains, they mount with her the steps toward Prospero, singing in glad chorus:]
THE SPIRITS OF ARIEL “Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year’s pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
“The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
“The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, In every street these tunes our ears do greet: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! Spring! the sweet Spring!”
PROSPERO [Greeting her.] Welcome, most dear!
MIRANDA Once more you bring me home, And the gray world wears green!
THE VOICE OF CALIBAN [Calling, beneath.] Ho, Spring-i’-the-air!
MIRANDA Hark!
[From his cell, bare-headed, with gray cloak unbound and flapping behind, Caliban bursts forth and hastens toward them.]
CALIBAN Spring-i’-the-air! Ah, leave me not alone! Take me forth with thee, too! Not Death can hold me When thou goest forth from him.
MIRANDA It was thyself That led’st me unto him.
CALIBAN With thee—with thee Would I lie even with Death. But when thou leavest, Thy life-song prickleth his sod, and maketh my sap To leap, and lick the sun again. [Kneeling before her.] O, whither Thou goest, let Caliban go, and wear thy cloth Whatso its colors be!
PROSPERO [Darkly.] Keep from her, slave! Touch not her hem. Her Muses garbed thee once Gay in her colors. Thou soiled’st them with shame. Next time thou worest drab, and lured’st thy Mistress Deathward in gray. Now—now thou darest crave Once more to wear her cloth?
CALIBAN Yea, do I! See: This cloak—so I forswear it!
[He puts off the gray cloak, tears it, and tramples upon it; then turns to Miranda.]
Give me now Thy green to wear!
PROSPERO Insolence infinite! Ariel, my staff!
MIRANDA Stay!—What to do?
PROSPERO [About to raise the staff.] To teach This unwhipt hound—to howl.
CALIBAN [Starting back.] Great Master!
MIRANDA Grace, Dear Father! Patience needs no quick compulsion. Thine art is wondrous patient, and this poor Slow climber needs thine art.
PROSPERO Why, once again Thou art my wiser self. [To Caliban.] Go, lick her hand, And feed from it.
CALIBAN [Laying his cheek on Miranda’s hand weeps, with great sobs.] Spring—Spring-i’-the-air, thy dew Dabbleth my face. O wonder, what art thou That fillest so mine eyes with rain-shine?
MIRANDA April, Not I, can conjure spring i’ the air, and April Plies rarest art in England.—Ariel, Fetch us, from out my father’s dreamery, Nature’s spring-charm and echo of English song! [To the Spirits of Ariel.] Our greenwood cloth! Come, busk him, merry men all: Aye, both of us!
CALIBAN [Rapturously.] This time I will not fail thee.
MIRANDA [To Prospero, indicating Caliban.] Have faith in this fellow-creature, and let these spirits Clothe him anew.
PROSPERO As you like it, dear, be it so!
[The Spirits clothe Caliban and Miranda in green, while from within the Cloudy Curtains an unseen chorus sings:]
THE CHORUS “Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird’s throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.”
ARIEL Spirits within, ho! [The Spirits run through the curtains, at centre, and disappear within.] Prosper’s hood Broods now a dream of Arden wood, Where young Orlando, daring fight For succor of old Adam’s plight, Defies the greenwood company— But meets there with no enemy.
CALIBAN [By the throne with Miranda and Prospero, murmurs aloud:] No enemy! [As Ariel raises his staff, the Cloudy Curtains part, disclosing