Prosp. Why, that's my spirit!— But, was not this nigh shore?
Ariel. Close by, my master.
Prosp. But, Ariel, are they safe?
Ariel. Not a hair perished. In troops I have dispersed them round this isle: The duke's son I have landed by himself,
Whom I have left warming the air with sighs, In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting, His arms enfolded in this sad knot.
Prosp. Say how thou hast disposed the mariners Of the duke's ship, and all the rest o'the fleet?
Ariel. Safely in harbour Is the duke's ship; in the deep nook, where once Thou called'st me up, at midnight, to fetch dew From the still vexed Bermoothes, there she's hid; The mariners all under hatches stowed; Whom, with a charm, joined to their suffered labour, I have left asleep: And for the rest o'the fleet, Which I dispersed, they all have met again, And are upon the Mediterranean float, Bound sadly home for Italy; Supposing that they saw the duke's ship wrecked, And his great person perish.
Prosp. Ariel, thy charge Exactly is performed: But there's more work;— What is the time o'the day?
Ariel. Past the mid season.