Prosp. You shall have your desire.
Ariel. That's my noble master.—Milcha!
[Milcha flies down to his assistance.
Milc. I am here, my love.
Ariel. Thou art free! Welcome, my dear!— What shall we do? Say, say, what shall we do?
Prosp. Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible To every eye-ball else. Hence, with diligence; Anon thou shalt know more. [They both fly up, and cross in the air.
Thou hast slept well, my child.
[To Mir.
Mir. The sadness of your story put heaviness in me.
Prosp. Shake it off.—Come on, I'll now call Caliban, my slave, who never yields us a kind answer.
Mir. 'Tis a creature, sir, I do not love to look on.