Prosp. And so it shall; And thou shalt have the open air at freedom.
Ariel. Thanks, my great lord.
Prosp. But tell me first, my spirit, How fares the duke, my brother, and their followers?
Ariel. Confined together, as you gave me order, In the lime-grove, which weather-fends your cell; Within that circuit up and down they wander, But cannot stir one step beyond their compass.
Prosp. How do they bear their sorrows?
Ariel. The two dukes appear like men distracted, their Attendants, brim-full of sorrow, mourning over them; But chiefly he, you termed the good Gonzalo: His tears run down his beard, like winter drops From eaves of reeds; your vision did so work them, That, if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender.
Prosp. Dost thou think so, spirit?
Ariel. Mine would, sir, were I human.
Prosp. And mine shall: Hast thou, who art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not I (a man Like them, one, who as sharply relish passions As they) be kindlier moved than thou art? Though they have pierced me to the quick with injuries, Yet with my nobler reason, 'gainst my fury, I will take part; the rarer action is In virtue, than in vengeance. Go, my Ariel, Refresh with needful food their famished bodies, With shows and chearful musick comfort them.
Ariel. Presently, master?