“Hey, Mountain, hey!”
“Silver! There it goes, Silver!”
“Fury, Fury! There, Tyrant, there! Hark, hark!”
When Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo had been driven away, Prospero spoke to Ariel.
“Let them be hunted soundly. Now all my enemies lie at my mercy. My labours will soon be ended, and then thou shalt be free as air. Follow me still for a little, and do me service. Now, tell me, how fares the King and his followers?”
“Just as you left them—all prisoners, sir, in the grove of trees which shelters your cell. They cannot stir until you release them. The King, his brother, and your brother are quite distracted, and their lords are mourning over them, and chiefly he whom you termed ‘the good old lord Gonzalo.’ Your charm affects them so strongly that if you beheld them now you would pity them.”
“Dost thou think so, spirit?”
“I would, sir, if I were human.”
“And I will,” said Prospero. “Now that they are penitent my purpose is accomplished. Go, release them, Ariel. I’ll break my charms. I’ll restore their senses, and they shall be themselves.”
“I’ll fetch them, sir,” said Ariel; and he gladly hastened away to do his master’s bidding.