Use this token of mine art Less blindfold than the last.
[Caliban bounds away with the scroll.]
ARIEL [Half protesting.] Will trust him, Master?
PROSPERO Yea, though he fail me yet again, for only Trust can create its object.
CALIBAN [Joyfully kissing the scroll and raising it.] Now, now, Setebos, Thy son shall wean thy Powers from Death, thy priest!
[Descending the steps, Caliban hastens to the mouth of the cell, where—as he is about to enter—Death reappears and hails him.]
DEATH Welcome, Caliban!
[Death beckons within. Pausing momentarily, Caliban seems about to draw back, but recovering his purpose cries out hoarsely:]
CALIBAN Go on; I’ll follow thee.
[He follows within and disappears. Caliban and Death have hardly vanished, when Miranda comes from her shrine, followed by the Muses, who are accompanied by a troop of Fauns. The classic hides of these are partly concealed by gay mediæval garments [Florentine and French], and some bear in their hands great vellum books and parchments, which they stack in a pile near the shrine.]