Ari. Harke, they rore
Pro. Let them be hunted soundly: At this houre
Lies at my mercy all mine enemies:
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
Shalt haue the ayre at freedome: for a little
Follow, and doe me seruice.
Exeunt.
Actus quintus: Scoena Prima.
Enter Prospero (in his Magicke robes) and Ariel.
Pro. Now do's my Proiect gather to a head:
My charmes cracke not: my Spirits obey, and Time
Goes vpright with his carriage: how's the day?
Ar. On the sixt hower, at which time, my Lord
You said our worke should cease
Pro. I did say so,
When first I rais'd the Tempest: say my Spirit,
How fares the King, and's followers?
Ar. Confin'd together
In the same fashion, as you gaue in charge,
Iust as you left them; all prisoners Sir
In the Line-groue which weather-fends your Cell,
They cannot boudge till your release: The King,
His Brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning ouer them,
Brim full of sorrow, and dismay: but chiefly
Him that you term'd Sir, the good old Lord Gonzallo,
His teares runs downe his beard like winters drops
From eaues of reeds: your charm so strongly works 'em
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender
Pro. Dost thou thinke so, Spirit?