mute, Or else our spell is marr'd. You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the windring brooks, With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks, Leave your crisp channels and on this green land Answer your summons; Juno does command: Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate A contract of true love; be not too late. You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary, Come hither from the furrow and be merry: Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on And these fresh nymphs encounter every one In country footing. I had forgot that foul conspiracy Of the beast Caliban and his confederates Against my life: the minute of their plot Is almost come. Well done! avoid; no more! This is strange: your father's in some passion That works him strongly. Never till this day Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd. You do look, my son, in a moved sort, As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir. Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd; Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled: Be not disturb'd with my infirmity: If you be pleased, retire into my cell And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk, To still my beating mind. We wish your peace. Come with a thought I thank thee, Ariel: come. Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure? Spirit, We must prepare to meet with Caliban. Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres, I thought to have told thee of it, but I fear'd Lest I might anger thee. Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets? I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; So fun of valour that they smote the air For breathing in their faces; beat the ground For kissing of their feet; yet always bending Towards their project. Then I beat my tabour; At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears, Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns, Which entered their frail shins: at last I left