Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes and
Now does my project gather to a head.
My charms crack not, my spirits obey, and time
Goes upright with his carriage. How’s the day?
On the sixth hour, at which time, my lord,
5You said our work should cease.
When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,
How fares the king and ’s followers?
In the same fashion as you gave in charge,
Just as you left them, all prisoners, sir,
10In the line grove which weather-fends your cell.
They cannot budge till your release. The king,
His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brimful of sorrow and dismay. But chiefly
15Him that you termed, sir, “the good old Lord
His tears run down his beard like winter’s drops
From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.
Dost thou think
20Mine would, sir, were I human.