1, not remembring how I cry'd out then, Pro. Hear a little further, And then I'll bring thee to the present business, Mira. Why did they not That hour deftroy us? Pro. Well demanded, wench; My tale provokes that queftion. Dear, they durft not (So dear the love my people bore me ;) fet A mark fo bloody on the bufinefs; but Mira. Alack! what trouble Was I then to you? Thou waft, that did preferve me: Thou didst fmile, Infused with a fortitude from heav'n, (When I have deck'd the fea with drops full-falt; Under my burthen groan'd;) which rais'd in me An undergoing ftomach, to bear up Against what fhould enfue. Mira. How came we a-fhore? Pro. By providence divine. Some food we had, and fome fresh water, that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity (being then appointed Mafter of this defign) did give us, with Rich garments, linnens, ftuffs, and neceffaries, Which fince have fteeded much. So of his gentleness, Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me From From my own library, with volumes that But ever fee that man! Sit ftill, and hear the last of our fea-forrow. Have I, thy fchool-mafter, made thee more profit now, (For ftill 'tis beating in my mind) your reafon For raifing this fea-ftorm? Pro. Know thus far forth; By accident moft ftrange, bountiful fortune I pray Will ever after droop. Here ceafe more queftions; Enter Ariel. Ari. All hail, great mafter! grave Sir, hail! I come To answer thy beft pleasure: Be't to fly; To fwim; to dive into the fire; to ride On the curl'd clouds: to thy ftrong bidding task. Pro. Haft thou, fpirit, Perform'd to point the tempeft that I bad thee? I boarded the King's fhip: now on the beak, The The yards, and bolt-fprit, would I flame diftinctly; Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precurfers Of dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And fight out-running were not; the fire and cracks Of fulphurous roaring the moft mighty Neptune Seem'd to befiege, and make his bold waves tremble; Yea, his dread trident fhake. Pro. My brave, brave fpirit! Who was fo firm, fo conftant, that this coyl Ari. Not a foul But felt a feaver of the mind, and plaid Pro. Why, that's my Spirit! On their fuftaining garments not a blemish, Pro. Of the King's fhip, The mariners, fay how thou haft difpos'd, Ari. Safely in harbour Is the King's fhip; in the deep nook, where once The (9) From the fill-vext Bermoothes] So this Word has hitherto been miftakenly written in all the Books. There are about 400 Iflands in North America, the principal of which was call'd Bermuda from a Spaniard of |