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I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.
Knowing I lov’d my books, he furnish’d me, From mine own library with volumes that 195 I prize above my dukedom.
This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou takest from me.
You taught me language; and my profit on’t Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language!
The wreck of all my friends, nor this man’s threats, To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid: all corners else o’ th’ earth Let liberty make use of; space enough 585 Have I in such a prison.
The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Or, as ’twere perfumed by a fen.
I am a fool To weep at what I am glad of.
Be not afeard: the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.
All three of them are desperate: their great guilt, Like poison given to work a great time after, Now ’gins to bite the spirits.
We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
A devil, a born devil, on whose nature Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains, Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost; And as with age his body uglier grows, 210 So his mind cankers. I will plague them all, Even to roaring.
The devil speaks in him.
Though the seas threaten, they are merciful: 200 I have cursed them without cause.
O, wonder! 205 How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world That has such people in’t!
As you from crimes would pardon’d be, 20 Let your indulgence set me free.