The Tempest: A Norton Critical Edition (Second Edition) (Norton Critical Editions)

by William Shakespeare

Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me From mine own library with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom.

Then all afire with me; the King’s son Ferdinand, With hair upstaring—then like reeds, not hair— Was the first man that leapt, cried, “Hell is empty, And all the devils are here!”

Then was this island— Save for the son that she did litter here, A freckled whelp, hag-born—not honored with A human shape.

Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself

Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me In this hard rock whiles you do keep from me The rest o’th’ island.

Filth as thou art, with humane care, and lodged thee In mine own cell till thou didst seek to violate The honor of my child.

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!

I’ll show thee every fertile inch o’th’ island, and I

will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god.

First to possess his books, for without them He’s but a sot as I am, nor hath not

One spirit to command—they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burn but his books.