The Tempest (Dover Thrift Editions: Plays)

Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of.

The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, And time to speak it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster.

None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more; use your authority: if you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap.

MIR. I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.

CAL. 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!

They are both in either’s powers: but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light.

what a sleep were this For your advancement!

FER. Sir, she is mortal; But by immortal Providence she ’s mine:

PROS. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature Nurture can never stick;