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Col. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse.

Mira. If, by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.

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Ste. Come on your ways! open your mouth: here is that which will give language to you, cat; open your mouth.

Act II. Scene II.

Fer.

- My sweet mistress

Weeps, when she sees me work, and says, such baseness Had ne'er like éxecutor.

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Pro. Hey! Mountain! hey!
Ari. Silver! there it goes! Silver !

Pro. Fury! Fury! there, Tyrant! there! hark,

hark!

Pros. I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth: And, deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book.

Act IV. Scene 1.

Act V. Scene I.

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