The Tempest

by: William Shakespeare

Act I, scene ii (continued)

1
As wicked dew as e’er my mother brushed
With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen
Drop on you both! A southwest blow on ye
And blister you all o’er! (I.ii.)
2
When thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes
With words that made them known. (I.ii.)
3
I must obey. His [Prospero’s] art is of such power
It would control my dam’s god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him. (I.ii.)
4
My father’s of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech. (I.ii.)