Then meet and join: Jove's lightning, the precursors
O' th' dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not: the fire and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,
Yea, his dread trident shake.

PROSPERO.
My brave spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
Would not infect his reason?

ARIEL.
Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners
Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,
Then all afire with me: the King's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring--then like reeds, not hair--
Was the first man that leapt; cried 'Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.'

PROSPERO.
Why, that's my spirit!
But was not this nigh shore?

ARIEL.
Close by, my master.

PROSPERO.