PROSPERO.
Thou hast. Where was she born?
Speak; tell me.

ARIEL.
Sir, in Argier.

PROSPERO.
O! was she so? I must
Once in a month recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know'st,was banish'd: for one thing she did
They would not take her life. Is not this true?

ARIEL.
Ay, sir.

PROSPERO.
This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant:
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd, thou didst painfully remain