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William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Tempest.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.



Now my charms are all o’erthrown,And what strength I have’s mine own,Which is most faint. Now, ’tis true,I must be here confin’d by you,Or sent to Naples. Let me not,Since I have my dukedom gotAnd pardon’d the deceiver, dwellIn this bare island by your spell;But release me from my bandsWith the help of your good hands.Gentle breath of yours my sailsMust fill, or else my project fails,Which was to please. Now I wantSpirits to enforce, art to enchant,And my ending is despair,Unless I be reliev’d by prayer,Which pierces so that it assaultsMercy itself and frees all faults.As you from crimes would pardon’d be,Let your indulgence set me free.Exit.