Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
[Burden: Ding-dong.]
Hark! now I hear them--ding-dong, bell.

FERDINAND.
The ditty does remember my drown'd father.
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes:--I hear it now above me.

PROSPERO.
The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And say what thou seest yond.

MIRANDA.
What is't? a spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form:--but 'tis a spirit.

PROSPERO.
No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath such senses
As we have, such; this gallant which thou see'st
Was in the wrack; and but he's something stain'd
With grief,--that beauty's canker,--thou mightst call him
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows
And strays about to find 'em.