Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
The fresh-brook mussels, wither'd roots, and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

FERDINAND.
No;
I will resist such entertainment till
Mine enemy has more power.

[He draws, and is charmed from moving.]

MIRANDA.
O dear father!
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful.

PROSPERO.
What! I say,
My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience
Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward,
For I can here disarm thee with this stick
And make thy weapon drop.

MIRANDA.
Beseech you, father!

PROSPERO.
Hence! Hang not on my garments.