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Section 535
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Ar.
You are three men of sinne, whom destiny
That hath to instrument this lower world,
And what is in't: the neuer surfeited Sea,
Hath caus'd to belch vp you: and on this Island,
Where man doth not inhabit, you 'mongst men,
Being most vnfit to liue: I haue made you mad;
And euen with such like valour, men hang, and drowne
Their proper selues: you fooles, I and my fellowes
Are ministers of Fate, the Elements
Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well
Wound the loud windes, or with bemockt‑at‑Stabs
Kill the still closing waters, as diminish
One dowle that's in my plumbe: My fellow ministers
Are like‑invulnerable: if you could hurt,
Your swords are now too massie for your strengths,