Come with a thought. I thank thee

Prospero
Come with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel. Come.
Ariel
Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?
Prospero
Spirit,
We must prepare to meet with Caliban.

A devil, a born devil, on whose nature
Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost

Ariel
Ay, my commander. When I presented Ceres,
I thought to have told thee of it, but I feared
Lest I might anger thee.
Prospero
Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?
Ariel
I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking,
So full of valor that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces, beat the ground
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor,
At which, like unbacked colts, they pricked their ears,
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses
As they smelt music. So I charmed their ears
That, calf-like, they my lowing followed through
Toothed briers, sharp furzes, pricking gorse, and thorns,
Which entered their frail shins. At last I left them
I’ th’ filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,
There dancing up to th’ chins, that the foul lake
O’erstunk their feet.
Prospero
This was well done, my bird.
Thy shape invisible retain thou still.
The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither
For stale to catch these thieves.
Ariel
I go, I go.
 He exits.
Prospero
A devil, a born devil, on whose nature
Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;
And as with age his body uglier grows,
So his mind cankers. I will plague them all
Even to roaring.
 Enter Ariel, loaden with glistering apparel, etc.
Come, hang them on this line.