Now does my project gather to a head

Enter Prospero in his magic robes, and Ariel.

Prospero
Now does my project gather to a head.
My charms crack not, my spirits obey, and time
Goes upright with his carriage.—How’s the day?
Ariel 
On the sixth hour, at which time, my lord,
You said our work should cease.

Yet with my nobler reason ’gainst my fury
Do I take part. The rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance.

Prospero
I did say so
When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,
How fares the King and ’s followers?
Ariel
Confined together
In the same fashion as you gave in charge,
Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,
In the line grove which weather-fends your cell.
They cannot budge till your release. The King,
His brother, and yours abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly
Him that you termed, sir, the good old Lord Gonzalo.
His tears runs down his beard like winter’s drops
From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works ’em
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.
Prospero
Dost thou think so, spirit?
Ariel
Mine would, sir, were I human.
Prospero
And mine shall.
Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply
Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art?
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th’ quick,
Yet with my nobler reason ’gainst my fury
Do I take part. The rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance. They being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frown further. Go, release them, Ariel.
My charms I’ll break, their senses I’ll restore,
And they shall be themselves.
Ariel
I’ll fetch them, sir.
 He exits.