This powerful speech then of defiance accuses Prospero of breaking an initial trust of friendship between them and illegitimate assumption of political control made possible by abuse of the power of magic. Caliban's claims to original sovereignty,

"This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother
Which thou tak'st from me" (I.2.333-4)

Are met with a point blank refusal, "Thou most lying slave", from Prospero and counter- accusation of attempted rape (signifying sexual transgression and excess passion) of his daughter. The magician offers this as justification for the arbitrary rule he exercises over the island and its inhabitants. Here, then, we are presented with Prospero's own act of usurpation as Barker and Hulme point out in "Discursive Contexts of The Tempest" (Alternative Shakespeares, ed. John Drakakis p.191-205). This argument then opens up post-colonial readings of the text as relations on the island serve as an allegory of master- slave relations of colonial and imperialist empire. Ania Loomba in "Seizing the Book" sees texts like The Tempest as complicit in the colonising process (Gender,Race, Renaissance Drama, p.142-58).

We can see in Prospero's enslavement and subjection of Caliban the repression of 'Otherness': that which is exotic, bestial and unfamiliar. Therefore in the restraint of Caliban we are presented with a model of stifling of cultures, effectively a model of colonialism's erasure of customs and native cultures. However, to say that, in writing The Tempest, Shakespeare was 'complicit' in the colonising process is to imply that he is uncritical of Prospero's attitude towards Caliban. This is not true, and Prospero is something of a figure of fun for Shakespeare throughout the play. His point elsewhere (Twelfth Night, King Lear etc.) is that the servant is wiser than the master, so we should be cautious in our acceptance of Loomba's theory.

It is in this scene that Ferdinand, King Alonso's son, who has been separated from the rest of the ship's crew is lured by Ariel's song to Prospero's cave. There, he meets Miranda and her father, and in keeping with conventions of pastoral, idyllic, romantic tradition they fall in love immediately. This of course adheres to Prospero's transcendent design for the resolution of all problems, moral and practical: he will marry his daughter to the son of the King of Naples, undoing and outdoing Antonio's treachery. It is both bountiful in consequence but also executes suitable revenge on Antonio. However, he will not give up his daughter that easily and decides to test Ferdinand by imprisoning him and enforcing manual labour upon him, and like Caliban he is forced into "wooden slavery" as Ferdinand punningly calls it. Where Caliban curses at his tasks Ferdinand nobly bears his burden hoping for plentiful compensation in sights of his beloved Miranda:

"this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid"

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