PROSPERO:
“I wish to touch the heat again,
to feel the flame, the power,
to sense on skin the joy of sin
to watch the passions flower.”

ARIEL:
“Come, old lover,take my hand.
I’ll lead you thru’ infernos.
(aside)
(It’s to the molten, flameing flow where he must go.)
But of these flames, dear, have no fear.
They are no cremators byre.
Tis’ in these fires, desire’s forged
and Pheonix cry’s disgorged.”

PROSPERO:
” Then lead, my love, my fairy friend.
I’ll follow on and on.
Until my wand
can conjure naught,
and I,
sans sorrow,
end.”

Exit.