FERDINAND                           No, as I am a man.

MIRANDA      There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.

If the ill spirit have so fair a house,

Good things will strive to dwell with’t.

PROSPERO                             [to Ferdinand] Follow me.—

Speak not you for him; he’s a traitor.—Come,

I’ll manacle thy neck and feet together;

Sea water shall be thy drink; thy food shall be

The fresh-brook mussels, withered roots, and husks

Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow!

FERDINAND                                                               No,

I will resist such entertainment till

Mine enemy has more power.

He draws and is charmed from moving. (1.2.457-467)

Ferdinand is shocked and also indignant at this accusation – which is pretty mad – it’s an insult to him, accusing him of lying about who he is and his situation. His honour is being called into question: No, as I am a man! (and a gentleman, is implicit). And Miranda’s having none of it: but he’s so good looking, how can he not be virtuous and honest? Even if his spirit were disposed to ill, his natural beauty would incline him to be good. (It’s a familiar Platonic argument, the relationship between beauty, goodness, and truth; here, though, it’s mostly a sign of Miranda’s infatuation, although also an indication that she knows her Plato; Prospero has taught her well.) But Prospero is determined to take charge and show both Ferdinand and his daughter who’s really boss. Fighting talk, now accusing Ferdinand not simply of being a liar but a traitor, and threatening him with violence and hardship. Is this how he has treated Caliban? chaining him in a stress position, a form of torture, and making him eat low-grade shellfish – fresh-water mussels are inedible, apparently – and old roots, and the husks of acorns. Caliban has already protested that he showed Prospero the fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and fertile; he will later offer to show Trinculo and Stephano the best springs, I’ll pluck thee berries … dig thee pignuts … bring thee to clust’ring filberts … get thee fresh scamels from the rock. The island is apparently a fertile, bountiful place, so Prospero is being particularly and perversely cruel in his threat to starve Ferdinand. (Acorns were sometimes regarded as a foodstuff, and could be ground into flour, but they were more commonly thought of as food for pigs, and certainly not their husks.) I’m not standing for that, says Ferdinand, unsurprisingly – I will resist such entertainment, such treatment, until I’m being told what to do by more than a man, in late middle age, of scholarly appearance, on his own, and unarmed; you and whose army? Ferdinand might as well add. So he draws – a rapier, probably, as a fashionable young man, although it could be a knife or dagger, for a scrappier and less gallant combat. But Prospero has unseen powers and weapons, not least Ariel, and so Ferdinand is charmed from moving, frozen, like a game of statues.