ALONSO, King of Naples.

Stephano, a drunken Butler.

Prospero, the right Duke of Milan.

Milan.

Sebastian, his Brother.

Francisco,

Lords.

Caliban, a savage and deformed Slave. Trinculo, a Jester.

Other Spirits attending on Prospero. SCENE, an uninhabited Island,

Master of a Ship, Boatswain, Marmers. Miranda, Daughter to Prospero.

Iris,

Ceres,

Juno, Nymphs,

Spirits.

Reapers,

Miranda.

Sebastian.

A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!

Work you, then.

Boatswain.

Antonio.

O, woe the day! Prospero.

No harm. [who

I have done nothing but in care of thee,

noisemaker, we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

Gonzalo.

I'll warrant him from drowning; though the ship, were no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched wench

If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,

But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O! I have suffer'd
With those that I saw suffer a brave vessel,
Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her,
Dash'd all to pieces. O! the cry did knock
Against my very heart. Poor souls, they pe-
Had I been any god of power, I would [rish'd!
Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er
It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and
The fraughting souls within her.

Miranda. More to know Did never meddle with my thoughts.

Prospero.

'Tis time I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, And pluck my magic garment from me.- So: [Lays down his Mantle. Lie there my art.-Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.

The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely order'd, that there is no soul-
No, not so much perdition as an hair,
Betid to any creature in the vessel [Sit down;
Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sink.
For thou must now know farther.

Sir, are not you my father? Prospero.

Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said, thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was duke of Milan, and his only heir A princess no worse issued.

Miranda.

O! my heart bleeds To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther. Prospero.

My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Antonio,— I pray thee, mark me,- that a brother should Be so perfidious!-he whom, next thyself, Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put The manage of my state; as, at that time, Through all the signiories it was the first, (And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed In dignity; and for the liberal arts, Without a parallel, those being all my study ;) The government I cast upon my brother, And to my state grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncleDost thou attend me?

Miranda.

Sir, most heedfully.
Prospero.

Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them, whom t' advance, and whom
To trash for over-topping, new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd
them,

Or else new form'd them having both the key

Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state
To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was
The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk,
And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou at-
tend'st not.

I pray thee, mark me. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness, and the bettering of my mind With that, which but by being so retir'd O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother Awak'd an evil nature: and my trust, Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood, in its contrary as great As my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded, Not only with what my revenue yielded, But what my power might else exact, Who having, unto truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie,- he did believe He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution, And executing th' outward face of royalty, With all prerogative: - hence his ambition growing,

Dost thou hear?

Miranda.

like one,

Now the condition. This king of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Which was, that he in lieu o' the premises,Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan, With all the honours, on my brother: whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight, Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open The gates of Milan; and, i'the dead of darkness, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying self.

Miranda.

(So dear the love my people bore me) nor set
A mark so bloody on the business; but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,
Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepar'd
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.
Miranda.

O! a cherubim Thou wast, that did preserve me. Thou didst Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up

Against what should ensue.

Miranda.

How came we ashore? Prospero.

By Providence divine.

Naples,

Out of his charity, (who being then appointed

Master