Bats. Work you, then.

Art. Hang, cur, hang! you insolent noise-maker, we re less afraid to be drowned than thou art. ton. I'll warrant him from drowning; though th ship were no stronger than a nut-shell.

Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; set her two ourses; off to sea again, lay her off.

Enter Mariners wet.

Mar. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!
[Exeunt.

Boats. What, must our mouths be cold?
Gon. The king and prince at prayers! let us as-
sist them,

For our case is as their's.

Seb. I am out of patience.

Ant. We are merely3 cheated of our lives by drunkards.

This wide-chapped rascal; -'Would, thou might'st

lie drowning,

The washing of ten tides!

Gon.

He'll be hang'd yet; Though every drop of water swear against it, And gape at wid'st to glut him.

[A confused noise within.] Mercy on us!-We split, we split!-Farewell, my wife and children!. Farewell, brother!-We split, we split, we split ! Ant. Let's all sink with the king.

Seb. Let's take leave of him.

[Exit. [Exit.

Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground! long heath, brown furze, any thing: The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death.

3 Absolutely.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

The Island: before the Cell of PROSPERO.

Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA.

Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, yu 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 perish'd.
Had I been any god of power, I would

Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er

It should the good ship so have swallowed, and
The freighting souls within her.

Be collected;

Pro.
No more amazement: tell your piteous heart,
There's no harm done.

Mira.

Pro.

O, woe the day!

No harm.

I have done nothing but in care of thee,

(Of thee, my dear one! thee, my daughter!) who
Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing
Of whence I am; nor that I am more better
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
And thy no greater father.

Mira.

More to know

'Tis time

Did never meddle with my thoughts.

Pro.
I should inform thee further. 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

Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink.
Sit down;

For thou must now know further.

You have often

Mira.
Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd
And left me to a bootless inquisition;
Concluding, Stay, not yet.-

Pro.

The hour's now come;

The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;

Obey, and be attentive. Can'st thou remember
A time before we came unto this cell?

I do not think thou can'st; for then thou wast not
Out4 three years old.

Mira.

Certainly, sir, I can. Pro. By what? by any other house, or person? Of any thing the image tell me, that

Hath kept with thy remembrance.

Mira.

"Tis far off;

And rather like a dream than an assurance
That my remembrance warrants: Had I not
Four or five women once, that tended me?

Pro. Thou had'st, and more, Miranda: But how is it,

That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time?

If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here, How thou cam'st here, thou may'st.

Mira.

Pro. Twelve years since,

But that I do not.

Miranda, twelve years since, thy father was
The duke of Milan, and a prince of power.

4 Quite.

Mira. Sir, are not you my father?

Pro. 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.

O, the heavens !

Mira. What foul play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed was't we did?

Both, both, my girl:

Pro. By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence; But blessedly holp hither.

Mira.

O, my heart bleeds To think o' the teen5 that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance! Please you, further.

Pro. 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 wrapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle-
Dost thou attend me?

Mira.

Sir, most heedfully.

Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them; whom to advance, and whom To trash 6 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

To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was

5 Sorrow.

6 Cut away.

The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk,
And suck'd my verdure out o'nt.

Thou attend'st

O good sir, I do.

Pro. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate 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,― like one
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 the duke; out of the substitution
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative: - Hence his ambition
Growing, Dost hear?

Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Pro. To have no screen between this part he play'd,

And him he play'd it for, he needs will be
Absolute Milan: Me, poor man! - my library
Was dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties
He thinks me now incapable: confederates
(So dry he was for sway) with the king of Naples,
To give him annual tribute, do him homage;
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend
The dukedom, yet unbow'd (alas, poor Milan!)
To most ignoble stooping.

Mira.

O the heavens!

Pro. Mark his condition, and the event; then tell

me,

If this might be a brother.