Betid to any creature in the vessel

Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down; For thou must now know farther.

You have often

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

Pros.

The hour's now come;

The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;

Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember
A time before we came unto this cell?

I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not
Out three years old.

Mir.

Certainly, sir, I can.

Pros. By what? by any other house or person? Of any thing the image tell me that

Hath kept with thy remembrance.

Mir.
'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?

But how is it

Pros. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda.
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 camest here,
How thou camest here thou mayst.

Mir.
But that I do not.
Pros. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
Thy father was the Duke of Milan and

A prince of

Mir.

f

power.

Sir, are not you my father? Pros. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir

And princess no worse issued.

O the heavens!

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

Pros.
Both, both, my girl :
By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence,
But blessedly holp hither.

Mir.

O, my heart bleeds To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to,

Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.

Pros. My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio

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I pray thee, mark me-that a brother should
Be so perfidious !-he whom next thyself
Of all the world I loved and to him put
The manage of my state; as at that time
Through all the signories 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 uncle-
Dost thou attend me?

Mir.

Sir, most heedfully.

Pros. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, who to advance and who

To trash for over-topping, new created

The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,
Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key

Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state

To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was
The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,

And suck'd my verdure out on 't. Thou attend'st not.
Mir. O, good sir, I do.

Pros.

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 retired;
O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother
Awaked 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 into 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 the outward face of royalty,

With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing-
Dost thou hear?

Mir.

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Pros. To have no screen between this part he play'd And him he play'd it for, he needs will be

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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-wi' 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.
O the heavens !

Mir.

Pros. Mark his condition and the event; then tell me If this might be a brother.

I should sin

Mir.
To think but nobly of my grandmother:
Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Pros.

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.

Mir.

Alack, for pity!

I, not remembering how I cried out then,
Will
cry it o'er again: it is a hint

That wrings mine eyes to 't.

Pros.

Hear a little further

And then I'll bring thee to the present business
Which now's upon's; without the which this story
Were most impertinent.

Mir.

That hour destroy us?

Pros.

Wherefore did they not

Well demanded, wench:

So dear the love my people bore me, nor set

A mark so bloody on the business, but

My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,

With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,

Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared
A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigg'd,

Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively have 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.

Mir.

Was I then to you!

Pros.

Alack, what trouble

O, a cherubin

Thou didst smile,

Thou wast that did preserve me.

Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,
Under my burthen groan'd; which raised in me
An undergoing stomach, to bear up

Against what should ensue.

Mir.

How came we ashore?

Pros. By Providence divine.

Some food we had and some fresh water that
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,

Out of his charity, who being then appointed
Master of this design, did give us, with

Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,

Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,
Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me

From mine own library with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom.

Mir.

But ever see that man!

Pros.

Would I might

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Now I arise: [Resumes his mantle.

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this island we arrived; and here

Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princesses can that have more time

For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.

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Mir. Heavens thank you for 't! And now, I pray you, sir, For still 't is beating in my mind, your reason

For raising this sea-storm?

Pros.
By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,

Know thus far forth.

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Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies

Brought to this shore; and by my prescience

I find my zenith doth depend upon

A most auspicious star, whose influence

If now I court not but omit, my fortunes

Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions:
Thou art inclined to sleep: 't is a good dulness,

[Miranda sleeps.

And give it way: I know thou canst not choose.

Come away, servant, come. I am ready now.
Approach, my Ariel, come.

Enter ARIEL.

Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

On the curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task
Ariel and all his quality.

Hast thou, spirit,

Pros.
Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Ari. To every article.

I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flamed amazement: sometime I'ld divide,
And burn in many places; on the topmast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,
Yea, his dread trident shake.
My brave spirit!

Pros.

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
Would not infect his reason?

Ari.

Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad and play'd
Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners
Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,
Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring, then like reeds, not hair,—
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, "Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here'.

Pros.

But was not this nigh shore?
Ari.

Why, that's my spirit!

Close by, my master.

Pros. But are they, Ariel, safe?
Ari.

Not a hair perish'd;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,
In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle.
The king's son have I landed by himself;

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