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Dashes the fire out. O! I have suffered
With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,
Who had no doubt some noble, creature 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 ere
It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and
The fraughting souls within her.

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


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.


More to know

Did never meddle with my thoughts.
"T is 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

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 ordered, 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 farther.

You have often

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


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.


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?

Pros. Thou hadst, 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.


But that I do not.

Pros. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year


Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and

A prince of 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 his only heir

A princess; no worse issued.


O, the heavens !

What foul play had we, that we came from


Or blessed was't we did?


Both, both, my girl :

By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved


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

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 seigniories 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?


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

Mir. O, good sir, I do.


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, 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 the outward face of royalty, With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing

Dost thou hear?


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
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 !

Pros. Mark his condition, and the event; then

tell me

If this might be a brother.

I should sin

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

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.


Alack, for pity!

I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then,

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