Under the hatches; the master, and the boat

swain,

Being awake, enforce them to this place,

And presently, I pr'ythee.

Ari. I drink the air before me, and return

Or e'er your pulse twice beat.

[Exit ARIEL

Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, and amaze

ment

Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us
Out of this fearful country!-

Pro.

Behold, Sir King,

The wrongéd Duke of Milan, Prospero.

For more assurance that a living prince

Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;
And to thee, and thy company, I bid

A hearty welcome.

Alon.

Whe'r thou beest he or no

Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,

As late I have been, I not know thy pulse

Beats as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,
The affliction of my mind amends, with which,
I fear, a madness held me. This must crave
(An if this be at all) a most strange story.

Thy dukedom I resign; and do entreat

Thou pardon me my wrongs.-But how should Prospero

Be living, and be here ?—

Pro.

First, noble friend,

Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot

Be measured, or confined.

Gon.

Or be not, I'll not swear.

Whether this be,

You do yet taste

Pro. Some subtleties o' the isle, that will not let you Believe things certain.-Welcome, my friends all.

[Aside to SEB. and ANT.] But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded,

I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you, And justify you traitors: at this time

I will tell no tales.

Seb. [Aside.]

Pro.

The devil speaks in him.

No.

For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother
Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive
Thy rankest fault; all of them; and require
My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,
Thou must restore.—

Alon.

If thou beest Prospero, Give us particulars of thy preservation :

How thou hast met us here, who three hours since Were wrecked upon this shore; where I have lost

(How sharp the point of this remembrance is!)

My dear son Ferdinand.

Pro.

I am woe for 't, sir.

Alon. Irreparable is the loss, and patience Says it is past her cure.

Pro.

I rather think,

You have not sought her help; of whose soft

grace

For the like loss I have her sovereign aid,

And rest myself content.

Alon.

You the like loss?

Pro. As great to me, as late; and, súpportable To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker Than you may call to comfort you, for I

Have lost my daughter.

Alon.

A daughter?

O heavens! that they were living both in Naples, The king and queen there! That they were, I

wish

Myself were mudded in that

oozy bed

Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?

Pro. In this last Tempest. I perceive, these lords

At this encounter do so much admire,

That they devour their reason, and scarce think

Their eyes do offices of truth, their words
Are natural breath: but, howsoe'er you have
Been justled from your senses, know for certain,
That I am Prospero, and that very duke

Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely

Upon this shore, where you were wrecked, was landed,

To be the lord on 't. No more yet of this;
For 't is a chronicle of day by day,

Not a relation for a breakfast, nor

Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, Sir;
This cell's my court: here have I few attendants,
And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in.
My dukedom since you have given me again,
I will requite you with as good a thing;
At least, bring forth a wonder, to content ye
As much as me my dukedom. -

The entrance of the cell opens, and discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chess.

Mira. Sweet lord, you play me false.

Fer.

I would not for the world.

No, my dearest love,

Mira. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should

wrangle,

And I would call it fair play.—

A lon.

If this prove

A vision of the island, one dear son

Shall I twice lose.

Of a glad father compass thee about!
Arise, and say how thou cam'st here.

Mira.

O wonder How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in 't!

Pro.

'Tis new to thee..

Alon. What is this maid, with whom thou wast

at play?

Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours: Is she the goddess that hath severed us,

And brought us thus together?

Sir, she is mortal;

Fer.
But, by immortal Providence, she's mine:
I chose her when I could not ask my father
For his advice, nor thought I had one. She