Mir.

Pros.

Mir.

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

125

The gates of Milan; and, i̇' the dead of dark

ness,

The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me and thy crying self.

Alack, for pity!

I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then,
Will cry it o'er again. It is a hint

That wrings mine eyes to't.

130

134

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.

Wherefore did they not

That hour destroy us?

Pros.

Well demanded, wench;

My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst

not

(So dear the love my people bore me) set

A mark so bloody on the business; but

140

Mir.

With colours fairer painted their foul ends.

In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,

Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared

Pros.

Mir.

A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigg'd,

Nor tackle, sail, nor mast;

Instinctively have quit it.

the very rats

145

There they hoist us,

To cry to the sea that roar'd to us, to sigh

To the winds whose pity, sighing back again, 150
Did us but loving wrong.

Was I then to you!

Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst

smile,

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.

Pros. By Providence divine.

155

How came we ashore?

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

160

Mir.

Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,
Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentle-

ness,

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me
From mine own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.

165

Would I might

But ever see that man!

Pros.

Now I arise.

[Puts on his robe.]

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 170
Here in this island we arriv'd; and here

Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princess can that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

Mir. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir,

Pros.

For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason
For raising this sea-storm?

175

Know thus far forth.
By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies

Brought to this shore; and by my prescience 180
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 ques

Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dulness, 185
And give it way. I know thou canst not choose.
[Miranda sleeps.]
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,

Pros.

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

190

On the curl'd clouds. To thy strong bidding

task

Ariel and all his quality.

Hast thou, spirit,

Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade

thee?

Ari. To every article.

195

I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd amazement. Sometime I'd divide,
And burn in many places. On the topmast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame dis-
tinctly,

200

Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the pre

cursors

O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and

cracks

Pros.

Ari.

Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves

tremble,

Yea, his dread trident shake.

205

My brave spirit!

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

Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd

Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners 210
Plung'd in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,
Then all afire with me. The King's son, Ferdi-

nand,

With hair up-staring,

hair,

then like reeds, not

Was the first man that leap'd; cried, "Hell is

Close by, my master.

Not a hair perish'd;

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

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before; and, as thou bad'st me,
In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the

isle.

The King's son have I landed by himself,

C

220