hour, if it so hap.

Cheerly, good hearts !-Out of our

[Exit.

way, say. Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow : methinks, he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good fate, to his hanging make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage. If he be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable. [Exeunt.

Re-enter Boatswain.

Boats. Down with the top-mast : yare ; lower, lower. Bring her to try with main-course. [A cry within.] A plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather, or our office.

Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO.

Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er, and drown? Have you a mind to sink?

Seb. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!

Boats. Work you, then.

Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent noisemaker, we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

Gon. I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched wench.

Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold. Set her two courses : off to sea again; lay her off.

Enter Mariners, wet.

Mar. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! [Ex. Boats. What ! must our mouths be cold ? [them. Gon. The king and prince at prayers! let us assist For our case is as theirs.

Seb. I am out of patience.

Ant. We are merely1 cheated of our lives by drunk

ards.

This wide-chapp'd rascal,-would, thou might'st lie

drowning,

The washing of ten tides !

Gon.

He'll be hanged 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 !—

1 Absolutely.

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.. [Exit.

SCENE II.-The Island: before the cell of PROSPERO. Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA.

Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, you 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 heat,1 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 swallow'd, and
The fraughting souls within her.

Pro.

Be collected:

No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart,
There's no harm done.

Mira.
Pro.

O, woe the day!

I have done nothing but in care of thee,

No harm.

(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 farther. Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magic garment from me.-So:

[Lays down his robe.3 Lie there my art.-Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd

1 cheek: in f. e. 2 creature in f. e. 3 mantle in f. e.

The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such prevision1 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 farther.

Mira.

You have often

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. Canst thou remember
A time before we came unto this cell?

[Sits down. I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not Out 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.

'Tis far off;

Mira.
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 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.

Mira.

But that I do not.

Pro. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, Thy father was the duke of Milan, and

A prince of power.

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, thou3 his only heir

And princess, no worse issued.

Mira.

O, the heavens !

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

1 provision: in f. e. 2 Not in f. e. 3 and: in f. e.

Pro.

Both, both, my girl :

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 teen' that I have turn'd you to,

Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.

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 rapt 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 t' advance, and whom

To trash' 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 i' the state
To what tune pleas'd 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.
Mira. O good sir! I do.

Pro. 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-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 loaded,3

Not only with what my revenue yielded,

But what my power might else exact,-like one,

1 Trouble. 2 A hunting term, signifying to beat back. See Othello, II., 1. 3 lorded: in f. e.

VOL. I.-2

Who having to untruth,' 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 th' outward face of royalty,

With all prerogative-hence his ambition
Growing-Dost thou 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 th' event; then tell me, If this might be a brother.

I should sin

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

Pro.

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 practise,2 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.

Mira.

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.

Pro.

Hear a little farther,

And then I'll bring thee to the present business

1 unto truth in f. e 2 purpose in f. e.