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Miran.

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.

Miran.

O, the heavens!

What foul play had we, that we came from thence?

Or blessed was't we did?

Pros.

Both, both, my girl;

O, my heart bleeds

By foul play, as thou say'st, we were heaved thence;
But blessedly holp hither.

Miran.

To think o' the teen1 that I have turned you to,

Which is from my remembrance! Please you, further.

I

Pros. My brother, and thy uncle, called Antonio,

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 seignories it was the first,
And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed
In dignity, and, for the liberal arts,

Without a parallel: these 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?

Miran.

Sir, most heedfully.

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

To trash for overtopping2; new created

The creatures that were mine; I say, or changed them,
Or else new-formed them; having both the key

Of officer and office, set all hearts in the state
To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was
The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,

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And sucked my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not.
Miran. O good sir, I do.

Pros.

I pray thee, mark me. I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated

1 Sorrow, trouble.

2 To check when too ambitious: trash is a technical term of hunting,

applied to a rein which holds in a dog, that overtops, i. e. outstrips, the other dogs in his speed.

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 revénue 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 lie1,-he did believe

He was indeed the duke, out of the substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,

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

Miran.

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Pros. To have no screen between this part he played, And him he played 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 2, and bend

The dukedom, yet unbowed, (alas, poor Milan!)
To most ignoble stooping.

Miran.

O the heavens!

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

This king of Naples, being an enemy

To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
Which was, that he, in lieu of3 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

1 By telling a lie, he made his memory such a sinner unto truth, as to credit his own lie: that is, by so indulging in the falsehood, he at

length forgot that it was false, and believed it to be true.

2 Ducal coronet, to a regal crown. 3 In exchange for.

Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open

The gates of Milan; and in the dead of darkness,
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me, and thy crying2 self.

Miran.

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 it.

Pros.

Hear a little further,

And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon us; without the which, this story

Were most impertinent.

Miran.

That hour destroy us?

Pros.

Wherefore did they not

Well demanded, wench;

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

(So dear the love my people bore me) nor set

A mark so bloody on the business; but

With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few 3, they hurried us aboard a bark;

Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared
A rotten carcase of a boat, not rigged,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roared to us; to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.

Miran.

Was I then to you?

Pros.

Alack! what trouble

O! a cherubim

Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst smile,

Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

When I have decked the sea with drops full salt.

Miran.

Pros. By Providence divine,

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

1 Determined upon.

2 Observe the graphic effect produced by this one word in the pasthy crying self.

sage,

3 In a few words; in short. 4 Sprinkled.

Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,

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

From mine own library, with volumes that

I prize above

my dukedom.

Miran.

'Would I might

Pros.

Now I arise:

But ever see that man!

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 princes can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.
Miran. Heavens thank you for't!

you, sir,

And now, I pray

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

Pros.

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
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; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way;-I know thou can'st 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 it to fly,

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

On the curled clouds; to thy strong bidding, task
Ariel, and all his quality."

Pros.

Hast thou, spirit,

Performed to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Ari. To every article.

I boarded the king's ship: now on the beak,

1 Propitious mistress.

2 Power, nature.

Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flamed amazement: Sometimes, I'd 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
Of the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were nol: 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.

Pros.

My brave spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil1
Would not infect his reason?

Ari.

Not a soul

But felt a fever of the mad, and played

Some tricks of desperation: All but mariners
Plunged in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-starting (then like reeds, not hair)
Was the first man that leaped.

Pros.

But was not this nigh shore?
Ari.

Why, that's my spirit!

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

Close by, my master.

Not a hair perished;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and, as thou bad'st me,
In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle :
The king's son have I landed by himself;
Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs,
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot.

Pros.

Of the king's ship,

Safely in harbour

The mariners, say, how thou hast disposed,
And all the rest of the fleet?

Ari.

Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vexed Bermoothes2, there she is hid:
The mariners all under hatches stowed;

Whom, with a charm joined to their suffered labour,
I have left asleep and for the rest of the fleet,

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