Ant. Let's all sink with the king.

Seb. Let's take leave of him.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-The island: before the cell of Prospero. Enter Prospero and Miranda.

Mir. 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 check, 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'er1

It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and
The freighting souls within her.

Pro.

Be collected;

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

Mira.

O, wo the day!

Pro.

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.

Mira.

More to know

Mira.

But that I do not.

Pro. Twelve years since,
Miranda, twelve years 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; and his only heir
A princess;-no worse issued.

Mira.

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

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 further.
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 wrapt 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 to 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
To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was
The ivy, which had my princely trunk,

And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st

not:

I pray thee, mark me.

Mira.

O good sir, I do.

Pro. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate To closeness, and the bettering of my mind With that, which, but by being so retir'd, O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother, Awak'd an evil nature and iny 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 the duke; out of the substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative: -Hence his ambition
Growing,-Dost hear?

Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness

Pro. To have no screen between this part he

Was dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties
He thinks me now incapable: confederates
(So dry1 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!

But ever see that man! Pro.

'Would I might

tell me,

If this might be a brother.

Mira.

I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have born 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 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.

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.

Pro.

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.
Mira.
Wherefore did they not

That hour destroy us? Pro.

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

(So dear the love my people bore me) nor sct
A mark so bloody on the business; but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark;
Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd
A rotten carcase of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.

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

Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;
Approach, my Ariel; come.

Pro.

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

Ari.

Not a soul

But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd

Some tricks of desperation: all, but mariners, Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,

With hair upstaring (then like reeds, not hair,) Was the first man that leap'd; cried, Hell is empty, And all the devils are here.

Mira.

Pro. By Providence divine.

Some food we had, and some fresh water, that

Pro.

Why, that's my spirit!

A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,

But was not this nigh shore? Ari.

Out of his charity (who being then appointed Master of this design,) did give us, with

Close by, my master.

Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe?

Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,

Ari.

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,

Not a hair perish'd;

In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle: The king's son have I landed by himself;

(1) Thirsty. (2) Consideration. (3) Suggestion. (4) Sprinkled. (5) Stubborn resolution,

(6) The minutest article.

(7) Bustle, tumult,

B