1

Boats. What, must our mouths be cold?
Gonz. The king and prince at pray'rs? let us assist 'em.

For our case is as theirs.

Seb. I'm out of patience.

Ant. We're meerly cheated of our lives by drunkards. This wide-chopt rascal-would, thou might'st lye drowning

The washing of ten tides!

Gonz. He'll be hang'd yet,

Though every drop of water swear against it,

And gape at wid'st to glut him.

Seb. Mercy on us!

We split, we split! farewell my wife and children,

Brother farewel: we split, we split, we split!

Ant. Let's all fink with the king.

Seb. Let's take leave of him.

[A confused noise within.

[Exit.

Gonz. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of fea for an acre

of barren ground: ling, heath, broom, furze, any thing;-the

wills above be done, but I would fain die a dry death. [Exit.

SCENE. II.

The Inchanted Island.

Enter Profpero and Miranda.

Mira. F 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 fea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. Q! I have fuffer'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 fouls, they perish'd :
Had I been any god of pow'r, I would

Have

Have funk the sea within the earth or ere

It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and
The fraighted fouls 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'm more, or better

Than Profpero, master of a full poor cell,

And thy no greater father.

Mira. More to know

Did never meddle with my thoughts.

Pro. 'Tis time

I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,

And pluck my magick garment from me: fo!

[Lays down his mantle.

Lye there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes, have comfort.

The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd

The very virtue of compassion in thee,

I have with such provision in mine art

So fafely order'd, that there's no foul loft;

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: fit down,

For thou must now know farther.

Mira. You have often

Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt,
And left me to the bootless inquifition;
Concluding, Stay, not yet.

Pro. The hour's now come,

The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;

Obey, and be attentive. Canst remember

A time before we came unto this cell?

I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not
Out three years old.

Mira. Certainly, fir, I can.

Pro. By what? by any other house, or person ?

Of any thing the image tell me, that

Hath kept in thy remembrance?

Mira 'Tis far off;

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 back-ward and abysme of time?

If thou remember'st ought ere thou cam'st here,

How thou cam'st here thou may'st.

Mira. But that I do not.

Pro. 'Tis twelve years fince, Miranda; twelve years fince

Thy father was the duke of Milan, and

A prince of pow'r.

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, thou his only heir

A princess, no worse issu'd.

Mira. O the heav'ns!

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 help'd hither.

Mira. My heart bleeds

To think o'th' teene that I have turn'd you to,

Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.

Pro. My brother and thy uncle, call'd Anthonio

I pray thee mark me, (that a brother should

VOL. I.

B

---

Be

Be so perfidious!) he whom next thy felf
Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put
The manage of my state; (as at that time
Through all the signories it was the first,
And Profpero the prime duke; being fo 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 ftate grew stranger, being transported
And rapt in fecret studies) Thy false uncle -
Doft 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 plash for over-topping; new created

The creatures that were mine; I say, or chang'd 'em
Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key

Of officer and office, fet all hearts

To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was

The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,

And fuckt my verdure out on't. - Thou attend'st not.
Mira. Good fir, I do.

Pro. I pray thee, mark me then.
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 falfhood, in its contrary as great
As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,
A confidence fans bound. He being thus lorded,
Not only with what my revenue yielded,
But what my power might else exact; like one
Who loving an untruth, and telling't oft',
Makes such a finner of his memory

To

To credit his own lie; he did believe

He was, indeed, the duke, from substitution

And executing th' outward face of royalty

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

Mira. Your tale, fir, would cure deafness.

Pro. To have no screen between this part he plaid,

And him he plaid 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) wi' th' 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 much ignoble stooping.

Mira. O the heav'ns!

Pro. Mark the condition, and th' event, then tell me

If this might be a brother?

Mira. I should fin,

To think not nobly of my grand-mother.

Pro. Good wombs have born bad fons. Now the condition :

This king of Naples being an enemy

To me inveterate, hears my brother's fuit;

Which was, that he in lieu o' th' 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 levy'd, one mid-night
Fated to th' purpose, did Anthonio open
The gates of Milan, and i' th' dead of darkness
The minifters for th' purpose hurry'd thence
Me and thy crying self.

Mira. Alack for pity!

I not remembring how I cry'd out then,

B2

Will