Mir.

O the heavens!

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

Pros.

Both, both, my girl:

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

Mir.

O, my heart bleeds To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to,

Which is from my remembrance! Please you, further. Pros. 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?

Mir.

Sir, most heedfully.

Pros. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, who t' advance, and who To trash 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, 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. Mir. O, good sir, I do.

Pros.

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 retir'd,

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 lorded,
Not only with what my revenue yielded,
But what my power might else exact, - like one
Who having into truth, 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?

Mir.

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

Pros. 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

alas, poor Milan!

To give him annual tribute, do him homage,
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend
The dukedom, yet unbow'd,

To most ignoble stooping.
Mir.

-

O the heavens!

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

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

Pros.

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,
Shakespeare. VII.

-

6

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 practice, 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.

Mir.

Alack, for pity!

I, not remembering how I cried on't then,
Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint

That wrings mine eyes to't.

Pros.

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.

Mir.

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, they hurried us aboard a bark,

Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd
A rotten carcass 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.

Mir.

Was I then to you!

Pros.

Alack, what trouble

O, a cherubin

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.

Mir.

How came we ashore?

Pros. By Providence divine.

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

Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,

Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,
Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,

From mine own library, with volumes that
I prize above

Mir.

my dukedom.

But ever see that man!

Pros.

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
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,— For still 'tis beating in my mind,

For raising this sea-storm?

Pros.

Now

- your reason

Know thus far forth.

By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune
dear lady hath mine enemies
my
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 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'm 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,

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

On the curl'd clouds,

Ariel and all his quality.

Pros.

to thy strong bidding task

Hast thou, spirit,

Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Ari. To every article.

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 distinctly,
Then meet, and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not: the fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seem'd 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 coil Would not infect his reason?

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 up-staring, · then like reeds, not hair,
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, "Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here."

Pros.

But was not this nigh shore?

Why, that's my spirit!

Ari.