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Pro. Fifteen years since, my child, .but fifteen

years, Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and A prince of power.

Mir. Sir, are not you my father?

Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said, you were my daughters, and your father Was Duke of Milan: thou, my girl, his heir, A princess, no worse issu’d.

Mir. 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.

Mir. O, my heart bleeds To think o'the teen that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance !-Please you, fur

Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Antonio,-
I pray thee, mark me,--that a brother should
Be so perfidious!-to him I put
The manage of

my government,
And to my state grew stranger, being transported,
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle-
Dost thou attend me?

Mir. Sir, most heedfully.

Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny 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 hid my princely trunk, And suck'd my verdure out on'.—Thou attend'st

Mir. O, good sir, I do.

Pro. Being thus lorded,
Not only with what my revenue yielded,

But what my power might else exact,
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 hoinage,
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend
The dukedom, yet unbow'd, (alas, poor Milan !)
To most ignoble stooping :- Whereupon,
A treacherous army levy’d, one mid-night
Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open
The gates of Milan; and, i'the dead of darkness,
The ministers for the purpose hurry'd thence
Me, thy young sister, and thy crying self.

Mir. Alack, for pity!

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.

Mir. Wherefore did they not - That hour destroy us?

Pro. Girl, they durst not, So dear the love my people bore me, set A mark so bloody on the business; but With colours, fairer painted their foul ends. In few, they hurry'd 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.

Mir. Alack! what trouble
Were we then to you!

Pro. O! two cherubim
Ye were, that did preserve me; ye did smile,

Infused with a fortitude from Heaven;
Which rais'd in me
An undergoing stomach, to bear up
Against what should ensue.
Mir. How came we ashore ?

Pro. By providence divine, -
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity, (he 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 gentle-

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,
From my own library, with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.

Mir. 'Would I might
But ever see that man !

[Rises. Pro. Mark me,—and hear the last of our sea-sor


you, sir,

Here in this island we arriv'd; and here
Have I, your schoolmaster, made you more profit
Than other princes can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

Mir. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray (For still 'tis beating in my mind,) your reason For raising this sea-storm?

Pro. Know thus far forth :-
By accident most strange, bountiful fortune,

my dear lady, hath mine enemies Brought on these seas; 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. [Takes up his Wand, and charms Miranda to


Here cease more questions ;

[MIRANDA sinks into her Seat. Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dulness, And give it way :I know, thou canst not chuse.

[MIRANDA sleeps.-PROSPERO puts on his Mantle, 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’t to fly,
To swim, to dive into the sea, to ride
On the curld clouds; to thy strong bidding, task
Ariel, and all his quality.

Pro. Hast thou, spirit,
Prepar'd to point the Tempest that I bade thee?
Ari. To


article. Pro. What is the time o’the day? Ari. Past the mid season. Pro. At least two glasses : The time 'twixt six and

now, Must by us both be spent most preciously. Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me

pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me.

Pro. How now,-moody?
What is't thou canst demand ?

Ari. My liberty.
Pro. Before the time be out! no more.
Ari. I


thee :
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge, or grumblings: thou didst promise
To bate me a full year,

Pro. Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?

Ari. No.
Pro. Thou dost; and think'st it much, to tread the


Of the salt deep;
To run upon the sharp wind of the north;
To do me business in the veins o'the earth,
When it is bak'd with frost.

Ari. I do not, sir.
Pro. Thou ly'st, malignant thing! Hast thou

forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age, and envy, Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her ?

Ari. No, sir.
Pro. Thou hast: Where was she born? Speak;

tell me.

Ari. Sir, in Argier.

Pro. O, was she so? I must, Once in a month, recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sy.

For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know’st, was banish'd; for one thing she did,
They would not take her life :-Is not this true?

Ari. Ay, sir.
Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with

And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, was then her servant:
And, for thou wast à spirit too delicate
To act her earthly, and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd, thou didst painfully remain
A dozen years; within which space she died,

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