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

Pros.
Be collected:
No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart
There's no harm done.

Mir.
O! woe the day.
Pros.
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.

20

Pros.

10

Both, both, my girl: 61 By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence;

But blessedly holp hither.

30

Mir.
You have often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd,
And left me to a bootless inquisition,
Concluding, Stay; not yet.'

Pros.

The hour's now come,
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember
A time before we came unto this cell?

That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
Four or five women once that tended me?
Pros. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But
how is it

Mir.
Certainly, sir, I can.
Pros. By what? by any other house or person?
Of any thing the image tell me that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.

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That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?
If thou remember'st aught ere thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here, thou may'st.
Mir.
But that I do not.
Pros. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year
since,

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

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Mir.
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.

Mir.

'Tis far off; And rather like a dream than an assurance

Mir.

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

Mir.
More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.
Pros.
'Tis time
I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand
And pluck my magic garment from me. So:
Lays down his mantle.
Lie 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 safely order'd, that there is no soul-
Or else new form'd them: having both the key
No, not so much perdition as an hair
Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state
Betid to any creature in the vessel
To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was
Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,
Sit down;
And suck'd my verdure out on 't. Thou attend'st

For thou must now know further.

not.

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

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I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not A falsehood in its contrary as great

Out three years old.

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 to advance, and who so
To trash for over-topping, new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd

them,

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 90
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

As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,
A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,
Not only with what my revenue yielded,

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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 indeed the duke; out o' the substitution, | Against what should ensue.
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative: hence his ambition grow.

Mir.

ing,

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,-11
So dry he was for sway,-wi' 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.

Mir.

O! the heavens. Pros. Mark his condition and the event; then tell me

If this might be a brother.

Mir.

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

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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,
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 131
Me and thy crying self.

Mir.

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 to 't.

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.
Mir.
That hour destroy us?
Pros.
Well demanded, wench:
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they
durst not,
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Wherefore did they 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 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, 150
Did us but loving wrong.

How came we ashore?
Pros. By Providence divine.
Some food we had and some fresh water that 160
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,

Out of his charity, 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 my own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.
Mir.

Would I might

But ever see that man!
Pros.

Now I arise.

Resumes his mantle.

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 170
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, 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 180
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 am ready now.
Approach, my Ariel: come!

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I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd 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

201

Mir.

Was I then to you.

O, a cherubin

Pros.
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

O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not the fire and

cracks

Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble:

Alack! what trouble Yes, his dread trident shake.
Pros.
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 210
Plung'd in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,

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

Why, that's my spirit! 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.

Pros. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought
with child

And here was left by the sailors: thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant:
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy 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
And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy
groans

280

As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island,

Save for the son that she did litter here,

A freckled whelp hag-born,-not honour'd with
A human shape.

Then alla-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?
Ari.
Close by, my master.
Pros. But are they, Ariel, safe?
Ari.
Not a hair perish'd;
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before; and, as thou bad'st me
In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle. 220
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
The mariners, say how thou hast dispos'd,
And all the rest o' the fleet.

Ari.

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Safely in harbour
Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes; there she's hid:
The mariners all under hatches stow'd;
Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
I have left asleep and for the rest o' the fleet
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd
And his great person perish.

Pros.
Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work.
What is the time o' the day?

Ari.

Past the mid season. Pros. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now

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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.

Pros.

How now ? moody?
What is 't thou canst demand?

Ari.
My liberty.
Pros. Before the time be out? no more!
Ari.
I prithee,
Remember I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst

promise

To bate me a full year.

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

No.

Pros. Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze

Of the salt deep,

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

250

Ari. Sir, in Argier.
Pros.

Ari.

Yes; Caliban her son.

Pros. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban,
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
What torment I did find thee in; thy groans
Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts
Of ever-angry bears. It was a torment
To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not again undo: it was mine art,
When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape
The pine and let thee out.

Ari.
I thank thee, master.
Pros. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak
And peg thee in his knotty entrails till
Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.
Pardon, master :
I will be correspondent to command,
And do my spiriting gently.

Ari.

Pros.

Do so, and after two days
I will discharge thee.
Ari.
That's my noble master !
What shall I do? say what what shall I do? 300
Pros. Go make thyself like a nymph o' the
sea: be subject

To no sight but thine and mine, invisible
To every eyeball else. Go take this shape
And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence!
Exit ARIEL.
Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;
Awake!

Mir. The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me.

Pros.
Shake it off. Come on:
We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.

Mir.

I do not love to look on.

Ari.

I do not, sir.
Pros. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou
forgot

The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy
Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her? Pros.
But, as 'tis,
Ari. No, sir.
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Pros.
Thou hast. Where was she born? Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices
speak; tell me.
That profit us. What ho! slave! Caliban!

260

290

'Tis a villain, sir,

310

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Pros.

Abhorred slave, Which any print of goodness wilt not take, Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour

One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known; but thy vile race, Though thou didst learn, had that in 't which good natures Could not abide to be with: therefore wast thou Deservedly confin'd into this rock,

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Ari. Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell :
Burthen. Ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong, bell.
Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd
father.

This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.

Pros. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance
And say what thou seest yond.
Mir.
What is 't? a spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, 411
It carries a brave form: but 'tis a spirit.

Pros. No, wench: it eats and sleeps and hath such senses

As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest Was in the wreck; and but he's something stain'd With grief that 's beauty's canker, thou might'st call him

A goodly person.

He hath lost his fellows

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