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. What foul play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed was't we did? O, the heavens ! Both, both, my girl: Pro. By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence; But blessedly holp hither. 0, my Mira. 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, And to my state grew stranger, being transported, 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 6 The creatures that were mine; I say, or chang'd them, To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was 5 Sorrow. 6 Cut away. And suck'd my verdure out o'nt.-Thou attend'st not: I pray thee, mark me. Mira. O good Sir, I do. A falsehood, in its contrary as great To credit his own lie,- he did believe Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Pro. To have no screen between this part he play'd And him he play'd it for, he needs will be Mira. O the heavens ! Pro, Mark his condition, and the event; then tell me, If this might be a brother. Mira. I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother. Pro. Now the condition. This king of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; The gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness, Mira. Alack, for pity!' I, not rememb❜ring how I cried out then, cry it o'er again; it is a hint, Will 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. That hour destroy us? Pro. 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 With colours fairer painted their foul ends. Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd Mira. Alack! what trouble Was I then to you! Pro. O! a cherubim 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 Mira. How came we ashore? Pro. By Providence divine. Some food we had, and some fresh water, that Out of his charity, (who being then appointed 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, I prize above Mira. my dukedom. 'Would I might Now I arise: But ever see that man! Pro. Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Have I, thy school-master, made thee more profit Mira. 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? Pro. 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 7 Stubborn resolution. 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 can'st not choose.[MIRANDA sleeps. 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 fire, to ride On the curl'd clouds; to thy strong bidding, task Ariel, and all his quality. Pro. I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak, Pro. 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, 8 The minutest article. 9 Bustle, tumult. |