MIRANDA.

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 sea, mounting to the welkin's check,
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,
Dashed 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 e'er

It should the good ship so have swallowed, and
The fraughting souls within her.

No more amazement: tell your piteous heart,
There's no harm done.

MIRA.

PRO.

O, woe the day!

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.

MIRA.

More to know

'Tis time

Did never meddle with my thoughts.

PRO.

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 wrack, which touch'd

The very virtue of compassion in thee,

I have with such prevision in mine art
So safely order'd, that there is no soul-
No, not so much perdition as a hair,
Betid to any creature in the vessel

Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down;

For thou must now know further.

Obey, and be attentive. Can'st thou remember

A time before we came unto this cell?

I do not think thou can'st; for then thou wast not
Out three years old.

PRO. By what? by any other house, or person? Of any thing the image, tell me, that

Hath kept with 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?

But how is it,

PRO. Thou had'st, and more, Miranda.
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.

MIRA.

But that I do not.

PRO. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve years since, Thy father was the duke of Milan, and

A prince of power.

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

And princess-no worse issued.

MIRA.

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.

MIRA.

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

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 seigniories 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?

PRO. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them; whom to advance, and whom

To trash for overtopping; new created

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

Of officer and office, set all hearts i' th' 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. MIRA. O good sir! I do.

PRO.

I

pray thee, mark me. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate 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, 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 of the substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative:-Hence his ambition
Growing,-Dost thou hear?

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

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 homage;
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend
The dukedom, yet unbow'd, (alas, poor Milan !)
To much ignoble stooping.

PRO. Mark his condition, and the event; then tell me, If this might be a brother.