The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,
But that the sea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O! I have suffered
With those that I saw suffer; a brave vessel,
Who had, no doubt, some noble creature 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 e'er

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

Pro.

Be collected:

Tell your piteous heart,

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, naught 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

Did never meddle with my thoughts.
Pro.

"Tis time

I should inform thee farther. 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 provision in mine art

So safely order'd, that there is no soul-
No, not so much perdition as an 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 farther.

Mira.

You have often

Begun to tell me what I am: but stopp'd,
And left me to a bootless inquisition,

Concluding, "Stay, not yet."

Pro.

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?

I do not think thou canst; for then thou wast not
Out three years old.

Mira.

Certainly, sir, I can.

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?

Pro. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it, 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 years 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, and his only heir

And Princess, no worse issued.

Mira.

O, the heavens!

What foul play had we, that we canie 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 o' th' teen' that I have turned you to,

Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther. Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, called 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?

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

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' 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.
I pray thee, mark me.

Mira.

O good sir! I do.

Pro. 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 o' th' substitution,
And executing th' 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) wi' th' 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.

Mira.

O the heavens !

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

I should sin

Mira.
To think but nobly of my grandmother.
Now the condition.

Pro.

This King of Naples, being an enemy

To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
Which was, that he, in lieu o' th' 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 th' purpose, did Antonio open
The gates of Milan; and i' th' dead of darkness
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me, and thy crying self.

Mira.

Alack, for pity!

I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then,
Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint,

That wrings inine eyes to 't.

Pro.

Hear a little farther,

And then I'll bring thee to the present business
Which now's upon's; without the which this story

Were most impertinent.

Mira.

Wherefore did they not

Well demanded, wench:

That hour destroy us?

Pro.

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 prepared
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,
-Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,
To cry to th' sea that roar'd to us, to sigh

To th' winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.

Mira.

Was I then to you!

Pro.

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 burthen groan'd; which rais'd in me
An undergoing stomach,1 to bear up

Against what should ensue.

Mira.

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 (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 my dukedom.

Mira.

Would I might

Now I arise:

But ever see that man!

Pro.

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.

Here in this island we arriv'd; and here

[Puts on his robe.

Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit

Than other princes can, that have more tinie

For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

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?

Know thus far forth.

Pro.
By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune
(Now my dear lady) hath mine enemies

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.

1 Resolution.

Come away, servant, come! I am ready now:
Approach, my Ariel: come.

Enter Ariel.

Ariel. 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.

Hast thou, spirit,

Perform'd to point1 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. 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
O' th' 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,
Yea, his dread trident shake.

Pro.
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,
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.

Pro.

Why, that's my spirit!

But was not this nigh shore?

Ari.

Close by, my master.

Not a hair perish'd:

Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe?

Ari.

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.
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.

Pro.

Of the King's ship The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd, And all the rest o' th' fleet?

Safely in harbour

Ari.
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 stowed;

Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,

1 Exactly.

2 Bustle.

3 Bermudas.