Mira. You have often Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd Pro. The hour's now come; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; I do not think thou canst; for then thou wast not Mira. Certainly, sir, I can. Pro. By what? by any other house, or person? Mira. 'Tis far off; And rather like a dream, than an assurance Pro. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda: But how is it, If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here, 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 A 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 o'the teen that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance! Please you, further. I pray thee, mark me,-that a brother should And Prospero the prime duke; being so reputed 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 The creatures that were mine; I say or chang'd them, To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was And suck'd my verdure out on't.-Thou attend'st not: Mira. O good sir, I do. Pro. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate As my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit, But what my power might else exact,-like one, To credit his own lie,-he did believe Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. 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; Out of the dukedom; and confer fair Milan, The gates of Milan; and, i'the dead of darkness, Mira. Alack, for pity! I, not rememb'ring how I cry'd out then, That wrings mine eyes. Pro. Hear a little further, And then I'll bring thee to the present business Were most impertinent. Mira. Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us? Pro. Well demanded, wench; 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. Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again, Mira. Alack! what trouble Was I then to you! Pro. O! a cherubim Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst smile, When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt; Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me Mira. How came we ashore? 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, I prize above my dukedom. Mira. 'Would I might But ever see that man! Pro. Now I arise: Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit [sir Mira. Heaven's thank you for't! And now, I pray you, (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, A most auspicious star; whose influence Will ever after droop.-Here cease more questions; 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 Pro. Hast thou, spirit, Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee? Ari. To every article. I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak, And sight-out-running were not: The fire, and cracks Pro. My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Ari. Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners, Pro. Why, that's my spirit! But was not this nigh shore? On their sustaining garments not a blemish, Pro. Of the king's ship, The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd, Ari. Safely in harbour Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,. |