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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 snits, 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
A falsehood, in its contrary as great
my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit,
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
Pro. Now the condition.
Mira. Alack, for pity!
Pro. Hear a little further,
Mira. Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us?
Pro. Well demanded, wench;. My tale provokes that question. Dear, they darst 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 carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively had quit it; there they hoist ns, To cry to the sea that roar'd to us, to sigb To the winds, wbose pity, sighing back again, Did us bnt loving wrong.
Mira. Alack! what trouble
Pro. O! a cherubim
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
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.
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
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,
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies Bronght 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.
Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;
To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curl'd clouds; to thy strong bidding, task
Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Ari. To every article.
I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
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, Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-stairing (then like reeds, not hair) Was the first man that leap'd; cried, Hell is empty, And all the devils are here.
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,.