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SCENE II. The Island: before the Cell of Prospero. Enter Prospero and Miranda.

Mira. If 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 cheek, 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, 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 swallow'd, and The frei hting souls within her. Be collected; No more amazement: tell your piteous heart, There's no harm done.

Pro.

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The dire.ul spectacle of the wreck, 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
For thou must now know further.
[down;
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. Caust 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.

Certainly, sir, I can.

Mira.
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 Thy father was the duke of Milan, and [since,

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 theifce?
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.
O, my heart bleeds

Mira.

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 repu ed

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?
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 [them,
The creatures that were mine; I say, or chang'd
Or else new form'd them having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts

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'erpriz'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 the duke; out of the substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative:-Hence his ambition
Growing, Dost hear?

Mira.
Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
Pro. To have no screen between this part he
And him he play'd it for, he needs will be [play'd,
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 bim 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 the event; then tell If this might be a brother. Mira.

I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Pro.

[me,

Now the condition. This king of Naples, being an enemy

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

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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. 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, uor mast; the very rats Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us, To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again, Did us but loving wrong.

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Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this island we arriv'd; and here
Have I, thy school-master, made thee more profit
Than other princes can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. [you, sir,
Mira. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray
(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
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.
Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;
Approach, my Ariel; come.

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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,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd amazement: sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the top-mast,
The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly;
Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O'the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight outrunning were not: the fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seem'd 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?

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But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation all, but mariners,
Plang'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up starting (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!
Close by, my master.
Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe?
Ari.
Not a hair perish'd;
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'the fleet?

But was not this nigh shore?
Ari.

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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;
Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
I have left asleep and for the rest o'the fleet,
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again;
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,

Boond sadly home for Naples;

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreek'd,
And his great person perish.

Pro.
Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work":
What is the time o'the day?

Ari.

Past the mid season. Pro. At least two glasses: the time 'twixt six and Must by us both be spent most preciously. [now, Ari. Is there more toil! Since thou dost give me pains,

Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me.
How now ? moody?

Pro.

What is't thou canst demand?

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Pro. Thou hast Ari. Sir, in Argier.

Pro.

[tell me. where was she born! speak;

O, was she so? I must, Once in a month, recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch, Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier,

Thou know'st, was banish'd; for one thing she did, They would not take her life. Is not this true!

Ari. Ay, sir.

[child,

Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyelf, wast then her servant :
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate.
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did contine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd, thou didst painfully remain

A dozen years; within which space she died,
And left thee there; where thou didst yent thy groans,
As fast as mill-wheels strike: then was this island
(Save for the son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp, hag-born), not honour'd with
A human shape.

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Pro. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban, Whom now I keep in service. Thon best know'st What torment I did find thee in thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears it was a torment To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not again undo; it was mine art, When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape The pine, and let thee out.

Ari. I thank thee, master. Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

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Do so; and after two days

Ari.
That's my noble master!
What shall I do? say what: what shall I do?

Pro. Go, make thyself like to a nymph o'the sen;

Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible

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London, Published by Thomas Teag. No Cheapside April 1.1812

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