22

THE TEMPEST.

I have with such provision in mine art
So safely ordered, that there is no soul-
No, not so much perdition as an hair,
Betid to any creature in the vessel

[ACT I.

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

down;

For thou must now know further.

You have often

Mira.
Begun to tell me what I am; but stopped
And left me to a bootless inquisition;
Concluding, Stay, not yet.-

Pro.

The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
Obey, and be attentive.

The hour's now come;

Can'st thou remember

A time before we came into this cell?

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

Mira.

Pro. By what? by any other house, or person?
Certainly, sir, I can.
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 had'st, 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 can'st thou 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

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 heaved thence:
But blessedly holp hither.

Mira.

O, my heart bleeds

To think o' the teen that I have turned you to,
Which is from my remembrance! Please you, further.
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 loved, 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?

Mira.

Sir, most heedfully.

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 changed them,
Or else new formed them; having both the key

Of officer and office, set all hearts i' th' state
To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was
The ivy, which had hid my princely_trunk,

And sucked 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 retired,
O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother
Awaked 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 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 most ignoble stooping.

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:
Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Pro.

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.

Mira.
Alack, for pity!
I, not rememb'ring how I cry'd out then,
Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint,

That wrings mine eyes.

Pro.

Hear a little further,

And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon us; without the which, this story Were most impertinent.

Mira.

That hour destroy us?

Pro.

Wherefore did they not

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 prepared

A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigged,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had quit it; there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roared to us; to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.

Mira.

Was I then to you!

Pro.

Alack! what trouble

O! a cherubim

Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

When I have decked the sea with drops full salt;
Under my burden groaned; which raised in me
An undergoing stomach, 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 loved my books, he furnished me,

From my own library, with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom.

Mira.

But ever see that man!

Pro.

'Would I might

Now I arise:

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

Here in this island we arrived; 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.

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 inclined 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.

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 curled clouds: to thy strong bidding, task
Ariel, and all his quality.

Pro.

Hast thou, spirit,
Performed 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 flamed 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 out-running were not; The fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seemed to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,
Yea, his dread trident shake.

Pro.
My brave spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that his coil
Would not infect his reason?

Ari.
Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and played
Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners,
Plunged 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 leaped; cried, Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.

Pro.

But was not this nigh shore?

Ari.

Why, that's my spirit!

Close by, my master.

Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe?
Ari.

Not a hair perished;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before and as thou bad'st me,
In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle:
The king's son have I landed by himself;