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Boats. What, must our mouths be cold?

Gonz. The king and prince at pray'rs ? let us assist 'em. For our cafe is as theirs.

Seb. I'm out of patience.

Ant. We're meerly cheated of our lives by drunkards. This wide-chopt rascal-would, thou might'ft lye drowning The washing of ten tides!

Gonz. He'll be hang'd yet,

Though every drop of water swear against it,

And gape at wid'ft to glut him.

Seb. Mercy on us!

[A confufed noife within.

We fplit, we split! farewell my wife and children,
Brother farewel: we split, we split, we split!

Ant. Let's all fink with the king.

Seb. Let's take leave of him.


Gonz. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground: ling, heath, broom, furze, any thing;-the wills above be done, but I would fain die a dry death. [Exit.


The Inchanted Island.

Enter Profpero and Miranda.

Mira. F by your art, my dearest father, you have
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them:
The sky, it seems, would pour down ftinking pitch,
But that the fea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out.
Q! I have fuffer'd

With thofe that I faw fuffer: a brave vessel
(Who had, no doubt, fome noble creatures in her)
Dafh'd all to pieces. O! the cry did knock
Against my very heart: poor fouls, they perish'd :
Had I been any god of pow'r, I would


Have funk the fea within the earth or ere

It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and
The fraighted fouls within her.

Pro. Be collected;

No more amazement; tell your piteous heart,
There's no harm done.

Mira. O wo the day!

Pro. 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, nought knowing
Of whence I am, nor that I'm more, or better
Than Profpero, mafter 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 magick garment from me: so!

[Lays down his mantle. Lye there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes, have comfort.

The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd

The very virtue of compassion in thee,

I have with fuch provifion in mine art

So fafely order'd, that there's no foul loft;

No not fo much perdition as an hair

Betid to any creature in the vessel

Which thou heard'ft cry, which thou faw'ft fink: fit down, For thou must now know farther.

Mira. You have often

Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt,
And left me to the bootlefs inquifition;
Concluding, Stay, not yet.

Pro. The hour's now come,

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

A time before we came unto this cell?

I do not think thou canft, for then thou waft not
Out three
years old.

Mira. Certainly, fir, I can.

Pro. By what? by any other house, or person ? Of any thing the image tell me, that

Hath kept in thy remembrance?

Mira 'Tis far off;

And rather like a dream, than an affurance

That my remembrance warrants.

Had I not

Four or five women once that tended me?

Pro. Thou hadft, and more, Miranda: but how is it That this lives in thy mind? what seest thou else

In the dark back-ward and abyfme of time?

If thou remember'ft ought ere thou cam'ft here,

How thou cam'ft here thou may'ft.

Mira. But that I do not.

Pro. 'Tis twelve years fince, Miranda; twelve years fince Thy father was the duke of Milan, and

A prince of pow'r.

Mira. Sir, are not you my father?

Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou waft my daughter; and thy father Was duke of Milan, thou his only heir

A princefs, no worse iffu'd.

Mira. O the heav'ns!

What foul play had we that we came from thence?
Or bleffed was't we did?

Pro. Both, both, my girl:

By foul play (as thou fay'ft) were we heav'd thence,

But bleffedly help'd hither.

Mira. My heart bleeds

To think o'th' teene that I have turn'd you to,

Which is from my remembrance.

remembrance. Please you, farther. Pro. My brother and thy uncle, call'd AnthonioI pray thee mark me, (that a brother should




Be fo perfidious!) he whom next thy felf
Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put
The manage of my state; (as at that time
Through all the fignories it was the first,
And Profpero the prime duke; being fo reputed
In dignity, and for the liberal arts,

Without a parallel; those being all my study,
The government I caft upon my brother,
And to my state grew ftranger, being transported
And rapt in fecret ftudies) Thy false uncle
Doft thou attend me?

Mira. Sir, most heedfully.

Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them; whom t'advance, and whom
To plash for over-topping; new created

The creatures that were mine; I fay, or chang'd 'em
Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key
Of officer and office, fet all hearts

To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was
The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,
And fuckt my verdure out on't.

Mira. Good fir, I do.

Pro. I pray thee, mark me then.

Thou attend'ft not.

I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To closeness, and the bettering of, my mind
With that which, but by being fo retired,
O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother
Awak'd an evil nature; and my truft,
Like a good parent, did beget of him

A falfhood, in its contrary as great


my truft 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 elfe exact; like one
Who loving an untruth, and telling't oft',
Makes fuch a finner of his memory


To credit his own lie; he did believe

He was, indeed, the duke, from fubftitution
And executing th' outward face of royalty

With all prerogative. Hence his ambition growing-
Doft thou hear, child?

Mira. Your tale, fir, would cure deafnefs.

Pro. To have no screen between this part he plaid,
And him he plaid it for, he needs will be

Abfolute Milan. Me, poor man! — my library
Was dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties
He thinks me now incapable: confederates
(So dry he was for fway) 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 much ignoble stooping.

Mira. O the heav'ns!

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

Mira. I fhould fin,

To think not nobly of my grand-mother.

Pro. Good wombs have born bad fons. Now the condition :

This king of Naples being an enemy

To me inveterate, hears my brother's fuit;
Which was, that he in lieu o' th' premises,
Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,
Should prefently extirpate me and mine
Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan,
With all the honours, on my brother. Whereon
A treacherous army levy'd, one mid-night
Fated to th' purpose, did Anthonio open


gates of Milan, and i̇' th' dead of darkness The minifters for th' purpose hurry'd thence Me and thy crying self.

Mira. Álack for pity!

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I not remembring how I cry'd out then,


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