The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em,
Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key

Of officer and office, set all hearts i' th' State
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.

Miranda. O, good sir, I do!

Prospero.

I pray thee, mark me.

I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To closeness and the bettering of my mind
With that which, but by being so retir'd,
O'er-priz'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 indeed the duke, out o' th' substitution,
And executing th' outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative :--hence his ambition
Growing,-dost thou hear?

Miranda.

39

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

Prospero. 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) 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 most ignoble stooping.

Miranda.

O the heavens!

Prospero. Mark his condition, and th' event; then tell me

If this might be a brother.

Miranda.

I should sin

To think but nobly of my grandmother :

Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Prospero.

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' th' 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 th' purpose, did Antonio open

The gates of Milan; and, i' th' dead of darkness,
The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence

Me and thy crying self.

Miranda.

Alack, for pity!

I, not remembering how I cried out then,

Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint

That wrings mine eyes to't.

Prospero.

Hear a little further,

And then I'll bring thee to the present business
Which now's upon 's; without the which this story

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 colors 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 have quit it. There they hoist us,
To cry to th' sea that roar'd to us; to sigh
To th' winds, whose pity, sighing back again,

Did us but loving wrong.

Miranda.

Was I then to you!

Prospero.

Alack, what trouble

O, a cherubin

Thou wast, that did preserve me. Thou did'st smile,

Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,

Under my burthen groan'd; which rais'd in me

An undergoing stomach, to bear up

Against what should ensue.

Miranda.

How came we ashore?

Prospero. 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 lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,

From mine own library, with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom.

Miranda.

But ever see that man!

Prospero.

Would I might

Now I arise :

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

Here in this island we arriv'd; and here

Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit

41

Than other princess can, that have more time

For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

Miranda. 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?

Prospero.

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 !

Enter ARIEL.

Ariel. 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

Ariel and all his quality.

Prospero.

Hast thou, spirit,

Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
Ariel. 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: sometime I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the topmast,
The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors

43

O' th' dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not the fire and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,
Yea, his dread trident shake.

Prospero.

My brave spirit!

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil

Would not infect his reason?

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 afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring, then like reeds, not hair,-
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, "Hell is empty,

And all the devils are here."

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.

Prospero.

Of the king's ship

The mariners, say how thou hast dispos'd,

And all the rest o' th' fleet.

Ariel.

Safely in harbour

Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew

From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid;