Mira. 'Tis far off; And rather like a dream, than an assurance 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 seeft thou elfe In the dark back-ward and abyfme of time? If thou remember'ft aught, ere thou cam'st here; 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 faid, thou waft my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Milan; thou his only heir, A princefs, no worse issu’d. Mira. O the heav'ns! What foul play had we, that we came from thence? Pro. Both, both, my girl: By foul play (as thou fay'ft) were we heav'd thence; Mira. O, my heart bleeds To think o' th' teene that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther. Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Anthonio thee, mark me;- (that a brother should I pray Be fo perfidious!) he whom next thyfelf Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put Without a parallel; thofe being all my study:) And to my ftate grew ftranger; being transported, And rapt in fecret ftudies. Thy falfe uncle(Doft thou attend me?) Mira. Sir, moft heedfully. A 3 Pro.. Pro. Being once perfected how to grant fuits, How to deny them; whom t' advance, and whom To trash for overtopping; new created The creatures that were mine; I fay, or chang'd 'em, And fuck'd my verdure out on't.Thou attend's not. Pro. I pray thee, mark me then. I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated Like a good parent, did beget of him As my truft was; which had, indeed, no limit, But what my power might elfe exact; like one, Made fuch a finner of his memory, To credit his own lie; he did believe He was indeed the Duke, from substitution, With all prerogative. Hence his ambition growing- Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafnefs. Pro. To have no fcreen between this part he play'd, And him he play'd 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 moft ignoble ftooping. Mira. O the heav'ns! Pro Pro. Mark his condition, and th' event; then tell me, If this might be a brother? Mira. I fhould fin, To think but nobly of my grand-mother; Pro. Now the condition: This King of Naples, being an enemy Mira. Alack, for pity! I, not rememb'ring how I cry'd out then, That wrings mine eyes to't. Pro. Hear a little further, And then I'll bring thee to the prefent bufinefs, Were most impertinent. Mira. Why did they not That hour deftroy us? Pro. Well demanded, wench; My tale provokes that queftion. Dear, they durit not (So dear the love my people bore me) fet A mark fo bloody on the business; but Bore us fome leagues to fea; where they prepar'd Mira. Alack! what trouble Was Was I then to you! Pro. O a cherubim Thou waft, that did preserve me. Thou didst fmile, Infufed with a fortitude from heav'n, (When I have mock'd the sea with drops full-falt; Under my burthen groan'd;) which rais'd in me An undergoing ftomach, to bear up Against what fhould enfue. Mira. How came we a-fhore? Pro. By providence divine. Some food we had, and fome fresh water, that Out of his charity (being then appointed So of his gentleness, Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me Mira. Would I might But ever fee that man! Pro. Now, I arife: Sit ftill, and hear the last of our fea-forrow. Have I, thy fchoolmafter, made thee more profit Mira. Heav'ns thank you for't! And now, I pray you Sir, (For ftill 'tis beating in my mind) your reason For railing this fea-storm? Pro. Know thus far forth, By accident moft strange, bountiful Fortune Will ever after droop.- Here ceafe more queftions; Miranda fleeps. Come Come away, fervant, come; I'm ready now: SCENE III. Enter Ariel. Ari. All hail, great mafter! grave Sir, hail! I come To answer thy beft pleasure: be't to fly; To fwim; to dive into the fire; to ride On the curl'd clouds: to thy ftrong bidding task Pro. Haft thou, fpirit, Perform'd to point the tempeft that I bade thee? I boarded the King's fhip: now on the beak, And fight out-running were not; the fire and cracks Pro. My brave, brave spirit! Who was fo firm, fo conftant, that this eoil Ari. Not a foul But felt a fever of the mind, and play'd Some tricks of defperation: all, but mariners, Pro. Why, that's my spirit! But was not this nigh fhore? Ari. Close by, my mafter. Pro. But are they, Ariel, fafe? Ari. Not a hair perish'd: On their fuftaining garments not a blemish, But frefher than before. And as thou bad'ft me, The |