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Prospero. To have no screen between this part he

played

And him he played 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' King of Naples
To give him annual tribute, do him homage,
Parcasm Subject his 'coronet' to his 'crown,' and bend
The dukedom yet unbowed (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

Now the condition....

To think but nobly of my grandmother,
Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Prospero.

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 [her tears falling again]. Alack, for pity:

I not remembring 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 us: without the which, this story

[blocks in formation]

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....

[he falters and proceeds swiftly

In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,

Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared
A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigged,

Nor tackle, sail, nor mast, the very rats
Instinctively have quit it: There they hoist us
To cry to th' sea, that roared 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 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.

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 loved my books, he furnished 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...

[he resumes his mantle

Here in this island we arrived, and here
Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princes can, that have more time
For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.

Miranda. Heaven thank you for't....[she kisses him]
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 inclined to sleep... [at a pass of his hands, her
eyes close and presently she sleeps] 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way...I know thou canst not choose...

He traces a magic circle on the grass.

Come away, servant, come; I am ready now,
Approach my Ariel.... [he lifts his staff] Come!

ARIEL appears aloft.

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 curled clouds... [alighting and bowing] to thy

strong bidding, task

Ariel, and all his quality.
Prospero.

Hast thou, spirit,

Performed 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 flamed amazement. Sometime I'ld divide
And burn in many places; on the topmast,
The yards and boresprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join.... Jove's lightnings, the precursors
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?

Ariel.

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 afire with me the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring-then like reeds, not hair-
Was the first man that leaped; cried, 'Hell

is empty,

And all the devils are here.'

Why, that's my spirit:

Prospero.

But was not this nigh shore?
Ariel.

Close by, my master.

Prospero [anxious]. But are they, Ariel, safe?
Ariel.
Not a hair perished:

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and, as thou badst me,
In troops I have dispersed 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 disposed,
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-vexed Bermoothes, there she's hid;
The mariners all under hatches stowed,

Who, with a charm joined to their suffred labour,
I have left asleep: and for the rest o'th' fleet,
Which I dispersed, they all have met again,
And are upon the Mediterranean flote
Bound sadly home for Naples,

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wracked,

And his great person perish.

Prospero.

Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is performed; but there's more work:

What is the time o'th' day?

Ariel.

[mimics

Past the mid season.

Prospero [glancing at the sun]. At least two glasses...

The time 'twixt six and now,

Must by us both be spent most preciously.

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