Sebaf. I'm out of Patience.
Ant. We are meerly cheated of our Lives by Drunkards, This wide-chopt Rafcal would thou might'st 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'st to glut him. [A confused Noise within.
Mercy on us.
We split, we split: Farewel my Wife and Children,
Farewel Brother: 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: Long Heath, brown Furze, any thing; the Wills above be done, but I would fain die a dry
SCENE II.
Enter Profpero and Miranda.
Mira. If by your Art (my dearest Father) you have
Put the wild Waters in this Roar, allay them:
The Sky it seems would pour down stinking Pitch,
But that the Sea, mounting to the Welkins Cheek,
Dashes the Fire out. Oh! I have fuffered
With those that I saw suffer: A brave Vessel
(Who had, no doubt, some noble Creature in her)
Dash'd all to Pieces. Oh! the Cry did knock
Against my very Heart: Poor Souls, they perish'd.
Had I been any God of Power, I would
Have funk the Sea within the Earth, or e'er
It should the good Ship so have fswallow'd, and
The fraughting Souls within her.
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 am more better
Than Profpero, Master of a full poor Cell,
And thy no greater Father.
Mira. More to know
Did never meddle with my Thoughts.
I should inform thee farther. Lend thy Hand,
And pluck my magick Garment from me: So!
Lye there my Art. Wipe thou thine Eyes, have Comfort,
The direful Spectacle of the Wrack, which touch'd
The very Virtue of Compassion in thee,
I have with such Compassion in mine Art
So safely order'd, that there is no Soul loft,
No not fo much Perdition as an Hair
Betide to any Creature in the Vessel
Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink:
Sit 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 bootless Inquifition;
Concluding, Stay; not yet.
Pro. The Hour's now come,
The very Minute bids thee ope thine Ear,
Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember
A time before we came unto this Cell?
I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not
Out three Years old.
Mira. Certainly, Sir, I can.
Pro. By what? by any other House, or Person?
Of any thing the Image, tell me, that
Hath kept with thy Remembrance.
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 hadst, and more, Miranda: But how is it
That this lives in thy Mind? What seest thou elfe
In the dark backward and Abysme of Time?
If thou remembrest ought e'er thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here thou may'st,
Mira. But that I do not.
Pro. Twelve Year since, Miranda, twelve Year since
Thy Father was the Duke of Millan, 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 Millan, and his only Heir,
And Princess; no worse issu'd.
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 sayest) were we heav'd thence,
But blessedly holp hither.
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;
I pray thee mark me, that a Brother should
Be so 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 Signories 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 fecret Studies. Thy false Uncle,
(Doft thou attend)?
Mira. Sir, most heedfully.
Pro. Being once perfected how to grant Suits,
How to deny them; whom t'advance, and whom
To trash for over-topping; new created
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, fet all Hearts o'th' State
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: Thou attend'st not
Mira. O good Sir, I do.
Pro. 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 retired
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 Falshood 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 into 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;
Doft thou hear?
Mira. Your Tale, Sir, would cure Deafness.
Pro. To have no Screen between this Part he plaid,
And him he plaid it for; he needs will be
Absolute Millan; 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 Millan!)
To much ignoble stooping.
Pro. Mark his Condition, and th' Event, then tell me
If this might be a Brother.
Mira. I should fin,
To think but nobly of my Grand-mother;
Good Wombs have born bad Sons.
Pre. 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 Millan,
With all the Honours, on my Brother. Whereon
A treacherous Army levy'd, one Mid-night
Fated to th' Purpose, did Anthonio open
The Gates of Millan, and i'th' dead of Darkness
The Minister for th' Purpose hurry'd thence
Me, and thy crying self.
Mira. Alack for pity!
I not remembring how I cry'd out then
Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint
That wrings mine Eyes to't.
Pro. Hear a little further,
And then I'll bring thee to the present Business
Which now's upon's, without the which this Story
Were most impertinent,
Mira. Wherefore did they not
That Hour destroy us?
Pro. 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 hurry'd us aboard a Bark,
Bore us fome Leagues to Sea, where they prepar'd
A rotten Carcass of a Boat, not rigg'd,
Nor Tackle, nor Sail, nor Mast; the very Rats
Instinctively had quit it: There they hoist us
To cry to th' Sea that roar'd to us; to figh
To the Winds, whose Pity fighing back again
Did us but loving Wrong.
Mira. Alack! what Trouble
Was I then to you?
Pro. O! a Cherubim
Thou wast that did preserve me: Thou didst smile,
Infused with a Fortitude from Heav'n,
When I have deck'd the Sea with Drops full falt,
Under my Burthen groan'd, which rais'd in me
An undergoing Stomach, to bear up
Against what should ensue.
Mira. How came we a-shore?
Pro. By Providence divine;
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