Sebaf. I'm out of Patience.
Ant. We are meerly cheated of our Lives by Drunkards, This wide-chopt Rafcal-would thou might ft lye drowning the washing of ten Tides.
Gonz. He'll be hang'd yet,
Though every Drop of Water fwear against it,
And gape at wid❜ft to glut him.
[A confufed Noife within.
We fplit, we split: Farewel my Wife and Children, Farewel Brother: We fplit, we fplit, 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 Death. [Exit,
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 ftinking Pitch, But that the Sea, mounting to the Welkins Cheek, Dashes the Fire out. Oh! I have fuffered With those that I faw fuffer: A brave Vessel (Who had, no doubt, fome noble Creature in her) Dafh'd all to Pieces. Oh! the Cry did knock Against my very Heart: Poor Souls, they perifh'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 fo have fwallow'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. Pro. 'Tis true,
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 Compaffion in thee,
I have with fuch Compaffion in mine Art So fafely 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'ft cry, which thou faw'ft fink: 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 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 thou remember A time before we came unto this Cell?
I do not think thou canft, for then thou wast not Out three Years old.
Mira. Certainly, Sir, I can.
Pro. By what? by any other House, or Perfon? 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 hadft, and more, Miranda: But how is it That this lives in thy Mind? What feeft thou elfe
In the dark backward and Abyfme of Time?
If thou remembreft ought e'er thou cam'ft here, How thou cam'ft here thou may'st,
Mira. But that I do not.
Pre. Twelve Year fince, Miranda, twelve Year fince
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 faid thou waft my Daughter, and thy Father Was Duke of Millan, and his only Heir, And Princefs; no worse iffu'd.
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 fayeft) were we heav'd thence, But bleffedly holp hither.
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; I 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 Signories it was the first, And Profpero the prime Duke, being so 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 Stranger, being transported And rapt in fecret Studies. Thy falfe 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 fay, or chang'd 'em, Or elfe 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'ft not Mira. O good Sir, I do.
Pro. I pray thee mark me:
I thus neglecting worldly Ends, all dedicated To Clofeness, 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 Falfhood in its contrary, as great
As my Truft was; which had indeed no Limit, A Confidence fans bound. He being thus Lorded, Not only with what my Revenue yielded, But what my Power might elfe exact; like one Who having into Truth, by telling of it, Made fuch 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 Abfolute 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.
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 prefently 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 Minifter for th' Purpose hurry'd thence Me, and thy crying felf.
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 prefent Business Which now's upon's, without the which this Story Were moft impertinent,
Mira. Wherefore did they not
That Hour destroy us?
Pro. Well demanded, Wench;
My Tale provokes that Question. Dear, they durft not; So dear the Love my People bore me: Nor fet
A Mark fo bloody on the Bufinefs; 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 Carcafs of a Boat, not rigg'd,
Nor Tackle, nor Sail, nor Maft; the very Rats Inftinctively had quit it: There they hoift ust To cry to th' Sea that roar'd to us to figh To th' Winds, whofe Pity fighing back again Did us but loving Wrong.
Mira. Alack! what Trouble
Was I then to you?
Pro. O! a Cherubim
Thou waft that did preferve me: Thou didst fmile,
Infufed 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 enfue.
Mira. How came we a-fhore?
Pro. By Providence divine
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