No more amazement: tell your piteous heart,

There's no harm done.

Mira.

Pro.

O, woe the day!

I have done nothing but in care of thee,

No harm.

(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 Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
And thy no greater father.

Mira.

More to know

'Tis time

Did never meddle with my thoughts.

Pro.

I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magick garment from me.-So;
[Lays down his mantle.
Lie there my art.-Wipe thou thine eyes; have com-

fort.

The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely order'd, that there is no soul—
No, not so much perdition as an hair,
Betid to any creature in the vessel

Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink.
Sit down;

For thou must now know further.

Mira.

You have often

Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd
And left me to a bootless inquisition;

Concluding, Stay, not yet.—

Pro.

The hour's now come;

The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;

Obey, and be attentive. Can'st thou remember
A time before we came unto this cell?

I do not think thou can'st; 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,
Hath kept with thy remembrance.

Mira.

that

"Tis far off;

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 had'st, and more, Miranda: But how

That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm7 of time?
If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here, thou may'st.

Mira

Pro. Twelve years since,

But that I do not.

Miranda, twelve years since, thy father was.
The duke of Milan, 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 Milan; and his only heir

A princess;-no worse issued.

Mira.

O, the heavens !

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 say'st, were we heav'd thence;

But blessedly holp hither.

Mira.

O, my heart bleeds To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance! Please you, further Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Antonio,

I

pray

thee, mark me,-that a brother should Be so perfidious!-he whom, next thyself,

Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put

The
manage of my state; as, at that time,
Through all the signiories 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 wrapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle-
Dost thou attend me?

Mira.

Sir, most heedfully.

Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them; whom to advance, and whom To trash9 for over-topping; new created

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

:

Of officer and office, set all hearts

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:
I pray thee, mark me.

Mira,

8 Sorrow.

O good Sir, I do.

9 Cut away.

Pro. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate
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 the duke; out of the substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative:-Hence his ambition
Growing, Dost hear?

Mira.

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Pro. 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 dry2 he was for sway) with the 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.

Mira.

O the heavens !

1 Without.

2 Thirsty.

Pro. Mark his condition, and the event; then tell

me,

If this might be a brother.

Mira.

I should sin

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

Pro.

Now the condition.

;

This king of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit
Which was, that he in lieu3 o' the 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 the purpose, did Antonio open

The gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness,
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me, and thy crying self.

Mira.

Alack, for pity!

I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then,

Will

cry

it o'er again; it is a hint,4

That wrings mine eyes.

Pro.

Hear a little further,

And then I'll bring thee to the present business

Which now's upon us; without the which, this story Were most impertinent.

Mira.

Wherefore did they not

Well demanded, wench;

My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not;