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SCENE I.-On a Ship at Sea. A Storm, with

Thunder and Lightning:


Enter a Ship-master and a Boatswain.


Boats. Here, master : what cheer?

Master. Good, speak to the mariners : fall to 't yarely, or we run ourselves aground : bestir, bestir. [Exit.

Enter Mariners. Boats. Heigh, my hearts ! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts ! yare, yare : take in the topsail ! Tend to the master's whistle.—Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough! Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND,

GONZALO, and others. Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master ? Play the men.

Boats. I pray now, keep below.
Ant. Where is the master, boson ?
Boats. Do you not hear him ? You mar our

labour : keep your cabins : you do assist the storm.

Gon. Nay, good, be patient.

Boats. When the sea is. Hence! What care these roarers for the name of king ? To cabin : silence ! trouble us not.

Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

Boats. None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor ; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more ; use your authority. If you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap.—Cheerly, good hearts.-Out of our way, I say.

(Exit. Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow : methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good fate, to his hanging ! make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage ! If he be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable.

(Exeunt. Re-enter Boatswain. Boats. Down with the topmast; yare ; lower, lower ! bring her to try with main course. [A cry within.) A plague upon this howling ! they are louder than the weather, or our office

Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and Gonzalo. Yet again ? what do you here? Shall we give o'er and drown ? Have you a mind to sink ?

Seb. A pox o' your throat! you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog !

Boats. Work you, then.

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Ant. Hang, cur, hang ! you whoreson, insolent noisemaker, we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

Gon. I'll warrant him for drowning ; though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched wench.

Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold ! set her two courses : off to sea again ; lay her off !

Re-enter Mariners, wet. Mar. All lost ! to prayers, to prayers ! all lost !

[Exeunt. Boats. What, must our mouths be cold ? Gon. The king and prince at prayers ! let us

assist them, For our case is as theirs. Seb.

I'm out of patience. Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives by

drunkards. This wide-chopp'd rascal ;-'Would thou mightst

lie drowning, The washing of ten tides ! (Exit Boatswain. Gon.

He'll be hang'd yet ; Though every drop of water swear against it, And gape at wid'st to glut him. [Confused voices within.Mercy on us ! We split, we split!

Farewell, my wife and children ! Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we split !-]

Ant. Let's all sink with the king. (Exit. Seb. Let's take leave of him.

[Exit. Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground ; ling, heath, broom, furze, anything. The wills above bé done ! but I would fain die a dry death. [Exit.

SCENE II.— The Island: before the Cell of


Enter PROSPERO 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 welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer'd With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Against my very heart ! Poor souls! they

perish'd. Had I been any god of power,

I would Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and The fraughting souls within her. Pro.

Be collected ; No more amazement : tell your piteous heart There's no harın done. Mira.

O, woe 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 Prospero, master of a full-poor cell,
And thy no greater father.

More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.

'Tis time

I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, And pluck my magic garment from me.-So :

[Lays down his mantle. Lie there, my art.—Wipe thou thine eyes ; have

comfort. 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 soulNo, 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 farther. 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. 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 anything the image tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance. Mira.

'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 hadst, and more, Miranda. But

how is it That this lives in thy mind? What see'st thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time ?

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