[A confused noise within: Mercy on us!
    We split, we split! Farewell, my wife and children!
    Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we split!]
  ANTONIO. Let's all sink wi' th' King.
  SEBASTIAN. Let's take leave of him.
                                   [Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN]
  GONZALO. 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
    dry death. [Exeunt]

SCENE 2

The Island. Before PROSPERO'S cell

[Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA]

  MIRANDA. 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 th' welkin's cheek,
    Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered
    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 ere
    It should the good ship so have swallow'd and
    The fraughting souls within her.
  PROSPERO. Be collected;
    No more amazement; tell your piteous heart
    There's no harm done.
  MIRANDA. O, woe the day!
  PROSPERO. 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.
  MIRANDA. More to know
    Did never meddle with my thoughts.
  PROSPERO. '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 ordered 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 farther.
  MIRANDA. You have often
    Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd,
    And left me to a bootless inquisition,
    Concluding 'Stay; not yet.'
  PROSPERO. 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.
  MIRANDA. Certainly, sir, I can.
  PROSPERO. By what? By any other house, or person?
    Of any thing the image, tell me, that
    Hath kept with thy remembrance?
  MIRANDA. '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?
  PROSPERO. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it
    That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else
    In the dark backward and abysm of time?
    If thou rememb'rest aught, ere thou cam'st here,
    How thou cam'st here thou mayst.
  MIRANDA. But that I do not.
  PROSPERO. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
    Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and
    A prince of power.
  MIRANDA. Sir, are not you my father?
  PROSPERO. 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
    And princess no worse issued.
  MIRANDA. O, the heavens!
    What foul play had we that we came from thence?
    Or blessed was't we did?
  PROSPERO. Both, both, my girl.
    By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence;
    But blessedly holp hither.
  MIRANDA. O, my heart bleeds
    To think o' th' teen that I have turn'd you to,
    Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.
  PROSPERO. 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 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 secret studies. Thy false uncle-
    Dost thou attend me?
  MIRANDA. Sir, most heedfully.
  PROSPERO. Being once perfected how to grant suits,
    How to deny them, who t' advance, and who
    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, set all hearts i' th' state
    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.
  MIRANDA. O, good sir, I do!
  PROSPERO. 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 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 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-
    Dost thou hear?
  MIRANDA. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
  PROSPERO. 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 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 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.