MIRA.
I should sin
To think but1 nobly of my grandmother.
PRO. Good wombs have borne bad sons. Now the con
dition:
This King of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit:
Which was, that he, in lieu 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 mid-night
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 it then,
Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint 2
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.
dsh Well demanded, wench:
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,
So dear the love my people bore me, set
A mark so bloody on the business; but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,
Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had quit it; there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.
1 other than.
ness,
Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,
From mine own library, with volumes that
I prize above my Dukedom.
MIRA.
'Would I might
But ever see that man!
PRO.
Now I arise: [resumes his robe.
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this Island we arriv'd; and here
170
Have I, thy school-master, made thee more profit
Than other princesses can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.
MIRA. Heavens thank you for 't! And now,
And now, I pray
you, Sir
(For still 'tis beating in my mind), your reason
For raising this sea-storm?
PRO.
Know thus far forth.
By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore: and by my prescience
I find my zenith doth depend upon
A most auspicious star; whose influence
If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes,
1 obscure; perhaps 'degg'd,' i.e. sprinkled.
Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions:
Thou art inclin❜d to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way: [aside.] I know thou canst not
choose.
[MIRANDA sleeps.
Come away, servant, come! I am ready now:
Approach, my Ariel; come!
Enter ARIEL.
ARI. All hail, great master! grave Sir, hail! I come
To answer thy best pleasure: be't to fly,
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curl'd clouds: to thy strong bidding, task
Ariel and all his quality.1
PRO.
Hast thou, Spirit,
Perform'd to point the Tempest that I bade thee?
ARI. To every article:
I boarded the King's ship: now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd amazement; sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places: on the top-mast,
The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not: the fire and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble-
Yea, his dread trident shake.
PRO.
My brave Spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
Would not infect his reason?
ARI.
Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation. All but the mariners
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the King's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair)
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.
Why, that's my Spirit!
PRO.
But was not this nigh shore?
1 fellowship.
Must by us both be spent most preciously.
ARI. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me.
PRO.
What is 't thou canst demand?
ARI.
PRO. Before the time be out? No more.
ARI.
2 turns of the hour-glass.
Remember, I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise
To bate me a full year.
PRO.
From what a torment I did free thee?
ARI.
No.
PRO. Thou dost; and think'st it much, to tread the ooze
Of the salt deep,
To run upon the sharp wind of the north,
To do me business in the veins o' the earth
When it is bak'd with frost.
ARI.
I do not, Sir.
PRO. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot
The foul witch, Sycorax, who with age and envy
into a hoop-hast thou forgot her?
Was grown
ARI. No, Sir.
PRO.
Po tell me.
Thou hast where was she born? speak;
ARI. Sir, in Argier.
PRO.
O, was she so? I must,
Once in a month, recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forgett'st. This damn'd witch, Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know'st, was banish'd; for one thing she did,
They would not take her life. Is not this true?
ARI. Ay, Sir.
PRO. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant,
And, for thou wast a Spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain
A dozen years; within which space she died,
And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans
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