A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: Enter a Ship-master and a Boteswaine Master. Ote-swaine.
Botes. Heere Master: What cheere?
Mast. Good: Speake to th’ Mariners: fall too't yarely, or we run our selues a ground, Exit.bestirre, bestirre.
Enter Mariners
Botes. Heigh my hearts, cheerely, cheerely my harts: yare, yare: Take in the toppe-sale: Tend to th' Master's whistle: Blow till thou burst thy winde, if roome enough.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando, Gonzalo, and others
Alon. Good Boteswaine haue care: where's the Master? Play the men.
Botes. I pray now keepe below.
Anth. Where is the Master, Boson?
Botes. Do you not heare him? you marre our labour, Keepe your Cabines: you do assist the storme.
Gonz. Nay, good be patient.
Botes. When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roarers for the name of King? to Cabine; silence: trouble us not.
Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboord.
Botes. None that I more loue then myselfe. You are a Counsellor, if you can command these Elements to silence, and worke the peace of the present, wee will not hand a rope more, vse your authoritie: If you cannot, giue thankes you haue liu'd so long, and make your selfe readie in your Cabine for the mischance of the houre, if it so hap. Cheerely good hearts: out of our Exit.way I say.
Gon. I haue great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning marke vpon him: his complexion is perfect Gallowes: stand fast good Fate to his hanging, make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our owne doth little aduantage: If he be not borne to bee Exit.hang'd, our case is miserable.
Enter Boteswaine.
Botes. Downe with the top-Mast: yare, lower, lower, bring her to Try with Main-course. A plague——— A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio, and Gonzalo. vpon this howling: they are lowder then the weather, or our office: yet againe? What do you heere? Shal we giue ore, and drowne, haue you a minde to sinke?
Sebas. A poxe o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous incharitable Dog.
Botes. Worke you then.
Anth. Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noysemaker, we are lesse afraid to be drownde, than thou art.
Gonz. I'll warrant him for drowning, though the Ship were no stronger than a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as an unstanched wench.
Botes. Lay her a hold, a hold, set her two courses off to Sea againe, lay her off.
Enter Mariners wet.
Mari. All lost, to prayers, to prayers, all lost.
Botes. What must our mouths be cold?
Gonz. The King, and Prince, at prayers, let's assist them, for our case is as theirs.
Sebas. I'am out of patience.
An. We are meerly cheated of our liues by drunkards, This wide-chopt rascall, would thou mightst lye drowning the washing of ten Tides.
Gonz. Hee'l be hang'd yet, Though euery drop of water sweare against it, A confused noyse within.And gape at widst to glut him. Mercy on vs. We split, we split! Farewell my wife, and children, Farewell brother: we split, we split, we split.
Anth. Let's all sink with’ King.
Seb. Exit.Let's take leaue of him.
Gonz. Now would I giue a thousand furlongs of Sea, for an Acre of barren ground: Long heath, Browne firrs, any thing; the wills aboue be done, but I would Exit.faine dye a dry death.
Scena Secunda
Enter Prospero and Miranda.
Mira. If by your Art (my deerest father) you haue Put the wild waters in this Rore; alay them: The skye it seemes would powre down stinking pitch, But that the Sea, mounting to th' welkins cheeke, Dashes the fire out. Oh! I haue suffered With those that I saw suffer: A braue vessell (Who had no doubt some noble creature in her) Dafh'd all to peeces: O the cry did knocke Against my very heart: poore soules, they perish'd. Had I byn any God of power, I would Haue suncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere It should the good Ship so haue swallow'd, and The fraughting Soules within her.
Pros. Be collected, No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart there's no harme done.
Mira. O woe, the day.
Pros. No harme: I haue done nothing, but in care of thee (Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who Art ignorant of what thou art. naught knowing Of whence I am: nor that I am more better Then Prospero, Master of a full poore cell, And thy no greater Father.
Mira. More to know Did neuer medle with my thoughts.
Pros. 'Tis time I should in forme thee farther: Lend thy hand And plucke my Magick garment from me: So, Lye there my Art: wipe thou thine eyes, haue comfort, The direfull spectacle of the wracke which touch'd The very vertue of companion in thee: I haue with such prouision in mine Art So safely ordered, that there is no soule No not so much perdition as an hayre Betid to any creature in the vessell Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sinke: Sit downe, For thou must now know farther.
Mira. You haue often Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt And left me to a bootelesse Inquisition, Concluding, stay: not yet.
Pros. The howr's now come The very minute byds thee ope thine eare, Obey, and be attentiue. Canst thou remember A time before we came vnto this Cell? I doe not thinke thou canst, for then thou was't not Out three yeeres old.
Mira. Certainely Sir, I can.
Pros. By what? by any other house, or person? Of any thing the Image, tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance.
Mira. 'Tis farre off: And rather like a dreame, then an assurance That my remembrance warrants; Had I not Fowre, or hue women once, that tended me?
Pros. Thou hadst; and more Miranda: But how is it That this liues in thy minde? What seest thou els In the dark-backward and Abisme of Time? Yf thou remembrest ought ere thou cam'st here, How thou cam'st here thou maist.
Mira. But that I doe not.
'Pros. Twelue yere since (Miranda) twelue yere since, Thy father was the Duke of Millainc and A Prince of power.'
Mira. Sir, are not you my Father?
Pros. Thy Mother was a peece of vertue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Millaine, and his onely heire, And Princesse: no worse Issued.
Mira. O the heauens, What fowle play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed was't we did?
Pros. Both, both my Girle. By fowle-play (as thou saist) were we heau'd thence, But blessedly holpe hither.
Mira. O my heart bleedes To thinke oth'teene that I haue turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance, please you, farther;
Pros. My brother and thy vncle, call'd Anthonio: I pray thee marke me, that a brother should Be so perfidious: he, whom next thy selse Of all the world I lou'd, and to him put The mannage 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 liberall Artes, Without a paralell; those being all my studie, The Gouernment I cast vpon my brother, And to my State grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies, thy false vncle (Do'st thou attend me? )
Mira. Sir, most heedefully.
Pros. Being once perfected how to graunt suites, how to deny them: who t'aduance, and who To trash for ouer-topping; new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd'em, Or els new form'd'em: hauing both the key, Of Officer, and office, set all hearts i'th state To what tune pleas'd his eare, that now he was The Iuy which had hid my princely Trunck, And suckt my verdure out on't: Thou attend'st not?
Mira. O good Sir, I doe.
Pros. I pray thee marke me: I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closenes, and the bettering of my mind with that, which but by being so retir'd Ore-priz'd all popular rate: in my false brother Awak'd an euill nature, and my trust Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood in it's contrarie, as great As my trust was, which had indeede no limit, A confidence fans bound. He being thus Lorded, Not onely with what my reuenew yeelded, But what my power might els exact. Like one Who hauing into truth, by telling of it, Made such a synner of his memorie To credite his owne lie, he did beleeue He was indeed the Duke, out o'th'Substitution And executing th'outward face of Roialtie With all prerogatiue: hence his Ambition growing: Do'stthou heare?
Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafenesse.
Pros. To haue no Schreene between this part he plaid, And him he plaid it for, he needes will be Absolute Millainc, Me (poore man) my Librarie Was Dukedome large enough: of temporall roalties He thinks me now incapable. Confederates (so drie he was for Sway) with King of Naples To giue him Annuall tribute, doe him homage Subiect his Coronet, to his Crowne and bend The Dukedom yet vnbow'd (alas poore Millainc) To most ignoble stooping.
Mira. Oh the heauens:
Prof. Marke his condition, and th'euent, then tell me If this might be a brother.
Mira. I should sinne To thinke but Noblie of my Grand-mother,
Ote-swaine.
Ote-swaine.