The Tempest | Page 4

you
a mind to sink?

SEBASTIAN. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,
incharitable dog!
BOATSWAIN. Work you, then.
ANTONIO. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent noisemaker, we
are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.
GONZALO. I'll warrant him for drowning, though the ship were no
stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched wench.
BOATSWAIN. Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses: off to sea
again: lay her off.
[Enter MARINERS, Wet]
MARINERS. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!
[Exeunt]
BOATSWAIN. What, must our mouths be cold?
GONZALO. The King and Prince at prayers! let us assist them, For our
case is as theirs.
SEBASTIAN. I am out of patience.
ANTONIO. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards.-- This
wide-chapp'd rascal--would thou might'st lie drowning The washing of
ten tides!
GONZALO. He'll be hang'd yet, Though every drop of water swear
against it, And gape at wid'st to glut him.
[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' the King.
[Exit]
SEBASTIAN. Let's take leave of him.
[Exit]
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.
[Exit]

SCENE 2
[The Island. Before the cell of PROSPERO]
[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 creatures 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.
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 wrack, 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