The Tempest | Page 5

o' th' teen that I have turn'd
you to, Which is from my remembrance. Please you, further.
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' the 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 the event; then tell me If this
might be a brother.
MIRANDA. I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good
wombs have borne bad sons.
PROSPERO. Now the condition. 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 midnight Fated to the purpose, did
Antonio open The gates of Milan; and, i' th' dead of darkness, The
ministers for th' purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self.
MIRANDA. Alack, for pity! I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then,
Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint That wrings mine eyes to't.
PROSPERO. Hear a little further, And then I'll bring thee to the present
business Which now's upon us; without the which this story Were most
impertinent.
MIRANDA. Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us?
PROSPERO. Well demanded, wench: My tale provokes that question.
Dear, they durst not, So dear the love my people bore me, nor 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 prepared A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Nor
tackle, sail, nor mast: the very rats Instinctively have quit it. There they
hoist us, To cry to th' sea, that roar'd to us: to sigh To th' winds, whose
pity, sighing back again, Did us but loving wrong.
MIRANDA. Alack! what trouble Was I then to you!
PROSPERO. O, a cherubin Thou wast that did preserve me! Thou didst
smile, Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck'd the sea
with drops full salt, Under my burden groan'd: which rais'd in me An
undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue.
MIRANDA. How came we ashore?
PROSPERO. By Providence divine. Some food we had and some fresh
water that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity,--who being
then