LITMIR.BIZ

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Melting the darkness, so their rising senses

       Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle

       Their clearer reason.—O good Gonzalo!

       My true preserver, and a loyal sir

       To him thou follow’st, I will pay thy graces

       Home, both in word and deed.—Most cruelly

       Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter:

       Thy brother was a furtherer in the act;—

       Thou’rt pinch’d for’t now, Sebastian.—Flesh and blood,

       You, brother mine, that entertain’d ambition,

       Expell’d remorse and nature, who, with Sebastian,—

       Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,—

       Would here have kill’d your king; I do forgive thee,

       Unnatural though thou art! Their understanding

       Begins to swell, and the approaching tide

       Will shortly fill the reasonable shores

       That now lie foul and muddy. Not one of them

       That yet looks on me, or would know me.—Ariel,

       Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell:—

       [Exit ARIEL]

       I will discase me, and myself present,

       As I was sometime Milan.—Quickly, spirit;

       Thou shalt ere long be free.

       [ARIEL re-enters, singing, and helps to attire PROSPERO.]

       ARIEL

       Where the bee sucks, there suck I:

       In a cowslip’s bell I lie;

       There I couch when owls do cry.

       On the bat’s back I do fly

       After summer merrily:

       Merrily, merrily shall I live now

       Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

       PROSPERO.

       Why, that’s my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee;

       But yet thou shalt have freedom;—so, so, so.—

       To the king’s ship, invisible as thou art:

       There shalt thou find the mariners asleep

       Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain

       Being awake, enforce them to this place,

       And presently, I prithee.

       ARIEL.

       I drink the air before me, and return

       Or ere your pulse twice beat.

       [Exit]

       GONZALO.

       All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement

       Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us

       Out of this fearful country!

       PROSPERO.

       Behold, sir king,

       The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero.

       For more assurance that a living prince

       Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;

       And to thee and thy company I bid

       A hearty welcome.

       ALONSO.

       Whe’er thou be’st he or no,

       Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,

       As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse

       Beats, as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,

       Th’ affliction of my mind amends, with which,

       I fear, a madness held me: this must crave,—

       An if this be at all—a most strange story.

       Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreat

       Thou pardon me my wrongs.—But how should Prospero

       Be living and be here?

       PROSPERO.

       First, noble friend,

       Let me embrace thine age; whose honour cannot

       Be measur’d or confin’d.

       GONZALO.

       Whether this be

       Or be not, I’ll not swear.

       PROSPERO.

       You do yet taste

       Some subtleties o’ the isle, that will not let you

       Believe things certain.—Welcome, my friends all:—

       [Aside to SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO] But you, my brace of

       lords, were I so minded,

       I here could pluck his highness’ frown upon you,

       And justify you traitors: at this time

       I will tell no tales.

       SEBASTIAN.

       [Aside] The devil speaks in him.

       PROSPERO.

       No.

       For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother

       Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive

       Thy rankest fault; all of them; and require

       My dukedom of thee, which, perforce, I know

       Thou must restore.

       ALONSO.

       If thou beest Prospero,

       Give us particulars of thy preservation;

       How thou hast met us here, whom three hours since

       Were wrack’d upon this shore; where I have lost,—

       How sharp the point of this remembrance is!—

       My dear son Ferdinand.

       PROSPERO.

       I am woe for’t, sir.

       ALONSO.

       Irreparable is the loss, and patience

       Says it is past her cure.

       PROSPERO.

       I rather think

       You have not sought her help; of whose soft grace,

       For the like loss I have her sovereign aid,

       And rest myself content.

       ALONSO.

       You the like loss!

       PROSPERO.

       As great to me, as late; and, supportable

       To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker

       Than you may call to comfort you, for I

       Have lost my daughter.

       ALONSO.

       A daughter?

       O heavens! that they were living both in Naples,

       The king and queen there! That they were, I wish

       Myself were mudded in that oozy bed

       Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?

       PROSPERO.

       In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords

       At this encounter do so much admire

       That they devour their reason, and scarce think

       Their eyes do offices of truth, their words

       Are natural breath; but, howsoe’er you have

       Been justled from your senses, know for certain

       That

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