Act 1 - Scene 2
The island. Before PROSPERO'S cell.
Enter PROSPERO and 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 the 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 creature
Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd.
been any god of power, I would
Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere
It should the good ship so have
The fraughting souls within her.
No more amazement: tell your piteous heart
There's no harm done.
O, woe the day!
I have done nothing but in care of thee,
Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who
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.
More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.
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 wreck, which touch'd
very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely ordered that there is
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.
You have often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd
And left me to a bootless inquisition,
'Stay: not yet.'
The hour's now come;
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember
time before we came unto this cell?
I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not
Out three years old.
Certainly, sir, I can.
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