The Tempest

Page 04

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 sans 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'st thou 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 Millaine, 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 Millaine) To most ignoble stooping

Mira. Oh the heauens:

Pros. 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, Good wombes haue borne bad sonnes

Pro. Now the Condition. This King of Naples being an Enemy To me inueterate, hearkens my Brothers suit, Which was, That he in lieu o'th' premises, Of homage, and I know not how much Tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the Dukedome, and confer faire Millaine With all the Honors, on my brother: Whereon A treacherous Armie leuied, one mid-night Fated to th' purpose, did Anthonio open The gates of Millaine, and ith' dead of darkenesse The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying selfe

Mir. Alack, for pitty: I not remembring how I cride out then Will cry it ore againe: it is a hint That wrings mine eyes too't

Pro. Heare a little further, And then I'le bring thee to the present businesse Which now's vpon's: without the which, this Story Were most impertinent

Mir. Wherefore did they not That howre destroy vs?

Pro. Well demanded, wench: My Tale prouokes that question: Deare, they durst not, So deare the loue my people bore me: nor set A marke so bloudy on the businesse; but With colours fairer, painted their foule ends. In few, they hurried vs aboord a Barke, Bore vs some Leagues to Sea, where they prepared A rotten carkasse of a Butt, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sayle, nor mast, the very rats Instinctiuely haue quit it: There they hoyst vs To cry to th' Sea, that roard to vs; to sigh To th' windes, whose pitty sighing backe againe Did vs but louing wrong

The Tempest Page 05

William Shakespeare Plays

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