ACT 1
Scene 2

...a dry death.
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 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 creature in her,
Dashed all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perished.
Had I been any god of power, I would
Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere
It should the good ship so have swallowed, and
The fraughting souls within her.

...no harm done.
O, woe the day!

...no greater father.
More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.

...now know farther.
They sit.
You have often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopped
And left me to a bootless inquisition,
Concluding “Stay. Not yet.”

...three years old.
Certainly, sir, I can.

...with thy remembrance.
’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?

...here thou mayst.
But that I do not.

...prince of power.
Sir, are not you my father?

...no worse issued.
O, the heavens!
What foul play had we that we came from thence?
Or blessèd was ’t we did?

...blessedly holp hither.
O, my heart bleeds
To think o’ th’ teen that I have turned you to,
Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.

...thou attend me?
Sir, most heedfully.

...Thou attend’st not.
O, good sir, I do.

...Dost thou hear?
Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

...most ignoble stooping.
O, the heavens!

...be a brother.
I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother.
Good wombs have borne bad sons.

...thy crying self.
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.

...Were most impertinent.
Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?

...but loving wrong.
Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you!

...what should ensue.
How came we ashore?

...above my dukedom.
Would I might
But ever see that man.

...not so careful.
Heavens thank you for ’t. And now I pray you, sir—
For still ’tis beating in my mind—your reason
For raising this sea storm?

...canst not choose.
Miranda falls asleep.

...slept well. Awake.
Miranda wakes.
The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

...us kind answer.
rising
’Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.

...isle with Calibans.
Abhorrèd slave,
Which any print of goodness wilt not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other. When thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes
With words that made them known. But thy vile race,
Though thou didst learn, had that in ’t which good natures
Could not abide to be with. Therefore wast thou
Deservedly confined into this rock,
Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

...thou seest yond.
What is ’t? A spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form. But ’tis a spirit.

...to find ’em.
I might call him
A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

...maid or no.
No wonder, sir,
But certainly a maid.

...my father wracked.
Alack, for mercy!

...wrong. A word.
Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that e’er I saw, the first
That e’er I sighed for. Pity move my father
To be inclined my way.

...am a man!
There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.
If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with ’t.

...charmed from moving.
O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He’s gentle and not fearful.

...thy weapon drop.
Beseech you, father—

...on my garments.
Sir, have pity.
I’ll be his surety.

...him are angels.
My affections
Are then most humble. I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

...shalt do me.
to Ferdinand
Be of comfort.
My father’s of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech. This is unwonted
Which now came from him.

...not for him.
They exit.

ACT 3
Scene 1

...I do it.
Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a distance, unobserved.
Alas now, pray you,
Work not so hard. I would the lightning had
Burnt up those logs that you are enjoined to pile.
Pray, set it down and rest you. When this burns
’Twill weep for having wearied you. My father
Is hard at study. Pray now, rest yourself.
He’s safe for these three hours.

...strive to do.
If you’ll sit down,
I’ll bear your logs the while. Pray, give me that.
I’ll carry it to the pile.

...sit lazy by.
It would become me
As well as it does you, and I should do it
With much more ease, for my good will is to it,
And yours it is against.

...visitation shows it.
You look wearily.

...is your name?
Miranda.—O my father,
I have broke your hest to say so!

...every creature’s best.
I do not know
One of my sex, no woman’s face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own. Nor have I seen
More that I may call men than you, good friend,
And my dear father. How features are abroad
I am skilless of, but by my modesty,
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you,
Nor can imagination form a shape
Besides yourself to like of. But I prattle
Something too wildly, and my father’s precepts
I therein do forget.

...this patient log-man.
Do you love me?

...prize, honor you.
I am a fool
To weep at what I am glad of.

... weep you?
At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer
What I desire to give, and much less take
What I shall die to want. But this is trifling,
And all the more it seeks to hide itself,
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning,
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence.
I am your wife if you will marry me.
If not, I’ll die your maid. To be your fellow
You may deny me, but I’ll be your servant
Whether you will or no.

...thus humble ever.
My husband, then?

...Here’s my hand.
clasping his hand
And mine, with my heart in ’t. And now farewell
Till half an hour hence.

...A thousand thousand.
They exit.

ACT 4
Scene 1

...I pray you.
Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.

...is thine own.
Ferdinand and Miranda move aside.

...works him strongly.
Never till this day
Saw I him touched with anger, so distempered.

...my beating mind.
We wish your peace.
They exit.

ACT 5
Scene 1

...me my dukedom.
Ferdinand and Miranda, playing at chess.
to Ferdinand
Sweet lord, you play me false.

...for the world.
Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,
And I would call it fair play.

...here. Ferdinand stands.
rising and coming forward
O wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O, brave new world
That has such people in ’t!

...you, draw near.
They all exit.