A treacherous army levied, one midnight

Fated to th’ 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 ⌈sitting⌉

Hear a little further,

And then I’ll bring thee to the present business

Which now’s upon’s, 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 barque,

Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared

A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigged,

Nor tackle, sail, nor mast—the very rats

Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,

To cry to th’ sea that roared 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 decked the sea with drops full salt,

Under my burden groaned; which raised 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 appointed

Master of this design—did give us; with

Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries

Which since have steaded much. So, of his gentleness,

Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me

From mine own library with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom.

MIRANDA

Would I might

But ever see that man!

PROSPERO

Now I arise.

⌈He stands and puts on his cloak⌉

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.

Here in this island we arrived, and here

Have I thy schoolmaster made thee more profit

Than other princes can, that have more time

For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.

MIRANDA

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.

PROSPERO

Know thus far forth.

By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,

Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies

Brought to this shore; and by my prescience

I find my zenith doth depend upon

A most auspicious star, whose influence

If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes

Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions.

Thou art inclined to sleep; ’tis a good dullness,

And give it way. I know thou canst not choose.

Miranda sleeps

Come away, servant, come! I am ready now.

Approach, my Ariel, come!

Enter Ariel

ARIEL

All hail, great master, grave sir, hail. I come

To answer thy best pleasure. Be’t to fly,

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

On the curled clouds, to thy strong bidding task

Ariel and all his quality.

PROSPERO

Hast thou, spirit,

Performed to point the tempest that I bade thee?

ARIEL

To every article.

I boarded the King’s ship. Now on the beak,

Now in the waste, the deck, in every cabin,

I flamed amazement. Sometime I’d divide,

And burn in many places; on the top-mast,

The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly;

Then meet and join. Jove’s lightning, the precursors

O’th’ dreadful thunderclaps, more momentary

And sight-outrunning were not. The fire and cracks

Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune

Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,

Yea, his dread trident shake.

PROSPERO

My brave spirit!

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil

Would not infect his reason?

ARIEL

Not a soul

But felt a fever of the mad, and played

Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners

Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,

Then all afire with me. The King’s son Ferdinand,

With hair upstaring—then like reeds, not hair—

Was the first man that leaped; cried ‘Hell is empty,

And all the devils are here’.

PROSPERO

Why, that’s my spirit!

But was not this nigh shore?

ARIEL

Close by, my master.

PROSPERO

But are they, Ariel, safe?

ARIEL

Not a hair perished.

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,

But fresher than before. And, as thou bad’st me,

In troops I have dispersed them ’bout the isle.

The King’s son have I landed by himself,

Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs

In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,

His arms in this sad knot.

PROSPERO

Of the King’s ship,

The mariners, say how thou hast disposed,

And all the rest o’th’ fleet.