Thy brother was a furtherer in the act.—

Thou art pinched for’t now, Sebastian.

(To Antonio) Flesh and blood,

You, brother mine, that entertained ambition,

Expelled remorse and nature, whom, with Sebastian—

Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,—

Would here have killed your king, I do forgive thee,

Unnatural though thou art. (Aside) 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.

I will disease me, and myself present

As I was sometime Milan. Quickly, spirit!

Thou shalt ere long be free.

Ariel sings and helps to attire him as Duke of Milan

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.

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.

He embraces Alonso

ALONSO

Whe’er thou beest 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 (to Gonzalo)

First, noble friend,

Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot

Be measured or confined.

He embraces Gonzalo

GONZALO

Whether this be

Or be not, I’ll not swear.

PROSPERO

You do yet taste

Some subtleties o’th’ 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 (to Antonio) The devil speaks in him.

PROSPERO No.

(To Antonio) 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 wrecked 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, these words

Are natural breath. But howsoe’er you have

Been jostled from your senses, know for certain

That I am Prospero, and that very Duke

Which was thrust forth of Milan, who most strangely,

Upon this shore where you were wrecked, was landed

To be the lord on’t. No more yet of this,

For ’tis a chronicle of day by day,

Not a relation for a breakfast, nor

Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir.