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2 (Who had no doubt ſome noble creature in her) Daſh'd all to peeces: O the cry did knocke Againſt my very heart: poore ſoules, they periſh'd. Had I byn any God of power, I would Haue ſuncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere It ſhould the good Ship ſo haue ſwallow'd, and The fraughting Soules within her.

Proſ. Be collected, No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart there's no harme done.

Mira. O woe, the day.

Proſ. No harme: I haue done nothing, but in care of thee (Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who Art ignorant of what thou art. naught knowing Of whence I am: nor that I am more better Then Proſpero, Maſter of a full poore cell, And thy no greater Father.

Mira. More to know Did neuer medle with my thoughts.

Proſ. 'Tis time I ſhould informe thee farther: Lend thy hand And plucke my Magick garment from me: So, Lye there my Art: wipe thou thine eyes, haue comfort, The direfull ſpectacle of the wracke which touch'd The very vertue of compaſſion in thee: I haue with ſuch prouiſion in mine Art So ſafely ordered, that there is no ſoule No not ſo much perdition as an hayre Betid to any creature in the veſſell Which thou heardſt cry, which thou ſaw'ſt ſinke: Sit For thou muſt now know farther.

Mira. You haue often Begun to tell me what I am, but ſtopt And left me to a booteleſſe Inquiſition, Concluding, ſtay: not yet.

Proſ. The howr's now come The very minute byds thee ope thine eare, Obey, and be attentive. Canſt thou remember A time before we came vnto this Cell? I doe not thinke thou canſt, for then thou was't not Out three yeeres old.

Mira. Certainely Sir, I can.

Proſ. By what? by any other houſe, or perſon? Of any thing the Image, tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance.

Mira. 'Tis farre oft: And rather like a dreame, then an aſſurance That my remembrance warrants: Had I not Fowre, or fiue women once, that tended me?

Proſ. Thou hadſt; and more Miranda: But how is it That this liues in thy minde ? What ſeeſt thou els In the dark-backward and Abiſme of Time? Yf thou remembreſt ought ere thou cam'ſt here, How thou cam'ſt here thou maiſt.

Mira. But that I doe not.

Proſ. Twelue yere ſince (Miranda) twelue yere ſince, Thy father was the Duke of Millaine and A Prince of power:

Mira. Sir, are not you my Father?

Proſ. Thy Mother was a peece of vertue, and She ſaid thou waſt my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Millaine, and his onely heire, And Princeſſe; no worſe Iſſued.

Mira. O the heauens, What fowle play had we, that we came from thence? Or bleſſed was't we did?

Proſ. Both, both my Girle. By fowle-play (as thou ſaiſt) were we heau'd thence, But bleſſedly holpe hither.

Mira. O my heart bleedes To thinke oth' teene that I haue turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance, pleaſe you, farther;

Proſ. My brother and thy vncle, call’d Anthonio: I pray thee marke me, that a brother ſhould Be ſo perfidious: he, whom next thy ſelfe Of all the world I lou'd, and to him put The mannage of my ſtate, as at that time Through all the ſignories it was the firſt, And Proſpero, the prime Duke, being ſo reputed In dignity; and for the liberall Artes, Without a paralell; thoſe being all my ſtudie, The Gouernment I caſt vpon my brother, And to my State grew ſtranger, being tranſported And rapt in ſecret studies, thy falſe vncle (Do'ſt thou attend me?)

Mira. Sir, moſt heedefully.

Proſ. Being once perfected how to graunt ſuites, how to deny them: who t'aduance, and who To traſh for ouer-topping; new created The creatures that were mine, I ſay, or chang'd 'em, Or els new form'd 'em; hauing both the key, Of Officer, and office, ſet all hearts i'th ſtate To what tune pleas'd his eare, that now he was The Iuy which had hid my princely Trunck, And ſuckt my verdure out on't: Thou attend'ſt not?

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'ſtthou 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