If thou rememb’rest aught ere thou cam’st here, That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else He doesn't expect her to, since she was not even three when they did.Īnd rather like a dream than an assurance He promises to finish this time, and ask Miranda if she remembers anything of their lives before they came to the island. I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not 50Īpparently, Prospero has started telling this tale to Miranda before but never finished. He again assures her no one on the ship was hurt and then says they should probably sit down for this. Miranda never realized there was more to know about who they were, but Prospero says the storm is a good occasion for him to finally reveal their family secret to her. Which thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st sink. I have with such provision in mine art 35 The direful spectacle of the wrack, which touched He assures his daughter that everyone from the ship is safe, and that he only did it for her, which she would understand if she knew who he really was-and, for that matter, who she really is. Prospero doesn't deny he made the tempest, but instead says there was no harm done. Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, Of whence I am, nor that I am more better Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who 20Īrt ignorant of what thou art, naught knowing (Psst! If you check out the character list, you'll see that Prospero is the former Duke of Milan-a position now held by his brother, Antonio.who just happens to be on the wrecked ship.) Miranda saw the ship sink and asks her father if he created the storm, cluing us in to the fact that Prospero has powerful magic, which they both call "art." The action moves to an island, where we meet Prospero and his daughter, Miranda. It should the good ship so have swallowed, and Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere O, the cry did knockĪgainst my very heart! Poor souls, they perished. Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,ĭashed all to pieces. With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel, The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,īut that the sea, mounting to th’ welkin’s cheek,ĭashes the fire out. Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. If by your art, my dearest father, you have
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