_Mir._ Ah, Ferdinand! can you become inconstant? If I must lose you, I had rather death Should take you from me, than you take yourself. _Ferd._ And if I might have chose, I would have wished That death from Prospero, and not this from you. _Dor._ Ay, now I find why I was sent away, That you might have my sister's company. _Hip._ Dorinda, kill me not with your unkindness; This is too much, first to be false yourself, And then accuse me too. _Ferd._ We all accuse Each other, and each one denies their guilt: I should be glad it were a mutual error; And, therefore, first to clear myself from fault, Madam, I beg your pardon, while I say, I only love your sister. [_To_ DOR. _Mir._ O, blest word! I'm sure I love no man but Ferdinand, _Dor._ Nor I, heaven knows, but my Hippolito. _Hip._ I never knew I loved so much, before I feared Dorinda's constancy; but now I am convinced, that I loved none but her; Because none else can recompense her loss. _Ferd._ 'Twas happy, then, we had this little trial; But how we all so much mistook I know not. _Mir._ I have only this to say in my defence; My father sent me hither, to attend The wounded stranger. _Dor._ And Hippolito Sent me to beg the life of Ferdinand. _Ferd._ From such small errors, left at first unheeded, Have often sprung sad accidents in love.-- But see, our fathers and our friends are come To mix their joys with ours. _Enter_ PROSPERO, ALONZO, ANTONIO, _and_ GONZALO. _Alon._ to _Prosp._ Let it no more be thought of; Your purpose, though it was severe, was just. In losing Ferdinand, I should have mourned, But could not have complained. _Pros._ Sir, I am glad Kind heaven decreed it otherwise. _Dor._ O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! _Hip._ O, brave new world, That has such people in't! _Alon._ to _Ferd._ Now all the blessings Of a glad father compass thee about, And make thee happy in thy beauteous choice. _Gonz._ I've inward wept, or should have spoken ere this.-- Look down, sweet heaven! and on this couple drop A blessed crown; for it is you chalked out The way, which brought us hither. _Anto._ Though penitence, Forced by necessity, can scarce seem real, Yet, dearest brother, I have hope my blood May plead for pardon with you: I resign Dominion, which, 'tis true, I could not keep, But heaven knows too, I would not. _Prosp._ All past crimes I bury in the joy of this blessed day. _Alon._ And, that I may not be behind in justice, To this young prince I render back his dukedom, And as the duke of Mantua thus salute him. _Hip._ What is it that you render back? methinks You give me nothing. _Prosp._ You are to be lord Of a great people, and o'er towns and cities. _Hip._ And shall these people be all men and women?