_Prosp._ I have so ordered, That not one creature in the ship is lost: I have done nothing but in care of thee, My daughter, and thy pretty sister: You both are ignorant of what you are, Not knowing whence I am, nor that I'm more Than Prospero, master of a narrow cell, And thy unhappy father. _Mir._ I ne'er endeavoured To know more than you were pleased to tell me. _Prosp._ I should inform thee farther. _Mir._ You often, sir, began to tell me what I am, But then you stopt. _Prosp._ The hour's now come; Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time, before we came into this cell? I do not think thou canst, for then thou wert not Full three years old. _Mir._ Certainly I can, sir. _Prosp._ Tell me the image then of any thing, Which thou dost keep in thy remembrance still. _Mir._ Sir, had I not four or five women once, that tended me? _Prosp._ Thou hadst, and more, Miranda: What seest thou else, In the dark back-ward, and abyss of time? If thou rememberest aught, ere thou cam'st here, Then how thou cam'st thou mayest remember too. _Mir._ Sir, that I do not. _Prosp._ Fifteen years since, Miranda, Thy father was the duke of Milan, and A prince of power. _Mir._ Sir, are not you my father? _Prosp._ Thy mother was all virtue, and she said Thou wast my daughter, and thy sister too. _Mir._ O heavens! what foul play had we, that We hither came? or was't a blessing that we did? _Prosp._ Both, both, my girl. _Mir._ But, sir, I pray, proceed. _Prosp._ My brother, and thy uncle, called Antonio, To whom I trusted then the manage of my state, While I was wrapped with secret studies,--that false uncle, Having attained the craft of granting suits, And of denying them; whom to advance, Or lop, for over-topping,--soon was grown The ivy, which did hide my princely trunk, And sucked my verdure out: Thou attend'st not. _Mir._ O good sir, I do. _Prosp._ I thus neglecting worldly ends, and bent To closeness, and the bettering of my mind, Waked in my false brother an evil nature: He did believe He was indeed the duke, because he then Did execute the outward face of sovereignty---- Do'st thou still mark me? _Mir._ Your story would cure deafness. _Prosp._ This false duke Needs would be absolute in Milan, and confederate With Savoy's duke, to give him tribute, and To do him homage. _Mir._ False man! _Prosp._ This duke of Savoy, being an enemy To me inveterate, strait grants my brother's suit; And on a night, mated to his design, Antonio opened the gates of Milan, and In the dead of darkness hurried me thence, With thy young sister, and thy crying self. _Mir._ But wherefore did they not that hour destroy us?