Boatswain: "What do you here? Shall we give o'er and drown?"

"Hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker! We are less afraid to be drowned than thou."

"The king and prince at prayers! Let's assist them, for our case is as theirs."

Elsewhere, some small distance from the ship.

"Oh, what a storm!
– A work of potent magic; this has never
seemed to me a foreign thing, unknown.
My mother drew on sorcery as breath,
both fair and foul. Some of it, she taught
to me, her only child; and though she kept,
as well, a host of secrets, some of these
I found I could unravel, given time.
So now, though all my powers be no match
for he who holds me fettered to his will,
I know my world. These things are home and cradle:
the wind, the sea, the rain. With them I dance –
with them, and with my partner. To and fro
we sweep. Within the storm we move as one,
and all else in my mind is drowned by joy!"

"No sorcery for me, no human spells.
A spirit of the air am I. I weave
my self into the tempest; we are one.
The stormclouds and the lightning: these are mine,
well-harnessed to my aims. The power builds
and builds and builds within the clouds – then bursts,
and flashes out as lashing levin, fierce,
yet under my control. I guide it well.
It meets the sea-churn, very near the ship,
but far enough; I do not strike to kill.
The thunder follows, sure as night does day.
With care, I work together with my partner
to drive the ship to shore – it’s nearly there.
The glory of the storm begins to fade."

"We are merely cheated of our lives by drunks. Would thou swallow the waves like your foul grog!"

"Now would I give a thousand leagues of sea
For an an acre of barren ground, long heath,
brown furze, any thing. The wills above be done!
But I would fain die a dry death."

"And so. They are afeared, and no surprise;
in time, they’ll learn that all are safe – but what?
Another ship is near? This one was not
among the fleet; I see it now, at least."

"Well, and we shall turn its bow away,
with all on board –

"– except, I do remark,
for those who spilled, just now, into the sea.
For them we must account."

"...Ah. So we must.

"There’s nothing for it; I will bring them in
to land, as all the rest. Our grudging guests
shall soon be scattered all along the shoreline;
and we will see, then, how the plot plays out."

SCENE 2. The island

"Our ship storm-split, yet here on sand stand I,
Preserved by providence alone, preserved?
Yet what remains to me, prince of a waste,
My father and his lords five fathoms deep?

Not yet returned from losing my sister.
But she yet lives, now queen of fair Tunis.
What will she think, her family lost at sea?
Doubly alone, a parting redoubled. 

Sebastian, uncle, rests with the king.
All others will presume I share their fate.
Naples' throne will not stay vacant long.
Stripped of father, sister, uncle, birthright -
What good to me would any rescue be?"

Miranda steps hesitantly from behind the foliage.

"Is that a stranger's voice? – Oh. It is.
I beg your pardon, sir. I only – um.
...I greet you."

"My language! Heavens, here on distant shore.
A gift so sweet needs no apology.
I greet you too, fair maiden, and implore:
Were you the one to hear my storm-wracked plea?
Be you maiden, spirit, or something more?"