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; that, at least, I ought to say."

"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?"

"A maiden, sir. And you, you are a man?
– I'm sure my wonder must seem foolish, only,
I know none but my father... and, I fear,
it's he who had you brought to us so roughly,
which merits true apologies indeed.

...Though I myself had naught to do with it."

"Are the only souls here the pair of you?
Were you stranded by shipwreck here like me?

Aside: She thinks her father mighty; all girls do.
But if he be, why can't he sail free?

To live here, is there rain or spring or dew?
For I must beg your hospitality."

"Oh, yes, indeed we're very near to home;
my father – well, toward you he bears no grudge...

...He'll welcome you, most likely, and if not
you'll be no worse for asking."

She turns and beckons him to follow.

"As for us,
the tale of how we came here is a long one,
and I knew little of it, till at last
my father told me, just today. But no,
we're not alone here; since we first were cast

upon these shores, I've grown among companions:
spirits I have known and, most of all,
Alariel and Caliban my friends.
– And you, sir, might I learn what you are called?"

"My name is Ferdinand; may I ask yours?
That I may better thank you for your aid.

Aside: Spirits for friends? To find such strange new shores!
I've no choice but to trust this queer fair maid.
As sailor clings to flotsam in the roil.

He follows. Pray, lead on, that I may tread your home soil."

"Oh! I'm Mimi."

Enter Prospero.

"Father. I have found
this stranger to our shores; we come to you
in hopes you'll make him welcome."

"Is it so?
You there, sir, what do you here? Speak true."

"I come a stranger, uninvited, for
My landing was not of my own design. 
Storm struck my ship and only I remain.
What do I here? I know not. Mourn the lost?"

Almost speaks, catches herself; casts a troubled glance at Prospero.

"It may be that the others yet survive.
By some strange art, are you not still alive?"

"You say this meeting's no design of yours?
A likely claim; I say it is a lie.
No doubt you’ve come on purpose to my home
to work against me, snake-like, as a spy.
Can you deny it, daughter?"

"Oh, I can;
he seems to me to be an honest man."

"None would dare accuse me in my homeland,
For I am prince - king, perhaps - of Naples.
What need has Naples for your humble home?"

Raises a hand; Ferdinand is charmed from moving.

"Your words are less than wind. I’m of a mind
to make a servant of you; I have shown
that by my magic, you have little choice.
Resign yourself to shackles."

"Father, no!
I told him he’d be none the worse for asking;
you’d make of me a liar?"

Aside:
"This is good.
They seem not ill-disposed toward one another;
But even were my heart made out of wood,
It would be wiser, now, to give them time.
So let her be his savior; and they, mine."

"What art is this? My limbs hang idle; slack.
This rude welcome earns enmity I'd lack'd.

(I'd thought myself bereft of all before.
What else remains of mine that can depart?
My eyes are drawn to Mimi; I've lost more:
For her defiant defense steals my heart.)"

"Though little weight I give to what you say,
my daughter’s plea I cannot fail to heed."

Aside:
"My daughter has a woman’s hesitance:
in her, a virtue. But, I do concede,
if I’m to give this plan a chance to work,
I’d best not rush them overmuch."

Waves a hand; Ferdinand is released from the spell.

"And so.
I free you from my hold, with no harm done.
Now fly from here; I care not where you go."

Turns as though leaving, but instead conceals himself and listens.

Approaches, speaks low.

"I’ve led you wrong; I find my father’s manner
strange; and though his acts were most unjust,
there is another place that we might go,
if in my guidance you’ve not lost all trust."

"What choice have I except to trust again?
No, I will gladly place in you my faith. 
Your father's actions are not yours; no blame
Rests with you for expecting more of him.
Pray, show me where else I may lay my head."

"Then come with me; a fairer path we'll tread."

Exeunt.

ACT 2

SCENE 1. On a shoreline with woods in the background and a large chest center stage.

"What country is this, and what should I do?
What people and perils lurk here, unknown?
Our ship - my brother! has sunk with its crew
Leaving me without kin or chaperone.

'Tis yet more danger to be stranded maid.
My brother's chest has buoyed me to this bay.
Let its contents disguise me as his shade
And swallow up my feminine array."

Enter Caliban.

"Aha! You, sir, you're one of those who fell
from off your ship, conveyed here on the swell?"

"By god, the fright, you half scared me to death!
(Were I less swift, they'd have caught me undress'd!
They call me sir, the die is cast, and so:)
What is your name? Call me Cesario.

Do all who live here share features like yours?
You say 'one of'; you imply there are more?
Did others land here when the tide did turn?
Forgive my questions out of grave concern."

"No, no, my features grace my form alone;
there's others, here, quite normal to your eye.
I'm Caliban. And yes, from off your ship
two more were swept – but lay your worries by:

They’ve safely come to shore, some distance hence;
and more than that, the ship itself is whole.
It carries onward, lighter now, but sound.
No doubt, your swift return must be your goal?"

"They live! Your words are balm unto my fears.
If they be safe, them we need not make haste.
Has this island been home to you for years?"

"Why, all my life! It is no dreadful place.

(Though, truly, I do hope to leave it soon....)
If you're in no exceeding rush, I may
reveal to you some portion of its wonders,
its dazzle-brooks and song-glades, on the way –

the way, that is, to where we'll find the action.
I fear that you've been caught in a design
that's naught to do with you, nor with your ship;
and I would be there at the crucial time."

"Caliban, lay on, and at whatever pace,
You judge needful to make our rendezvous
But show me all the wonders of this place
That time permits; for such chances are few."

"Cesario, but follow where I lead.
Our course shall be a wondrous one, indeed."

Exeunt.

"Although my stars shine darkly over me, 
They are eclipsed by your fine company. 
Antonio, to you I owe a debt
Beyond what any wordsmith could express."

"Speak not of debt, Sebastian, my friend."

"My voyage was mere extravagancy
No destination I could reach compares
Against the joy of travelling with thee."

"If you will not murder me for my love
Let me be your servant wher'er we go."

Enter Alariel, invisible.

"'Antonio', he calls him; he, in turn,
replies 'Sebastian'. I have found my mark,
I see. He's younger than I might have guessed;
but then, two brothers may be years apart."

Sings.

"Hark, the breezes whisper soft
past the spirals of your ears;
how a scent does sweetly waft;
through the trees, a trail appears.
Now return, by hill and hollow,
to your master; follow, follow."

"Look here! A way winds in between the trees. 
Let's follow it, for fruit or spring or game."

"What is that lump that lies before us there?
A pig? But no, it reposes clothed.
A person, and his face is one I know:
Alonso, King of Naples!"

"Here alone? 
We ought to wake the sleeping king."

"Hold on. 
The two of us are enemies of old."

"He says it plain. My master bid me here
to give these men a chance to work some ill,
but foil them before the king is harmed,
so that his mind with honest doubts might fill.

The one seems less than eager to attack.
Perhaps his friend will sway him to the act?"

"The heavens must have ill designs in store
For you and I alike, although your fate
May be one I can forestall, as you mine.
My family name's respected; what's it worth
If I can't plead your case before the king
The two of you to reconcile in peace?"

"You're bold, my friend, but I must have my doubts. 
Then again, he's alone, no sturdy guards
To cut me down should your peace-making fail.
Rouse him and speak, if you be committed."

"How curious. Then, is my master wrong?
Their hearts seem free of scheming or unrest,
and I am loath to introduce the seeds
if they’ve not rooted yet. Well, one more test."

Sings.

"Ponder on your worldly state;
think of all you do and hold.
Would your future and your fate
make a worthy tale, if told?
Dream, now, of this life’s rewards.
Will they satisfy, my lords?"

"I've fought, and sailed, and won much on the waves.
But no prize seized by filed steel compares
To having saved my companion most dear."

"Myself, I look inwards and find regrets
So much in my life that remains undone.
My sister unburied, no wife, no heir.
Will my ancestors' line finish with me?
Such a waste, to squander their storied deeds.

No, we live on through actions that resound.
Let me protect you and share your future."

Enter Sebastian and Antonio.

"What's this? Two robbers accosting the king!
To plunder his crown and prise off his ring?
Away with you, brigands, fly from my sword!"

"Reconciliation must wait a day. 
We run, my friend, back down the path, away!"

Exeunt Sebastian and Antonio

"What ho? Who are these rogues that flee the scene?"

To Sebastian:

"Perhaps you ought have let the bandits stay.
When falls the king's head, off it comes the crown. 
Consider who remains to pick it up:
Fernando, dead, his sister, wed, and you.
Too late now but chance may visit again."

"What stuff is this? What of your conscience?
Speak not of this when sovereign ears may hear.
Wait for a wiser hour for your counsel.

Your majesty, we secured your repose
From assailants unknown, who have since fled."

"Your loyal defense I shall remember.
Now let us search this island for mine heir."

"What’s this? Here, these are schemers through and through;
they speak as though those men who ran just now
are strangers to them all. Did I mistake
their names? – Or no; oh, no; I see now, how....

By storm and sea! My errors do compound.
First, I let that ship escape my glance;
and now, I have allowed those from its decks
To fox me so – and this by purest chance.

I’ve no doubt that deceit was not their aim.
Hag’s feet! Why must their names be just the same?"

Exit.

SCENE 3. The entrance to a cave. Spread out along most surfaces are miniature buildings, fashioned from such various materials as twigs, seaweed, leaves, scraps of fabric, and seashells. They are of many differing styles and constructions: tall, or sprawling, or made of solid stone, or airy enough to sway in the occasional breeze; those nearest the entrance and outside it are somewhat storm-tattered. A path leads through them, and enough clear space is left for mortal beings of human size. Above those buildings that cling to the cave’s walls are shelves, holding small models of creatures and other things.

Enter Mimi and Ferdinand.

"There’s food and water here, and such small comforts
as I have gathered. No wood, more’s the pity,
to lay a fire; but then, it’s warm enough
to make no matter."

Gestures at their surroundings, ducking her head.

"…Please, don’t mind the city."