FERDINAND                                       My language? Heavens!

I am the best of them that speak this speech,

Were I but where ’tis spoken.

PROSPERO                                                     How? The best?

What wert thou if the King of Naples heard thee?

FERDINAND   A single thing, as I am now, that wonders

To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me,

And that he does, I weep. Myself am Naples,

Who, with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld

The King my father wrecked.

MIRANDA                                                      Alack, for mercy!

FERDINAND   Yes, faith, and all his lords—the Duke of Milan

And his brave son being twain. (1.2.429-439)

This is a nice joke that might be overlooked in performance: there may be (invisible) spirits and monsters and storms raised by magic and mysterious music, but the most amazing thing is this coincidence that Ferdinand can understand what Miranda’s saying, they speak the same language, and—despite the fact that it’s the language of Naples—this London audience can all understand them perfectly too… The idea of the ‘King’s English’ was certainly current at this time (Shakespeare uses the phrase in Merry Wives of Windsor; other Elizabethan writers refer to the Queen’s English) – and here there’s a similar identification implicitly being made between monarch and language: I am the best of them that speak this speech, if only I were in the place to which this language is native. And here Prospero intervenes, allowing Ferdinand (mistakenly) to identify himself. You can’t be the best, the most noble of those who speak that language – that would be the King of Naples. That’s me, says Ferdinand, myself am Naples, the King and I are one and the same, a single thing (also an unmarried thing, glancing at Miranda, in case she’s now wondering about that). And when I hear myself say that, that I am the King of Naples, I weep. I’ve been weeping, my eyes full of tears, at high tide (never since at ebb, low tide) ever since I saw the King my father wrecked. Miranda, of course, is moved to pity: alack, for mercy! And Ferdinand adds more: it wasn’t just my father the King, it was all his lords, including the Duke of Milan and his brave son. All drowned. (The brave son of the Duke of Milan – that is Antonio – is a loose end; he doesn’t appear in 1.1 and is never mentioned again. Oops.)