Wonder and amazement, continued (5.1.148-162) #StormTossed

ALONSO                                                         A daughter?

O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,

The king and queen there! That they were, I wish

Myself were mudded in that oozy bed

Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?

PROSPERO     In this last tempest. –I perceive these lords

At this encounter do so much admire

That they devour their reason and scarce think

Their eyes do offices of truth, their words

Are natural breath. –But howsoe’er you have

Been jostled from your senses, know for certain

That I am Prospero and that very duke

Which was thrust forth of Milan, who most strangely

Upon this shore where you were wrecked, was landed

To be the lord on’t. (5.1.148-162)

 

It must be satisfying to Prospero that Alonso the King jumps to exactly the same conclusion, the desirability of a match between their children, who are (alas) apparently both lost. (Winter’s Tale is similarly resolved by a marriage between the children of former enemies, Florizel and Perdita, their names not unanalogous to Ferdinand and Miranda.) But Alonso is still in deep despair about his son, entirely understandably: I’d give my life in exchange for them now being queen and king together in Naples – and he imagines himself mudded, asleep in death at the bottom of the sea, that oozy bed, where Ariel had so vividly depicted him, full fathom five. Having discovered this coincidence of parental loss, he is immediately sympathetic to Prospero: when did you lose your daughter? And Prospero is almost dismissive in his response, in this last tempest, although there could be a pause of fellow-feeling after, as well as renewed confusion; what, in the storm today? A matter of hours ago? And you’re here, capable of speech and reason? Another cause for wonder and amazement. But Prospero moves on, in control again, to comment on the state of the rest of the company, these lords, who are standing, open-mouthed (in order to devour their reason, presumably), not sure what to think or believe. On the evidence of his choice of verb, Prospero is indeed thinking intently of Miranda, for he describes the lords as admiring, wondering, amazed at this encounter, unable to believe the evidence of their eyes, or that what they are saying, and hearing, is ordinary, day to day language. Everyone is amazed! Filled with wonder! So Prospero repeats himself, to reassure: no matter how confused you are, know that it’s really me, Prospero, the deposed duke of Milan. And yes – amazingly! miraculously! – I too ended up here, on this shore where you were wrecked. This is where I have lived. This is where I have ruled.

 

 

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