A tale to cure deafness? (lots more still to come in the Longest Exposition Ever) (1.2.97-106) #StormTossed

PROSPERO                                         He being thus lorded, Not only with what my revenue yielded But what my power might else exact, like one Who, having into truth by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory To credit his own lie, he did believe He was indeed the duke, out o’th’ substitution And executing th’outward […]

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Foul play! and, blessings (1.2.59-65) #StormTossed

MIRANDA                                          O, the heavens! What foul play had we that we came from thence? Or blessed wast we did? PROSPERO                                         Both, both, my girl. By foul play, as thou sayst, were we heaved thence, But blessedly holp hither. MIRANDA                                                      O, my heart bleeds To think o’th’ teen that I have turned you to, Which is […]

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Twelve years ago… (1.2.53-9) #StormTossed

PROSPERO     Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, Thy father was the Duke of Milan and A prince of power. MIRANDA                                          Sir, are not you my father? PROSPERO     Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir And princess, […]

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Time, memory, prisons, and truth (1.2.42-52) #StormTossed

PROSPERO     By what? By any other house or person? Of any thing the image, tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance. MIRANDA                                                      ’Tis far off, And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants. Had I not Four or five women once, that tended me? PROSPERO     Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. […]

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The hour’s now come (1.2.33-41) #StormTossed

MIRANDA                                          You have often Begun to tell me what I am, but stopped And left me to a bootless inquisition, Concluding, ‘Stay, not yet’. PROSPERO                                         The hour’s now come; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear. Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time before we came unto this cell? I do not […]

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’Tis (almost) time for a very long exposition (1.2.16-23) #StormTossed

PROSPERO     I have done nothing but in care of thee, Of thee, my dear one, thee my daughter, who Art ignorant of what thou art, naught knowing Of whence I am, nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father. MIRANDA                                                      More to know Did […]

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