Act IV, Scene 3

Prospero:

I am mystified by the strength of love;

But time now hurries my words, and I know

Of its lack of sentimental esteem.

Honor your father even when I tug

Against your own heart’s essential desires.

No, forgive me: therein is the sole crux

Of awareness which I hope to give you.

Neither the rack of this cruel world, daughter,

Pitiless alike for kings, queens and slaves,

For priests, merchants, for scholars and actors,

Nor the luxury of all its ripe fruits,

Fruits as sweet for sower as reaper, plump

Upon the boughs of nature’s music, can

Ever diminish the morning glory

After agony in awakening

Each soul shall have unto its nothingness.

This is the purport of my sacred text.

In your innocence, heed me, my darling.

That awakening within self-darkness

Plants the seed for birth into holy light;

Only in the limits of despair can

The blink of the eye bring man to perceive

His Master in omniscient love’s wisdom.

Ah, you are tired of your pedantic sire.

Allow me to indulge, for a moment,

To express my too ripe thoughts.  Daughter, I

Live after the sting of death, loving you

In conditional sacrifice.  To be,

Miranda, afraid is witless; to know

That only by the perpetual breath

Of Our Lord God we live, allows me to act.

Without glimpses of the heights, depths and breadths

Of our souls in God, knowledge is futile.

In this meek study, with death but life’s veil,

The heart may live blessed in most generous

Gratefulness, the sea of our happiness . . .

                        Ariel slowly leads characters on stage

Where the light, whimsical and winged fairies

Flutter our dreams and disturb our selfish

Gropings in dust.  Yonder is Ariel;

Yet, daughter, know wisdom: not from this Puck

Am I ordained as the isle’s magistrate

But from He who wrenched your frivolous heart

To plead for mercy on your knees, with tears;

He, absolute, alone a pure soul fears.