Speeches (Lines) for Miranda
in "Tempest"
Total: 50

1

I,2,85

If by your art, my dearest father, you have
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,
But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered
With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,
Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,
Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd.
Had I been any god of power, I would
Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere
It should the good ship so have swallow'd and
The fraughting souls within her.

2

I,2,101

O, woe the day!

3

I,2,109

More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.

4

I,2,124

You have often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd
And left me to a bootless inquisition,
Concluding 'Stay: not yet.'

5

I,2,134

Certainly, sir, I can.

6

I,2,138

'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?

7

I,2,147

But that I do not.

8

I,2,151

Sir, are not you my father?

9

I,2,156

O the heavens!
What foul play had we, that we came from thence?
Or blessed was't we did?

10

I,2,162

O, my heart bleeds
To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.

11

I,2,178

Sir, most heedfully.

12

I,2,188

O, good sir, I do.

13

I,2,208

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

14

I,2,219

O the heavens!

15

I,2,222

I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother:
Good wombs have borne bad sons.

16

I,2,238

Alack, for pity!
I, not remembering how I cried out then,
Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint
That wrings mine eyes to't.

17

I,2,246

Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?

18

I,2,261

Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you!

19

I,2,270

How came we ashore?

20

I,2,281

Would I might
But ever see that man!

21

I,2,290

Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir,
For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason
For raising this sea-storm?

22

I,2,448

The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

23

I,2,453

'Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.

24

I,2,504

Abhorred slave,
Which any print of goodness wilt not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known. But thy vile race,
Though thou didst learn, had that in't which
good natures
Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confined into this rock,
Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

25

I,2,574

What is't? a spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.

26

I,2,583

I might call him
A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

27

I,2,596

No wonder, sir;
But certainly a maid.

28

I,2,608

Alack, for mercy!

29

I,2,619

Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first
That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclined my way!

30

I,2,638

There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:
If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with't.

31

I,2,651

O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle and not fearful.

32

I,2,660

Beseech you, father.

33

I,2,662

Sir, have pity;
I'll be his surety.

34

I,2,671

My affections
Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

35

I,2,694

Be of comfort;
My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
Which now came from him.

36

III,1,1294

Alas, now, pray you,
Work not so hard: I would the lightning had
Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile!
Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns,
'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father
Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;
He's safe for these three hours.

37

III,1,1304

If you'll sit down,
I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that;
I'll carry it to the pile.

38

III,1,1311

It would become me
As well as it does you: and I should do it
With much more ease; for my good will is to it,
And yours it is against.

39

III,1,1317

You look wearily.

40

III,1,1322

Miranda.—O my father,
I have broke your hest to say so!

41

III,1,1336

I do not know
One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen
More that I may call men than you, good friend,
And my dear father: how features are abroad,
I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you,
Nor can imagination form a shape,
Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle
Something too wildly and my father's precepts
I therein do forget.

42

III,1,1357

Do you love me?

43

III,1,1364

I am a fool
To weep at what I am glad of.

44

III,1,1370

At mine unworthiness that dare not offer
What I desire to give, and much less take
What I shall die to want. But this is trifling;
And all the more it seeks to hide itself,
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning!
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!
I am your wife, it you will marry me;
If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow
You may deny me; but I'll be your servant,
Whether you will or no.

45

III,1,1382

My husband, then?

46

III,1,1385

And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewell
Till half an hour hence.

47

IV,1,1875

Never till this day
Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd.

48

V,1,2218

Sweet lord, you play me false.

49

V,1,2221

Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,
And I would call it, fair play.

50

V,1,2233

O, wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has such people in't!