Ferd. Sir, she’s mortal;
But by immortal Providence she’s mine:
I chose her when I could not ask my father
For his advice, nor thought I had one. She
Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan,
Of whom so often I have heard renown,
But never saw before; of whom I have
Received a second life; and second father
This lady makes him to me.[460-41]
Alon. I am hers:
But, O, how oddly will it sound that I
Must ask my child forgiveness!
Pros. There, sir, stop:
Let us not burden our remembrance with
A heaviness that’s gone.
Gonza. I’ve inly wept,
Or should have spoke ere this.—Look down, you gods,
And on this couple drop a blessed crown!
For it is you that have chalk’d forth the way
Which brought us hither.
Alon. I say, Amen, Gonzalo!
Gonza. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue
Should become Kings of Naples! O, rejoice
Beyond a common joy! and set it down
With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage
Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis;
And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife
Where he himself was lost; Prospero, his dukedom,
In a poor isle; and all of us, ourselves,
When no man was his own.[462-42]
Alon. [To Ferd. and Mira.] Give me your hands:
Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart
That doth not wish you joy!
Gonza. Be’t so! Amen!—