When Prospero spoke to Gonzalo, and called him the preserver of his life, Antonio knew this old man must be his own much-injured brother, and he began to implore his pardon with many tears; the king also asked forgiveness for the part he had taken against him.
Prospero assured them that he freely forgave all; and, opening a door, he showed them Ferdinand, who was engaged in a game of chess with Miranda. What joy was this to the father and son, both of whom believed the other had been lost in the storm!
The king of Naples was astonished at the beauty of Miranda. “Is this a goddess” he asked, “who parted us that she might bring us together?”
“Not a goddess,” answered Ferdinand, smiling. “A fair maiden, whom I have asked to be my bride. She is the daughter of the duke of Milan, who, in giving her to me, has made himself my second father.”
“Then I must be her father,” said the king. “And, first, I must ask her forgiveness.”
“Not so,” interrupted Prospero; “let us rather forget the past and think only of the happy present.” And then, embracing his brother, he declared that all his troubles had been overruled by Providence; as, but for their meeting on the desert island, perhaps Ferdinand would never have known and loved Miranda.
The ship was safe in harbor, the sailors were on board, and the whole company intended to depart together in the morning; but for that last evening they partook of some refreshments in the cavern, which was so soon now to be deserted, while Prospero gave them the story of his adventures.
Before he left the island he dismissed Ariel from his service, to the joy of the active sprite, who loved liberty above all else. “But, master, I shall attend your passage home, and get for you prosperous winds; and then how merrily I’ll live.” And at this Ariel broke into a sweet song, which went like this:—
“Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
In a cowslip’s bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat’s back I do fly
After summer merrily:
Merrily, merrily shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.”
Prospero’s last act was to bury all his magical books and his wand; for he meant to have nothing more to do with the art, but to spend the rest of his life in his native land, watching over the welfare of his people, and at peace with all the world.