The island sounds with far-off surf.

MIRANDA: If by your art, my dearest father, you have put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
PROSPERO: Be collected. No harm is done.
MIRANDA: O, the day!
PROSPERO: The hour is come. Canst thou remember a time before we came unto this cell?
MIRANDA: Certainly, sir, I can.
PROSPERO: Twelve years since, Miranda, 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.
ARIEL: All hail, great master. Grave sir, hail. I come to answer thy best pleasure.
