PROSPERO Mark his condition and the event;then tell me If this might be a brother. MIRANDA I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons. PROSPERO Now the condition. The King of Naples,being an enemy To me inveterate,hearkens my brother's suit; Which was,that he,in lieu o'the premises Of homage and I know not how much tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan With all the honours on my brother:whereon, A treacherous army levied,one midnight Fated to the purpose did Antonio open The gates of Milan,and,i'the dead of darkness, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self. MIRANDA 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. PROSPERO Hear a little further And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon's;without the which this story Were most impertinent. MIRANDA Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us? PROSPERO Well demanded,wench: My tale provokes that question.Dear,they durst not, So dear the love my people bore me,nor set A mark so bloody on the business,but With colours fairer painted their foul ends. In few,they hurried us aboard a bark, Bore us some leagues to sea;where they prepared A rotten carcass of a boat,not rigg'd, Nor tackle,sail,nor mast;the very ratsPROSPERO Mark his condition and the event; then tell me If this might be a brother. MIRANDA I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons. PROSPERO Now the condition. The King of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises Of homage and I know not how much tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan With all the honours on my brother: whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to the purpose did Antonio open The gates of Milan, and, i' the dead of darkness, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self. MIRANDA 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. PROSPERO Hear a little further And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon's; without the which this story Were most impertinent. MIRANDA Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us? PROSPERO Well demanded, wench: My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, So dear the love my people bore me, nor set A mark so bloody on the business, but With colours fairer painted their foul ends. In few, they hurried us aboard a bark, Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats