No harm./ I have done nothing but in care of thee-/ Of thee, my dear one, thee my daughter - who/ Art ignorant of what thou art... that I am more better/ Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,/ And thy no greater father.
1 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 23-25)
Lend thy hand,/ And pluck my magic garment from me. So,/ Lie there, my art.
2 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 53-55)
Twelve year since,/ Thy father was the Duke of Milan and/ A prince of power.
3 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 66-78)
My brother and thy uncle, called Antonio-/ I pray thee mark me, that a brother should/ Be so perfidious... The government I cast upon my brother,/ And to my state grew stranger, being transported/ And rapt in secret studies.
4 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 83-87)
Having both the key/ Of officer and office, set all hearts i'th'state/ To what tune pleased his ear, that now he was/ The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,/ And sucked my verdure out on't.
5 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 152-155)
O, a cherubin/ Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile,/ Infused with a fortitude from heaven,/ When I have decked the sea with drops full salt... which raised in me/ An undergoing stomach to bear up/ Against what should ensue.
6 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc.2, ll. 165-168)
So of his gentleness,/ Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me/ From mine own library with volumes that/ I prize above my dukedom.
Approach, my Ariel! Come!... My brave spirit!... Why, that's my spirit!... Ariel thy charge/ Exactly is performed... Spirit, fine spirit, I'll free thee/ Within two days for this.
8 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 257-259)
Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot/ The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy/ Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her?
9 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 269-274)
This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child... Thou my slave,/ As thou report'st thyself, was then her servant;/ And for thou wast a spirit too delicate/ To act her earthy and abhorred commands,/ Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee.
10 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 281-286)
Then was this island-/ Save for the son that she did litter here,/ A freckled whelp, hag-born - not honoured with/ A human shape... Dull thing, I say so - he, that Caliban/ Whom now I keep in service.
11 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 294-296)
If thou murmur'st, I will rend an oak/ And peg thee in his knotty entrails till/ Thou hast howled away twelve winters.
12 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 319-320)
Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself/ Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!
13 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 345-348)
I have used thee,/ Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee/ In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate/ The honour of my child.
14 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 412-416)
No, wench, it eats and sleeps, and hath such senses/ As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest/ Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stained/ With grief... thou mightst call him/ A goodly person.
15 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 461-464)
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together;/ Sea water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be/ The fresh-brook mussels, withered roots, and husks/ Wherein acorn cradled. Follow.
16 of 17
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 478-481)
Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,/ Having seen but him and Caliban. Foolish wench,/ To th'most of men this is a Caliban,/ And they to him are angels.
17 of 17
Other cards in this set
Card 2
Front
Lend thy hand,/ And pluck my magic garment from me. So,/ Lie there, my art.
Back
Prospero (Act 1, Sc. 2, ll. 23-25)
Card 3
Front
Twelve year since,/ Thy father was the Duke of Milan and/ A prince of power.
Back
Card 4
Front
My brother and thy uncle, called Antonio-/ I pray thee mark me, that a brother should/ Be so perfidious... The government I cast upon my brother,/ And to my state grew stranger, being transported/ And rapt in secret studies.
Back
Card 5
Front
Having both the key/ Of officer and office, set all hearts i'th'state/ To what tune pleased his ear, that now he was/ The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,/ And sucked my verdure out on't.
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