MIRANDA.
More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.

PROSPERO.
'Tis time
I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magic garment from me.--So:

[Lays down his mantle]

Lie there my art.--Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.
The direful spectacle of the wrack, which touch'd
The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely ordered that there is no soul--
No, not so much perdition as an hair
Betid to any creature in the vessel
Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down;
For thou must now know farther.

MIRANDA.
You have often
Begun to tell me what I am: but stopp'd,
And left me to a bootless inquisition,
Concluding 'Stay; not yet.'

PROSPERO.
The hour's now come,