Prospero
Be collected:
No more amazement: tell your piteous heart
There’s no harm done.
Miranda
O, woe the day!
Prospero
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, nought knowing
Of whence I am, nor that I am more better
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
And thy no greater father.
Miranda
More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.