_Another part of the same._
[_Enter_ PROSPERO.
PROSPERO. My charms yet hold, though long disus’d, for I
Pitying Miranda’s melancholy plight
By magic of mine art have hither brought
Duke Ferdinand and her that so the twain
Belov’d may live their first joys o’er again.
Here shall they speed the time a full month’s space,
In such wise as they list, and then, at whiles,
Will I for their beguilement cause to pass
Before their eyes, when they shall sit at ease,
Weary of wandering o’er the mazy isle,
Figures of men and women, such, forsooth,
As Master Shakescene writ of in his plays.
These in their habit as they liv’d in those
Same plays I’ll re-create for their delight,
Peopling a mimic world with mimic folk,
And making so this desert populous.
[_Exit._