1 Full fathom five thy father lies.
2 The ditty does remember my drowned father.
3 Pity move my father To be inclined my way.
4 Your father's in some passion That works him strongly.
5 My father's of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech.
6 So rare a wondered father and a wise Makes this place paradise.
7 And thy father Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir And princess no worse issued.
8 O dear father, Make not too rash a trial of him, for He's gentle and not fearful.
9 But I prattle Something too wildly, and my father's precepts I therein do forget.
10 Nor have I seen More that I may call men than you, good friend, And my dear father.
11 If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
12 O, she is Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed, And he's composed of harshness.
13 Myself am Naples, Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld The King my father wracked.
14 Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, Thy father was the Duke of Milan and A prince of power.
15 Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the King my father's wrack, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air.
16 My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, The wrack of all my friends, nor this man's threats To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid.
17 I have done nothing but in care of thee, Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who Art ignorant of what thou art, naught knowing Of whence I am, nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father.
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