Canst thou remember a time before we came unto this cell? I do not think thou canst, for...

Prospera: Canst thou remember a time before we came unto this cell? I do not think thou canst, for then thou was not out three years old.
Miranda: Certainly, ma'am, I can.
Prospera: By what? By any other house or person? Of anything the image tell me that hath kept with thy remembrance.
Miranda: 'Tis far off and rather like a dream. Had I not four or five women once that tended me?
Prospera: Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. Twelve years since, Miranda, twelve years since, thy mother held the dukedom of Milan and its princely power.
Miranda: But are not you my mother?
Prospera: The very same. Who, long ago, was wife to him who ruled Milan most liberally. Who, with as tolerant a hand toward me, gave license to my long hours in pursuit of hidden truths, of coiled powers contained within some elements to harm or heal. I brooked no interruption but your squalling, for thou, child, art a princess born.
Miranda: O heavens! What foul play had we that we came from thence?
Prospera: Upon thy father's death, authority was conferred, as was his will, to me alone, thereby awakening the ambition of my brother, and thy uncle, call'd Antonio. Thou attendest not!
Miranda: Good madam, I do.
Prospera: I pray thee, mark me, that a brother should be so perfidious! He whom I did charge to execute express commands as to the prudent governing of fair Milan, instead undid, subverted... dost thou attend me?
Miranda: Ma'am, most heedfully.
Prospera: Perverting my upstanding studies, now his slandering and bile-dipped brush did paint a faithless portrait. His sister, a practicer of the black arts! A demon, not a woman, nay, a witch! And he full knowing that others of my sex have burned for no less. The flames now fanned, my counselors turned against me. Dost thou hear?
Miranda: Your tale, ma'am, would cure deafness