Awak'd an evil nature; and my truft,
Like a good parent, did beget of him

A falfhood in its contrary as great

As my truft was; which had, indeed, no limit,
A confidence fans bound. He being thus lorded,
Not only with what my Revenue yielded,
But what my power might elfe exact'; like one,
Who having, unto truth, by telling oft,
Made fuch a finner of his memory,

To credit his own lie, he did believe:

He was, indeed, the Duke; from fubftitution,
And executing th' outward face of royalty,

With all prerogative. Hence his ambition growing-
Doft thou hear?

Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafnefs.

Pro. To have no fcreen between this part he plaid, And him he plaid it for, he needs will be Abfolute Milan. Me, poor man!-my library Was Dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties He thinks me now incapable: confederates

(So dry he was for fway) wi' th' King of Naples

6.

like one

Who having INTO truth by telling of it,

Made fuch a Sinner of his memory,

To credit his own lie.] The corrupted reading of the Second line has rendered this beautiful Similitude quite unintelligible. For what is [having into truth]? or what doth [it] refer to? not to [truth], because if he told truth he could never credit a lie. And yet there is no other correlative to which [it] can belong.

I read and point it thus,

like one

Who baving, UNTO truth, by telling OFT,
Made fuch a Sinner of his memory,

To credit his own lie.

i.e. by often repeating the fame Story, made his memory fuch a Sinner unto truth as to give credit to his own lie. A miferable delufion to which Story-tellers are frequently fubject. The Oxford Editor having, by this Correction, been let into the -Senfe of the Paffage, gives us this Senfe in his own Words,

Who loving an untruth, and telling't oft,
Makes

To

To give him annual tribute, do him homage;
Subject his coronet to his crown; and bend

The Dukedom, yet unbow'd, (alas, poor Milan!)
To moft ignoble stooping.

Mira. O the heav'ns!

Pro. Mark his condition, and th' event; then tell me, If this might be a Brother?

Mira. I fhould fin,

To think but nobly of my grand-mother; 7 Good wombs have bore bad fons.

Pro. Now the condition:

This King of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearks my brother's fuit
Which was, that he in lieu o'th' premises,
Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,
Should prefently extirpate me and mine
Out of the Dukedom; and confer fair Milan,
With all the honours, on my brother. Whereon
A treacherous army levy'd, one mid-night
Fated to th' purpose, did Anthonio open

The gates of Milan; and, i'th' dead of darkness,
The minifters for the purpose hurry'd thence
Me, and thy crying felf.

Mira. Alack, for pity!

I, not remembring how I cry'd out then,

Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint,

That wrings mine eyes to't.

Pro. Hear a little further,

And then I'll bring thee to the prefent business, Which now's upon's; without the which this ftory Were most impertinent.

7 Good wombs have bore bad fons ] Mr. Theobald would give thefe words to Profpero, because Miranda, bred up in the defart Iland from her infancy, could not be fuppos'd to be furnished with fuch an obfervation from life. An idle reafon. Profpero tells us, he had educated her more carefully than ufual. Would he then fuffer her to be ignorant of the most common cafes in human life? Yet the Oxford Editor follows Mr. Theobald,

Mira. Why did they not

That hour destroy us?

Pro. Well demanded, wench;

My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durft not
(So dear the love my people bore me ;) set
A mark fo bloody on the bufinefs; but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurry'd us aboard á bark;
Bore us fome leagues to Sea; where they prepar'd
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, fail, nor maft; the very rats
Inftinctively had quit it: there they hoift us.
To cry to th' fea, that roar'd to us; to figh
To th' winds, whofe pity, fighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.

Mira. Alack ! what trouble

Was I then to you?

Pro. O! a cherubim

Thou waft, that did preferve me: Thou didft fmile, Infused with a fortitude from heav'n,

8

(When I have mock'd the sea with drops full-falt; Under my burthen groan'd ;) which rais'd in me

An undergoing ftomach, to bear up

Against what should enfue."

Mira. How came we a-fhore ?

Pro. By providence divine.

Some food we had, and fome fresh water, that
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,

Out of his charity (being then appointed
Mafter of this defign) did give us, with

Rich garments, linnens, ftuffs, and neceffaries,
Which fince have steeded much. So of his gentleness,

8 When I have DECK'D the fea] i. e. honour'd. But this is a poor thought. The Oxford Editor reads brack'd, which is ftill poorer. I imagine that Shakespear wrote MOCK'D, i. e. lent the Sea this trifling addition of falt-water: For when any thing is given or added, the effect of which is not felt or perceived, it was in the language of that time properly called mocking.

Knowing

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me
From my own library, with volumes that
I prize above my Dukedom.

Mira. Would I might

But ever fee that man!

9 Pro. Now, I arife:

Sit ftill, and hear the laft of our fea-forrow.
Here in this island we arriv'd, and here

Have I, thy school-mafter, made thee more profit
Than other Princes can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

Mira. Heav'ns thank you for't! And now, I pray you, Sir,

(For ftill 'tis beating in my mind) your reafon For raifing this fea-ftorm?

Pro. Know thus far forth,

By accident most strange, bountiful fortune
(Now my dear lady) hath mine enemies
Brought to this fhore: and, by my prescience
I find, my Zenith doth depend upon
A most aufpicious ftar; whose Influence
If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes
Will ever after droop. Here ceafe more questions;
Thou art inclin'd to fleep. 'Tis a good dulnefs,
And give it way; I know, thou canst not chufe-

[Miranda Лleeps. Come away, fervant, come; I'm ready now : Approach, my Ariel. Come.

part

9 Pro. Now I arife: -. -] i. e. now I come to the principal of my Story, for the fake of which I told the foregoing; namely this, that I have now my Enemies in my Power; and if I omit this Opportunity, I fhall never have another to recover my Dukedom. The word is ufed to usher in a matter of importance. So Richard III, when he comes to the murder of his Nephews, fays to Tirrel,

Rife, and lend an ear.

SCENE

SCENE III.

Enter Ariel.

Ari. All hail, great master! grave Sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure: Be't to fly;

To fwim; to dive into the fire; to ride

On the curl'd clouds: to thy ftrong bidding task
Ariel, and all his qualities.

Pro. Haft thou, Spirit,

Perform'd to point the tempeft that I bad thee?
Ari. To every Article.

I boarded the King's fhip: now on the beak,
Now in the wafte, the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd amazement. Sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the top-maft,
The yards, and bolt-fprit, would I flame diftinctly;
Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precurfers
Of dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary

And fight out-running were not; the fire and cracks
Of fulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
Seem'd to befiege, and make his bold waves tremble;
Yea, his dread trident shake.

Pro. My brave, brave spirit!

Who was fo firm, fo conftant, that this coyl
Would not infect his reason?

Ari. Not a foul

But felt a feaver of the mind, and plaid

Some tricks of defperation: all, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the veffel,
Then all a-fire with me: the King's fon Ferdinand
With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair)
Was the first man, that leap'd; cry'd, "hell is empty;
"And all the devils are here.

Pro. Why, that's my Spirit!
But was not this nigh fhore?