EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Prospero.

NOW my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own;
Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
I must be here confin'd by you,
Or sent to Naples: Let me not,
Since I have my drikedom got,
And mardon'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island, by your spell;
But release me from my bands,
With the help of your good hands.1
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please: now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be reliev'd by prayer;

Which pierces so, that it assmuts
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardon d be,
Let your indulgence set me free.

It is observed of The Tempest, that its plan is regular; this the author of The Revisal thinks, what I think too, an accidental effect of the story, not intended or regarded by our author. But, whatever might be Shakspeare's intention in forming or adopting the plot, he has made it instrumental to the production of many characters, diversi. fied with boundless invention, and preserved with profound skill in nature, extensive knowledge of opinions, and accurate observation of life. In a single drama are here exhibited princes, courtiers, anu sailors, all speaking in their real characters. There is the agency of airy spirits, and of an earthly gob. lin; the operations of magic, the tumults of a storm, the adventures of a desert island, the native effusion of untaught affection, the punishment of

(1) Applause: noise was supposed to dissolve a guilt, and the final happiness of the pair for whom our passions and reasons are equally interested.

spell.

JOHNSON

If lost, why then a grievous labour won; However, but a folly bought with wit, Enter Or else a wit by folly vanquished.

Speed. Twenty to one then, he is shipp'd already; And I have play'd the sheep, in losing him.

Pro. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray, An if the shepherd be awhile away.

Speed. You conclude that my master is a sheperd then, and I a sheep?

Pro. I do.

Speed. Why then my horns are his horns, whether
I wake or sleep.

Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter: and being so hard to me that brought your mind, I fear, she'll prove as hard to you in telling her mind. Give her no token but stones; for she's as hard as steel.

Pro. What, said she nothing?

Speed. No, not so much as-take this for thy pains. To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testern'd me; in requital whereof, hence forth carry your letters yourself; and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master.

Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep. Speed. This proves me still a sheep. Pro. True; and thy master a shepherd. Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance. Pro. It shall go hard, but I'll prove it by another. Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not Which cannot perish, having thee aboard, the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, Being destin'd to a drier death on shore :and my master seeks not me: therefore, I am no I must go send some better messenger; sheep. I fear, my Julia would not deign my lines, Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, Receiving them from such a worthless post. the shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee: therefore, thou art a sheep. Speed. Such another proof will make me cry baa.

Pro. Go, go, begone, to save your ship from wreck;

Pro. But dost thou hear? gav'st thou my letter

to Julia?

Speed. Ay, sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton; and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour. Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such a store of muttons.

Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her.

Pro. Nay, in that you are astray; 'twere best pound you.

Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter.

Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound, a pinfold.

Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold it over and

letter.

Speed. Well, I perceive, I must be fain to bear with you.

Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me? Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very orderly; having nothing but the word, noddy, for my pains.

Pro. Beshrew' me, but you have a quick wit. Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.

Pro. Come, come, open the maxter in brief:| what said she?

Speed. Open your purse, that the money, and the matter, may be both at once delivered.

Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains; what said she?

Speed. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her. Pro. Why ? could'st thou perceive so much from her?

(3) term for a courtezan. (2) A game at cards.

[Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. Garden of Julia's house. Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Would'st thou then counsel me to fall in love
Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
Luc. Ay, madam; so you stumble not unheed.
fully.

That every day with parle encounter me,
Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen,
In thy opinion, which is worthiest love?

Luc. Please you, repeat their names, I'll show
my mind

According to my shallow simple skill.

Jul. What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?
Luc. As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine,
But, were I you, he never should be mine.

Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?
Luc. Well of his wealth; but of himself, so, so.
Jul. What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus?
Luc. Lord, lord! to see what folly reigns in us!
Jul. How now! what means this passion at his
name?

Luc. Pardon, dear madam; 'tis a passing
shame,

That I, unworthy body as I am,

Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.

I

Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?
Luc. Then thus,-of many good I think him

best.

Jul. Your reason?

Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason,

think him so, because I think him so.

Jul. And would'st thou have me cast my love
on him?

Luc. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away.
Jul. Why, he of all the rest hath never mov'd me.
Luc. Yet he of all the rest, I think, best loves ye.
Jul. His little speaking shows his love but small.
Luc. Fire, that is closest kept, burns most of all.
Jul. They do not love, that do not show their love.
Luc. O, they love least, that let men know their
love.

Jul. I would, I knew his mind.
Luc.
Peruse this paper, madam.
Jul. To Julia,-Say, from whom?
Luc.
That the contents will show
Jul. Say, say; who gave it thee?
Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think
from Proteus:

He would have given it you, but I, being in the way
(5) Talk.

(4) Given me a sixpence.
(6) Pass sentence.

Did in your name receive it; pardon the fault, I pray.

Jul. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!'
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper and conspire against my youth?
Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth,
And you an officer fit for the place.

There, take the paper, see it be return'd;
Or else return no more into my sight.

Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with protestation !

[Tears the letter. Go, get you gone; and let the papers lie: You would be fingering them, to anger me. Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd

To be so anger'd with another letter.

[Exit Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same

Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!

hate.

Jul. Will you be gone?
Luc.

That you may ruminate.
[Exit.
Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter.
It were a shame to call her back again,
And pray her to a fault for which Ichid her.
What fool is she, that knows I am a maid,
And would not force the letter to my view?
Since maids, in modesty, say No, to that
Which they would have the profferer construe, Ay.
Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love,
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse,
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod !
How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,
When willingly I would have had her here!
How angrily I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile!
My penance is, to call Lucetta back,
And ask remission for my folly past:-
What ho! Lucetta!

Jul.

Nothing.

What is't you took up

Why didst thou stoop, then?
Luc. To take a paper up that I let fall.
Jul. And is that paper nothing?
Luc.
Nothing concerning me.
Jul. Then let it lie for those that it concerns.
Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns,
Unless it have a false interpreter.

Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.
Luc. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune:
Give me a note: your ladyship can set-

Jul. As little by such toys as may be possible: Best sing it to the tune of Light o' love.

Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune.

Jal. Heavy? belike it hath some burden then.
Luc Ay; and melodious were it, would you
sing it.
Jul And why not you?

Luc

I cannot reach so high.
Jul. Let's see your song:-How now, minion?
Luc. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out:
And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune.
Jul. You do not?

Luc. No, madam; it is too sharp.
Jul. You, minion, are too saucy.

Luc. Nay, now you are too flat,

And mar the concord with too harsh a descant:"
There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.
Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base.
Luc. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.

(1) A matchmaker. (2) Passion or obstinacy.
73) A term in music. (4) The tenor in music.

Injurious wasps! to feed on such sweet honey,
And kill the bees that yield it, with your stings!
I'll kiss each several paper for amends.
And here is writ-kind Julia ;-unkind Julia!
As in revenge of thy ingratitude,

I throw thy name against the bruising stones,
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
Look, here is writ-love-wounded Proteus :-
Poor wounded name! my bosom, as a bed,
Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be thoroughly
heal'd;

And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
But twice, or thrice, was Proteus written down?
Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away
Till I have found each letter in the letter,
Except mine own name; that some whirlwind bear
Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock,
And throw it thence into the raging sea!
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,-
Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
To the sweet Julia :-that I'll tear away;
And yet I will not, sith" so prettily
He couples it to his complaining names:
Thus will I fold them one upon another;
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.
Re-enter Lucetta.

Luc. Madam, dinner's ready, and your father
stays.
Jul. Well, let us go.

Luc. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales
here?

Jul. If you respect them, best to take them up.
Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down:
Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.
Jul. I see you have a month's mind to them.
Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you

SCENE III.-The same. A room in Antonio's
house. Enter Antonio and Panthino.

Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that,
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?
Pan. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son.
Ant. Why, what of him?
Pan.

He wonder'd, that your lordship
Would suffer him to spend his youth at home;
While other men, of slender reputation,"
Put forth their sons to seek preferment out:
Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there;
Some, to discover islands far away;
Some, to the studious universities.
For any, or for all these exercises,
He said, that Proteus, your son, was meet;
And did request me, to importune you,
To let him spend his time no more at home,

(5) A challenge. (6) Bustle, stir. (7) Since.
(8) Serious. (9) Little consequence

Come on, Panthino; you shall be employ'd
To hasten on his expedition.

[Exeunt Ant. and Pan'. Pro. Thus have I shunn'd the fire, for fear of burning;

And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd
I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter,
Lest he should take exceptions to my love;
And with the vantage of mine own excuse
Hath he excepted most against my love.
O, how this spring of love resembleth

The uncertain glory of an April day;
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away!
Re-enter Panthino.

Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you,
He is in haste, therefore, I pray you, go.
Pro. Why, this it is! my heart accords thereto,
And yet a thousand times it answers, no.

Pant. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Al- SCENE I.-Milan. An apartment in the Duke's