Why, that's my spirit! Pro. Close by, my master. Not a hair perish'd; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher than before: and as thou bad'st me, In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle : The king's son have I landed by himself; Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs, In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting, His arms in this sad knot. Safely in harbour Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd, Pro. Past the mid season. Ari. Pro. At least two glasses: the time 'twixt six and now Must by us both be spent most preciously. Ari. Is there more toil? since thou must give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me. Pro. What is't thou can'st demand? How now ? moody? Pro. Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? Ari. No. Pro. Thou dost; and think'st it much, to tread the ooze Of the salt deep ; To run upon the sharp wind of the north; To do me business in the veins o' the earth, When it is bak'd with frost. I do not, sir. Ari. Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot The foul witch, Sycorax, who, with age and envy, Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her? Ari. No, sir. Pro. Thou hast where was she born? speak; tell me. Ari. Sir, in Árgier. Pro. O, was she so? I must, Once in a month, recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch, Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier, Thou know'st, was banish'd; for one thing she did, They would not take her life: Is not this true? Ari. Ay, sir. Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my slave, A dozen years; within which space she died, groans, As fast as mill-wheels strike: Then was this island, (Save for the son that she did litter here, A freckled whelp, hag-born) not honoured with Ari. Ari. I thank thee, master. Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. Ari. Do so; and after two days I will discharge thee. To no sight but thine and mine; invisible the sea over the rugged rocks by which they are surrounded, and which renders access to them so difficult. It was then the current opinion that Bermudas was inhabited by monsters and devils. Setebos, the god of Caliban's dam, was an American devil, worshipped by the giants of Patagonia. 5 i. e. waves, or the sea. Flot, Fr. 6 The old English name of Algiers 7 Behests, commands We cannot miss him: he does make our fire, That profit us. There's wood enough within. Pro. Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee: Come forth, thou tortoise! when?? Re-enter ARIEL, like a Water-nymph. Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! Enter CALIBAN. Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins4 As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more stinging Cal. Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me; Water with berries in't; and teach me how The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fer II. e. we cannot do without him. The phrase is still common in the midland counties. 2 This is a common expression of impatience. Vide bote on King Richard II. Act i. Scene 1. 3 Quaint here means brisk, spruce, dexterous, from the French cointe. Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing and singing; Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd, (The wild waves whist3) Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Bur. Bowgh, wowgh. The strain of strutting chanticlere [dispersedly. [dispersedly. Fer. Where should this musick be? i' the air, or the earth? It sounds no more ;--and sure, it waits upon had different allotments of time suitable to the variety and nature of their agency. 6 Destroy. 7 The word aches is evidently a dissyllable here and in two passages of Timon of Athens. The reader will remember the senseless clamour that was raised against Kemble for his adherence to the text of Shakspeare in 4 Urchins were fairies of a particular class. Hedge- thus pronouncing it as the measure requires. "Ake," hogs were also called urchins; and it is probable that says Baret in his Alvearie, "is the verb of this substanthe sprites were so named, because they were of a mis-tive Ache, ch being turned into k." And that ache was chievous kind, the urchin being anciently deemed a pronounced in the same way as the letter h is placed bevery noxious animal. Shakspeare again mentions theseyond doubt by the passage in Much Ado about Nothing, fairy beings in the Merry Wives of Windsor. in which Margaret asks Beatrice for what she cries Heigh ho, and she answers for an h. i. e. ache. See the Epigram of Heywood adduced in illustration of that passage. This orthography and pronunciation contihued even to the times of Butler and Swift. It would be easy to produce numerous instances. Like urchins, ouples, and fairies green and white." In the phrase still current, "a little urchin," the idea of the fairy still remains. 5 That rust of night is that space of night. So, in Hamlet: "In the dead waste and middle of the night," nor vasta, midnight, when all things are quiet and still, making the world appear one great uninhabited waste. In the pneumatology of ancient times visionary beings | 8" The giants when they found themselves fettered roared like bulls, and cried upon Setebos to help them." -Eden's Hist. of Travayle, 1577. p. 434. 9 Still, silent I'll be his surety. Sir, have pity; Silence: one word more Pro. Mira. Pro. Fer. So they are: My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. Pro. a Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!--Follow me.-- Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? This Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first That e'er I sighed for: pity move my father To be inclin'd my way! 1 i. e. owns. To owe was to possess or appertain to, in ancient language. 2 The folio of 1685 reads made, and many of the mo dern editors have laboured to persuade themselves that it was the true reading. It has been justly observed by M. Mason that the question is "whether our readers will adopt a natural and simple expression, which requires no comment, or one which the ingenuity of many Cominentators has but imperfectly supported." 3 To control here signifies to confute, to contradict unanswerably. The ancient meaning of control was to check or exhibit a contrary account, from the old French contre-roller. 4" you have donc yourself some wrong" that is, spoken a falsehood. Thus in The Merry Wives of Windsor: "This is not well, master Ford, this wrongs you." 5 Fearful was sometimes used in the sense of formidable, terrible, dreadful, like the French épouvantable; as may be seen by consulting Cotgrave or any of our old dictionaries. Shakspeare almost always uses it in this sense. In K. Henry VI. Act iii, Scene 2, "A mighty and a fearful head they are." He has also fear fil wars; fearful bravery; &c. &e. The verb to fear is most commonly used for to fright, to terrify, to make afraid. Mr. Gifford remarks, "as a proof how litle our old dramatists were understood at the Restoration, that Dryden censures Jonson for an improper use of this word, the sense of which he altogether mistakes." Ant. He misses not much. Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is indeed almost beyond credit)- Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are. Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness, and glosses; being rather new dy'd than stain'd with salt water. Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, he lies? Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Africk, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis. Seb. "Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen. Gun. Not since widow Dido's time. Ant. Widow? a pox o' that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido! Seb. What if he had said widower Æneas too? good lord, how you take it! Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. Adr. Carthage? Gon. I assure you, Carthage. Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp,” Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's next? offer'd, Comes to the entertainer- Seb. A dollar. Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you purposed. Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. Gon. Therefore, my lord, Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple. Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands. Gon. Ay? Ant. Why, in good time. Gon. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. Alon. I pr'ythee, spare. Gon. Well, I have: But yet Seb. He will be talking. Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow? Seb. The old cock. Ant. The cockrel. Seb. Done: The wager? Ant. A laughter. Seb. A match. Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,Seb. Ha, ha, ha! Ant. So you've pay'd. Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,Seb. Yet, Adr. Yet. Ant. He could not miss it. Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.* Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered. Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life. Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny. Seb. With an eye of green in't. 1 See note 14, p. 20. 2 It was usual to call a merchant-vessel a merchant, as we now say a merchant-man. 3 He calls Gonzalo the visitor, in allusion to the office of one who visits the sick to give advice and consola-. tion. 4 Temperance is here used for temperature, or temperateness. Very foul, Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,- And women too; but innocent and pure: Seb. And yet he would be king on't. Ant. The latter end of his commmonwealth forgets the beginning. Gon. All things in common nature should pro duce thing to me. Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing. Ant. 'Twas you we laughed at. Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. Ant. What a blow was there given? Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle: you 1 i. e. Deliberated, was in suspense. 2 See note on Twelfth Night, Act v. Sc. 1. 3 See Montaigne's Essays translated by John Florio, fol. 1603, Chap. "Of the Caniballes." 4 An engine was a term applied to any kind of machine in Shakspeare's age 5 Foison is only another word for plenty or abundance of provision, but chiefly of the fruits of the earth. In a subsequent scene we have "Earth's increase, and foison plenty." 6 See Montaigne as cited before. 7 Warburton remarks that "all this dialogue is a fine saure on the Utopian Treatise of Government, and the would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing." Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music, Seb. We would so, and then go bat-fowling. Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy? Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. [All sleep but ALON. SEB. and ANT. Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find, They are inclined to do so. Seb. Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: Thank you: Wondrous heavy. [ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL. Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. Why Seb. Ant. What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee; and My strong imagination sees a crown What, art thou waking? I do; and, surely, It is a sleepy language; and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep: What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep. Ant. Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores. Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do, Trebles thee o'er." Seb. Well; I am standing water. Hereditary sloth instructs thee. 0, Do so: to ebb, If you but knew how you the purpose cherish, Seb. Pr'ythee, say on: The setting of thine eye, and check, proclaim A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throes thee much to yield. impracticable inconsistent schemes therein recommended." 8 Antonio apparently means to say, "You must be more serious than you usually are, if you would pay attention to my proposals; which attention, if you be stow it, will in the end make you thrice what you are." 9 Sebastian introduces the simile of water. It is ta. ken up by Antonio, who says he will teach his stagnant waters to flow. "It has already learned to ebb," says Sebastian. To which Antonio replies-"O, if you but knew how much even that metaphor, which you use in jest, encourages the design which I hint at ; how, in stripping it of words of their common meaning, and using them figuratively, you adapt them to your own situation."-Edinburgh Magazine Nov. 1796. |