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Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father; This is no mortal bufinefs, nor no found

That the earth owns: I hear it now above me.
Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eyes advance,
And fay, what thou feeft yond.

Mira. What is't, a fpirit?

Lord, how it looks about! believe me, Sir,
It carries a brave form. But 'tis a fpirit.

Pro.No wench, it eats, and fleeps, and hath fuch fenfes
As we have, fuch. This gallant, which thou feeft,
Was in the wreck: and, but he's fomething ftain'd
With grief, (that's beauty's canker) thou might'ft call him
A goodly perfon. He hath loft his fellows,
And strays about to find 'em.

Mira. I might call him

A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever faw fo noble.

Pro. It goes on, I fee,

[Afide

As my foul prompts it. Spirit, fine fpirit, I'll free thee Within two days for this.

Fer. Moft fure, the Goddess

On whom these airs. attend! vouchsafe, my pray'r
May know, if you remain upon this ifland;
And that you will fome good inftruction give,
How I may bear me here: my prime request
(Which I do laft pronounce) is, "O you wonder
If you be made or no?

Mira. No wonder, Sir,
But certainly a maid.

Fer. My language! heav'ns!

I am the best of them that fpeak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis fpoken.

Pro. How the beft?

What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee? Fer. A fingle thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee fpeak of Naples. He does hear me ; And, that he does, I wees: myself am Naples, Who, with mine eyes (ne'er fince at ebb) beheld The King my father wreck't..

Mira. Alack, for mercy!

Fe

Fer. Yes, faith, and all his Lords: the Duke of Milan, And his brave son, being twain. (11)

Pro. The Duke of Milan,

And his more braver daughter, could controul thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't :- -At the first fight,
They have chang'd eyes: (delicate Ariel,
I'll fet thee free for this.) A word, good Sir,
I fear, you've done yourself some wrong: a word.-
Mira. Why fpeaks my father fo ungently

Is the third man, that I e'er saw; the first,
That e'er I figh'd for. Pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way!

Fer. O, if a virgin,

this

And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The Queen of Naples.

Pro. Soft, Sir; one word more.·

They're both in either's power: but this swift business I muft uneafy make, left too light winning

Make the prize light. Sir, one word more; Icharge thee,
That thou attend me :-thou dost here ufurp

The name thou ow'ft not, and haft put thyself
Upon this ifland, as a spy, to win it

From me, the Lord on't.

Fer. No, as I'm a man.

Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in fuch a temple. If the ill fpirit have fo fair an houfe,

Good things will ftrive to dwell with't.

Pro. Follow me.

Speak not you for him: he's a traitor. Come,
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together;
Sea-water fhalt thou drink; thy food fhall be

The fresh-brook muffels, wither'd roots, and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

Fer. No,

I will refift fuch entertainment, 'till

the Duke of Milan,

(11) And his brave fon, being train,] Here feems a flight forgetfulness in our Poet: No body was loft in this wreck, as is inanifeft from feveral paffages: and yet we have no fuch character introduc'd in the fable, as the Duke of Milan's fon.

Mine enemy has more power.

[He draws, and is charmed from moving.

Mira. O dear father,

Make not too rafh a trial of him; for

He's gentle, and not fearful.

Pro. What, I say,

My foot my tutor? put thy fword up, traitor,
Who mak'ft a fhew, but dar'ft not ftrike; thy confcience
Is fo poffeft with guilt: come from thy ward,
For I can here difarm thee with this stick,

And make thy weapon drop.

Mira. Befeech you, father.

Pro. Hence: hang not on my garment.
Mira. Sir, have pity;

I'll be his furety.

Pro. Silence: one word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What, An advocate for an impoftor? hush!

Thou think'ft there are no more fuch fhapes as he, Having feen but him and Caliban; foolish wench! To th' moft of men this is a Caliban,

And they to him are angels.

Mira. My affections

Are then moft humble: I have no ambition

To fee a goodlier man.

Pro. Come on, obey:

Thy nerves are in their infancy again,

And have no vigour in them.

Fer. So they are:

My fpirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's lofs, the weaknefs which I feel,

The wreck of all my friends, and this man's threats,
To whom I am fubdu'd, are but light to me;
Might I but through my prifon once a day
Behold this maid: all corners elfe o' th' earth
Let liberty make ufe of; fpace enough
Have I, in fuch a prison.

Pro. It works: come on.

(Thou haft done well, fine Ariel:) follow me. Hark, what thou elfe fhalt do me.

[To Ariel.

Mira. Be of comfort,

My father's of a better nature, Sir,

Than he appears by fpeech: this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.

Pro. Thou shalt be as free

As mountain winds; but then exactly do
All points of my command.

Ari. To th' fyllable.

Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt. GERAIS CEKAISEEKSŒ¿¢AND+ANSCEND

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SCENE, another part of the Island. Enter Alonfo, Sebaftian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francifco, and others.

GONZALO.

BEfeech you, Sir, be merry: you have cause

Is much beyond our lofs; our hint of woe
Is common; every day, fome failor's wife,
The mafters of fome merchant, and the merchant
Have juft our theam of woe: but for the miracle,
(I mean our prefervation). few in millions

Can fpeak like us: then wifely, good Sir, weigh
Our forrow with our comfort.

Alon. Pry'thee, peace. (12)

Seb.

(12) Alon. Pythee peace.] All that follows from hence to this fpeech of the King's.

You cram these words into my ears against

The ftomach of my fenfe.

feems to Mr. Pope to have been an interpolation by the Players. For my part, tho' I allow the matter of the dialogue to be very poor and trivial, (f which, I am sorry to fav, we don't want other inftances in our Poet ;) I cannot be of this Gentleman's opinion, that it is interpolated For thould we take out this intermediate part, what would become of thefe words of the King?

Would I had never

Married m, oglan there!

What

Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. The vifitor will not give o'er fo.

Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit by and by it will strike.

Gon. Sir,

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Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's offer'ds comes to the entertainer

Seb. A dollor.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you propos'd.

Seb. You have taken it wifelier than I meant you should.
Gon. Therefore, my Lord,-

Ant. Fy, what a fpendthrift is he of his tongue?
Alon. I pr'ythee, fpare.-

Gon. Well, I have done: but yet→→

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good wager, firft begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

Ant. The cockrel.

Seb. Done: the wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match.

Adr. Though this ifland feem to be defart
Seb. Ha, ha, ha.So, you're paid.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almoft inacceffible 'Seb. Yet,

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not mifs't.

What daughter? and, where married? For it is from this intermedia ate part of the scene only, that we are told, the King had a daughter nam'd Claribel, whom he had married into Tunis. 'Tis true, in a fubfequent fcene, betwixt Antonio and Sebaftian, we again hear her and Tunis mention'd: but in fuch a manner, that it would be quite obfcure and unintelligible without this previous information. Pope's criticism therefore is injudicious and unweigh'd. Befides, poor and jejune as the matter of the dialogue is, it was certainly defign'd to be of a ridiculous stamp; to divert and unfettle the King's thoughts from reflecting too deeply on his fon's suppos'd drowning.

Mr.

Adr.

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