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man i'th' moon? -a most poor credulous monster; well drawn, monster, in good sooth.

Cal. I'll shew thee every fertile inch o'th'Ife, and I will kiss thy foot: I proythee, be my god.

Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster; when his god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle.

Cal. I'll kiss thy foot. I'll swear my self thy subject.
Ste. Come on then; down, and swear.

Trin. I shall laugh my self to death at this puppyheaded monster: a most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him

Ste. Come, kiss.

Trin. But that the poor monster's in drink : an a-
bominable monfter!
Cal. I'll shew thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee

I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wond'rous man.

Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard.

Cal. I pry’thee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;
Şhew thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmazet; I'll bring thee
To clutt'ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee
(19) Young Shamois from the rock. Wilt thou go with
Ste. I proythee now, lead the way

without any more (19) Young Scamels from the Rock.) I can no where else meet with such a Word as Scamel, which has postess’d all the Editions. Shakespeare mast certainly either have wrote Shamois (as Mr. Warburton and I have both conjecturd) i. e. young Kids: or Sea-malls. The Sea-mall, or Seamell, or Sta-mew (according to Willoughby,) is that Bird, which is call'd Larus cinereus minor ; it feeds upon Fish, and frequents the Banks of Lakes. It is not impoffible, but our Poet might here intend this Bird. Or, again, (and which comes near to Scamel, in the Traces of the Letters.) Ray tells us of another Bird, call'd the Stannel, (the fame with the Tinnunculus among the Latins, ånd xey geis amongit the Greeks;) of the Hawk Species. It is no Matter which of the three Readings we embrace, to we take a Word signifying the Name of something in Naturé.



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talking. Trinculo, the King and all our company else being drown'd, we will inherit here. Here, bear my bottle ; fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again. Cal." [Sings drurkenly.] Farewel, master; farewel,

Trin. A howling monster ; a drunken monster,
Cal. No more dams I'll make for fish,

Nor fetch in firing at requiring,
Nor scrape trencher, mor wash dish,
Bạn Ban, Cacalyban

Has a new master, get a new man.
Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey,

day, freedom !
Ste. Ő braye monster, lead the way. [Exeunt,

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Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log.

"HERE be some sports are painful, but their


Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters
Point to rich ends. This my mean task wou'd be
As heavy to me, as 'tis odious: but
The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours pleasures : O, she is
Ten times more gentle, than her father's crabbed;
And he's compos'd of harsḥness. I must move
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,
Upon a fore injunction. My sweet mistress
Weeps, when she sees me work, and says, such baseness
Had pe'er like executer; I forget ;


But these sweet thoughts do ev'n refresh my labour, Most busie-less, when I do it. (20)

Enter Miranda ; and Prospero, at a distance unseen,

Mira. Alas, now pray you,
Work not so hard; I would the lightning had
Burn't up those logs, that thou’rt enjoin'd to pile;
Pray, set it down and rest you; when this burns,
'Twill weep for having wearied you: my father
Is hard at study; pray now, rest your self;
He's safe for these three hours.

Fer. O most dear mistress,
The fun will set, before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.

Mira. If you'll fit down,
I'll bear your logs the while. Pray give me that,
I'll carry't to the pile.

Fer. No, precious creature,
l'ad rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I fit lazy by.

Mira. It would become me,
As well as it does you; and I should do it
With much more ease; for my good will is to it,
And yours it is against.

Pro. Poor worm! thou art infected;
This visitation shews it.

Mira. You look wearily. Fer. No, noble mistress'; 'tis fresh morning with mo, When you are by at night. I do beseech you, (Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers) What is your name?

(20) Leaft busie when I do it.] This Reading, I presume, to be Mr. Pope's; for I do not find it authoriz'd by the Copies : 'I'he two first Folio's read;

Most busy least, when I do it. 'Tis true, this Reading is corrupt; but the Corruption is fo very little remov'd from the Truth of the Text, that I can't afford to think well of my own Sagacity for having discover'd it.


Mira. Miranda. O my father,
I've broke your heft to say so.

Fer. Admir'd Miranda!
Indeed, the top of admiration; worth
What's dearest to the world! full many a lady
I've ey'd with best regard, and many a time
Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues
Have I lik'd sev'ral women, never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
- Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd,
And put it to the foil. But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best.

Mira. I do not know
One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save from my glass mine own; nor have I seen
More that I may call men, than you, good friend,
And my dear father; how features are abroad,
I'm skilless of; but, by my modesty,
(The jewel in my dower) I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you,
Nor can imagination form a shape,
Besides your self, to like of. But I prattle
Something too wildly, and my father's precepts
I therein do forget.

Fer. I am, in my condition, A Prince, Miranda; I do think, a King; (I would, not so!) and would no more endure This wooden slavery, than I would suffer The flesh-flie blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak; The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service, there resides To make me slave to it, and for your sake Am I this patient log-man.

Mira. Do you love me?

Fer. O heav'n, O earth, bear witness to this sound, And crown what I profess with kind event,

If I speak true; if hollowly, invert
What best is boaded me, to mischief! I,
Beyond all limit of what else i'th' world,
Do love, prize, honour you.

Mira. I am a fool,
To weep at what I'm glad of.

Pro. Fair encounter
Of two most rare affections! heav'ns rain

grace, On that which breeds between 'em!

Fer. Wherefore weep you?

Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer, What I desire to give; and much less take, What I shall die to want: but this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide it self, The bigger bulk it shews. Hence, bashful cunning, And prompt me plain and holy innocence. I am your wife, if you will marry me; If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no.

Fer. My mistress, dearest, And I thus humble ever.

Mira. My husband then ?

Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e'er of freedom; here's my hand. Mira. And mine, with my heart in't, and now fare

wel, Till half an hour hence. Fer. A thousand, thousand.

[Exeunt. Pro. So glad of this as they, I cannot be, Who are surpriz’d withal; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I'll to my book 1 For yet, ere supper-time must I perform Much business appertaining.



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