Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father; This is no mortal business, 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 such senses
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 ftrays 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! vouchfafe, 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 requeft
(Which I do laft pronounce) is, "O you wonder!
you be made or no?

If

Mira. No wonder, Sir,

But certainly a maid.

Fer. My language! heavn's!

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

Pro. How the best?

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

Mir. Alack, for mercy!

3

Fer.

Fer. Yes, faith, and all his Lords: the duke of Milan, And his brave fon, being twain.

Pro. The Duke of Milan,

(11)

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 fome wrong: a word.
Mira. Why fpeaks my father fo ungently? this
Is the third man, that Ï e'er faw; the first,
That e'er I figh'd for. Pity move my father
To be inclin❜d my way!

Fer. O, ifa virgin,

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

thou doft here ufurp
and haft put thyself
to win it

Make the prize light. Sir, one word more; I charge thee,
That thou attend me:
The name thou ow'st not,
Upon this ifland, as a spy,
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 house,

Good things will strive 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 shall be

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

Fer. No,

I will refift fuch entertainment, 'till

(11)

the Duke of Milan,

And bis brave fon, being twain.] Here feems a flight forgetfulness in our Poet: No body was loft in this wreck, as is manifeft 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 rash a trial of him; for

He's gentle, and not fearful.

Pro. What, I fay,

My foot my tutor? put thy fword up, traitor,

Who mak'st a fhew, but dar'st not strike; thy confcience Is fo poffeft with guilt: come from thy ward,

For I can here disarm 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 weakness 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 nountain winds; but then exactly do

All points of my command.

Ari. To th' fyllable.

Pre. Come, follow: fpeak not for him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, another part of the Island.

Enter Alonfo, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,

B

Francifco, and others.

GONZALO.

have caufe

Efeech Sir, be merry: you
you,
(So have we all) of joy! for our escape
Is much beyond our lofs; our hint of woe
Is common; every day, fome failor's wife,
The masters of fome merchant, and the merchant
Have just our theme 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. Pr'ytbee 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, (of which, I am forry to fay, we don't want other inftances in our Poet;) I cannot be of this Gentleman's opinion, that it is interpolated. For fhould we take out this intermediate part, what would become of these words of the King?

Would I had never
Married my daughter there!

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

Seb. A dollor.

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

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

Ant. Fy, what a spendthrift 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, 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 feems to be defart

Seb. Ha, ha, ha.

So, you're paid.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inacceffible

Seb. Yet,

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not mifs't.

What daughter? and, where married? For it is from this intermediate 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 Sebaflian, 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. Mr. Pope's criticism therefore is injudicious and unweigh'd. Befides, poor and jejune as the matter of the dialogue is, it was certainly defigned to be of a ridiculous ftamp; to divert and unfettle the King's thoughts from reflecting too deeply on his fon's fuppos'd drowning.

Adr.