ments, however, are incorporated in the editions of 1793 and 1803, by Mr. Steevens. Mr. Malone When public opinion had begun to assign to Shakspeare the very high rank he was destined to hold, he became the promising object of fraud and imposture. This, we have already observed, he did not book was published, entitled, "A Compendious or briefe examination of certayne ordinary Complaints of diuers of our Countrymen in those our days: which, although they are in some Parte unjust and Gentleman." This had been originally published in 1581; but Dr. Farmer has clearly proved that Stafford, gent. Theobald, the same accurate critic informs us, was desirous of palming upon the world a play called "Double Falsehood," for a posthumous one of Shakspeare. In 1770, was reprinted at Feversham, an old play called "The Tragedy of Arden of Feversham and Black Will," with a to the atrocious attempt made in 1795-6, when, besides a vast mass of prose and verse, letters, &c., was not only brought forward for the astonishment of the admirers of Shakspeare, but actually per- formed on Drury Lane stage. It would be unnecessary to expatiate on the merits of this play, which of it. It produced, however, an interesting controversy between Mr. Malone and Mr. George Chalmers, Boats. Down with the top-mast; yare; lower, lower; bring her to try with main course. [A cry louder than the weather, or our office. Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the within.] A plague upon this howling! they are master? Play the men. Boats. I pray now, keep below. Ant. Where is the master, boatswain? Boats. Do you not hear him? You mar our labor! keep your cabins: you do assist the storm. Gon. Nay, good, be patient. Boats. When the sea is. Hence! What care these roarers for the name of king? To cabins: silence: trouble us not. Gon. Good; yet remember whom thou hast aboard. Boats. None that I more love than myself.1 Readily. Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO. Yet again? what do you here? Shall we give o'er and drown? Have you a mind to sink? Seb. A pox o' your throat! you bawling, blasphemous, uncharitable dog! Boats. Work you, then. Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. 2 Present instant. Sit down; Gon. I'll warrant him from drowning; though | Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw st sink. the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as leaky as an unstaunched wench. Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; set her two courses; off to sea again, lay her off. For our case is as theirs. Seb. I am out of patience. Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards. This wide-chapped rascal;-'Would thou mightst lie drowning The washing of ten tides! He'll be hanged yet; Though every drop of water swear against it, And gape at wid'st to glut him. [A confused noise within.] Mercy on us!-We split, we split! Farewell, my wife and children!Farewell, brother!-We split, we split, we split. Ant. Let's all sink with the king. Seb. Let's take leave of him. [Exit. [Exit. Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground; long heath, brown furze, any thing: the wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death. [Exit. SCENE II. The island: before the cell of PROSEnter PROSPERO and MIRANDA. PERO. Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them: The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer'd With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her, For thou must now know further. You have often Pro. The hour's now come; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; I do not think thou canst; for then thou wast not Mira. Certainly, sir, I can. Pro. By what? by any other house, or person? Of any thing the image tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance. Mira. 'Tis far off'; Both, both, my girl. By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence; But blessedly holp hither. Mira. O, my heart bleeds To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance! Please you further. Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Antonio,I pray thee, mark me, that a brother should Be so perfidious!-he whom, next thyself, Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put The manage of my state; as, at that time, Through all the signiories it was the first, And Prospero the prime duke; being so reputed In dignity, and, for the liberal arts, Without a parallel; those being all my study, The government I cast upon my brother, And to my state grew stranger, being transported, And wrapt in secret studies. Thy false uncleDost thou attend me? Mira. Sir, most heedfully. Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them; whom to advance, and whom To trash' for over-topping; new-created The creatures that were mine; I say, or chang'd them, Or else new-form'd them: having both the key To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was And suck'd my verdure out on't.-Thou attend'st not: I pray thee mark me. Mira. O good sir, I do. Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us, Pro. I thus neglecting wordly ends, all dedi- To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh cate To closeness, and the bettering of my mind As my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit, A confidence sans bound., He being thus lorded, To credit his own lie, he did believe Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. And him he play'd it for, he needs will be (So dry he was for sway) with the king of Naples, Mira. O the heavens! To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again, Mira. Was I then to you! Alack! what trouble O! a cherubim Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Pro. Mark his condition, and the event; then For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. tell me, If this might be a brother. I should sin Good wombs have borne bad sons. Mira. Heavens thank you for't! And now I pray you, sir, (For still 'tis beating in my mind,) your reason For raising this sea-storm? Know thus far forth. To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Of homage, and I know not how much tribute, - A most auspicious star; whose influence This king of Naples, being an enemy Which was, that he in lieu o' the premises, By accident most strange, bountiful fortune, Should presently extirpate me and mine If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Out of the dukedom; and confer fair Milan, Will ever after droop. Here cease more ques Come away, servant, come: I am ready now: With colors fairer painted their foul ends. In few, they hurried us abroad a bark; Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precur Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd sors A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats And sight-outrunning were not: The fire, and cracks Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble, Yea, his dread trident shake. Pro. Ari. My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil1 Would not infect his reason? Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners, Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring, (then like reeds, not hair,) Was the first man that leap'd: cried, Hell is empty, And all the devils are here. Pro. Why, that's my spirit! But was not this nigh shore? Ari. Close by, my master. Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labor, Bound sadly home for Naples; Pro. Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work: What is the time o' the day? Ari. Past the mid season. 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 dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me. Ari. I do not, sir. Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age and envy, Thou hast: where was she born? 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, How now? moody? I will discharge thee. Ari. What is't thou canst demand? Ari. My liberty. Do so; and after two days Pro. Before the time be out? no more. Remember, I have done thee worthy service; [Exit ARIEL Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; 1 Bustle, tumult. Bermudas. a Wave. |