I'll fet thee free for this. A word, good Sir,
I fear, you have done yourself fome wrong: a word-
Mira. Why speaks my father so urgently? this
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,

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 pow'r: but this swift business
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

(Afide.

Make the prize light. -Sir, one word more; I charge

thee,

That thou attend me:--thou doft here ufurp

The name thou ow'st not, and haft put thyself

Upon this Island, 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 house,

Good things will strive to dwell with't.

Pro. [To Ferd.) Follow me

[To Mirand.] Speak not you for him; he's a traitor

Come,

I'll manacle thy neck and feet together;

Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be

The fresh-brook muscels, wither'd roots, and hufks

Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

Fer. No,

I will refift fuch entertainment, 'till

Mine enemy has more power.

[He draws, and is charm'd from moving.

Mira. O dear father,

Make not too rash a tryal of him; for

He's gentle, and not fearful.

Pro. What I fay,

My foot my tutor? put thy sword up traiter,

Who

Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike; thy conscience

Is so possest with guilt: come from thy ward,
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,

And make thy weapon drop.

Mira. Beseech 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'st, there are no more fuch shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban; foolish wench!
To th' most of men this is a Caliban,

And they to him are angels.

Mira. My affections

Are then most humble: I have no ambition
To fee a goollier man.

Pro. Come on, obey; [To Ferdinand.]

Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.

Fer. So they are:

My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.

My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, and this man's threats,
To whom I am fubdu'd, were but light to me,

Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid: all corners else o'th' earth

Let liberty make use of; space enough

Have I, in fuch a prison.

Pro. It works: come on.

:

[To Ariel] Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! follow me.

Hark, what thou else shalt do me.

Mira. Be of comfort,

My father's of a better nature, Sir,

4 Desist from any hope of awing me by that posture of defence.

Than

Than he appears by speech: 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. [To Ferdinand.] Come, follow: [To Mir.]

speak not for him.

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

Another Part of the Island.

Enter Alonzo, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francifco, and others.

B

GONZALO.

ESEECH you, Sir, be merry: you have cause (So have we all) of joy! for our escape Is much beyond our loss: our hint of woe 5 Is common; every day, some failor's wife, The master of some merchant, and the merchant, Have just our theme of woe: but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us: then wisely, good Sir, weigh Our forrow with our comfort.

Alon. Pr'ythee, peace.

5 Hint is that which recals to the memory. The cause that fills our minds with grief is common. Dr. Warburton reads stint of woe.

6 Alon. Prythee peace.] All that follows from hence to this speech of the King's,

You cram these Words into my
Ears against

The Stomach of my Sense.

Seb.

seems 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, I cannot be of opinion, that it is interpolated. For should we take out this intermediate Part, what would become of these words of the King?

Would I bad never Married my Daughter there! What

Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. The visitor will not give o'er so. 7

Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit,

by and by it will strike.

Gon. Sir,

Seb. One:- Tell,

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 spoken truer than you proposed.

Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

Gon. Therefore, my lord,

Ant. Fie, what a spend-thrift he is of his tongue! Alon. I pr'ythee, spare.

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 seem to be defert

Seb. Ha, ha, ha,

So, you're paid.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inacceffible

Seb. Yet

Adr. Yet

:

Ant. He could not miss't.

Adr. It must needs be of fubtle, tender, and deli

cate temperance.

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.

Seb. Ay, and a fubtle, as he most learnedly delivered.
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.

Ant. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a fen.

Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.

Ant. True, save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none or little.

Gon. How lush and lufty the grafs looks? how green?

Ant. The ground indeed is tawny.

Seb. With an eye of green in't.

Ant. He misses not much.

Seb. No: he does not mistake the truth totally.
Gon. But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almoft

beyond credit

Seb. As many voucht rarities are,

Gon. That our garments being, as they were, drench'd in the fea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and gloffes: being rather new dy'd, than stain'd with falt

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 profper well in our returo. Adr. Tunis was never grac'd before with such a paragon to their Queen.

Gon. Not fince widow Dido's time.

Ant.