To trash for over-topping; new created

The creatures, that were mine; I fay, or chang'd 'em,
Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key
Of officer and office, fet all hearts i'th' ftate
To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was
The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk,

And fuckt my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not.
Mira. Good Sir, I do.

Pro. I pray thee, mark me then,

I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To clofenefs, and the bettering of my mind,
With that which, but by being fo retired,
O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother
Awak'd an evil nature; and my truft,
Like a good parent, did beget of him
A falfhood in its contrary, as great

As my truft was; which had, indeed, no limit,
A confidence fans bound. He being thus lorded,
Not only with what my revenue yielded,
But what my power might elfe exact; like one,
Who having into truth, by telling of it,
Made fuch a finner of his memory,

To credit his own lie, he did believe

He was, indeed, the Duke; from fubftitution,
And executing th' outward face of royalty,

With all prerogative. Hence his ambition growing-
Doft thou hear?

Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafness.

Pro. To have no fcreen between this part he plaid, And him he plaid it for, he needs will be

Abfolute Milan. Me, poor man! - my library
Was Dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties
He thinks me now incapable: confederates
(So dry he was for fway) wi' th' King of Naples
To give him annual tribute, do him homage;
Subject his coronet to his crown; and bend
The Dukedom, yet unbow'd, (alas, poor Milan !)
To moft ignoble stooping.

Mira. O the heav'ns!

Pro.

Pro. Mark his condition, and th' event; then tell me,

If this might be a Brother?

Mira. I fhould fin, (7)

To think but nobly of my grand-mother;
Good wombs have bore bad fons. (8)

Pro. Now the condition:

This King of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearks my brother's fuit;
Which was, that he in lieu o'th' premises,
Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,
Should prefently extirpate me and mine
Out of the Dukedom; and confer fair Milan,
With all the honours, on my brother. Whereon
A treacherous army levy'd, one mid-night
Fated to th' purpose, did Anthonio open

The gates of Milan; and, i'th' dead of darkness
The minifters for th' purpose hurry'd thence
Me, and thy crying felf.

Mira. Alack, for pity!

(7)

I should fin,

To think not nobly of my Grandmother ;] This is Mr. Pope's reading; from no Authority, I prefume: All the Copies that I have feen, have it; To think but nobly i. c. otherwise than nobly; according to our Author's Ufage. So, in Much Ado about Nothing i

I know not; if they speak but Truth of her,

Thefe hands fhall tear her.

And fo in Timon;

I to bear this,

That never knew but better, is fome Burthen.

&c. &c.

(8) Good Wombs have bore bad Sons.

Pro. Now, the Condition:] Thus have all the Editions divided these Speeches; But, tho' I have not attempted to regulate them otherwise, I have great Sufpicion, that our Author plac'd them thus ;

Pro. Good Wombs have bore bad Sons. Now, the Condition: How could Miranda, that came into this Defart Ifland an Infant, that had never seen any other Creatures of the World, but her Father and Caliban, with any Propriety be furnish'd to make fuch an Obfervation from Life, that the Iffue has often degenerated from the Parent? But it comes very properly from Profpero, as a fhort Document, by the By, to his Daughter; implying, "that she did very well to think with Ho. "nour of her Anceftor; for that it was common in Life, for good People to have bad Children."

I, not remembring how I cry'd out then,
Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint,
That wrings mine eyes to't.

Pro. Hear a little further,

And then I'll bring thee to the present business,

Which now's upon's, without the which this story
Were most impertinent.

Mira. Why did they not

That hour destroy us?

Pro. Well demanded, wench;

My tale provokes that queftion. Dear, they durft not (So dear the love my people bore me;) fet

A mark fo bloody on the business; but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurry'd us aboard a bark;
Bore us fome leagues to fea; where they prepar'd
A rotten carcafs of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, fail, nor mast; the very rats
Inftinctively had quit it: there they hoift us
To cry to th' fea, that roar'd to us; to figh
To th' winds, whofe pity, fighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.

Mira. Alack! what trouble

Was I then to you?

Pro. O a cherubim

Thou waft, that did preferve me: Thou didst fmile, Infused with a fortitude from heav'n,

When I have deck'd the fea with drops full-falt; Under my burthen groan'd;) which rais'd in me An undergoing ftomach, to bear up

Against what should enfue.

Mira. How came we a-fhore?

Pro. By providence divine.

Some food we had, and fome fresh water, that

A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,

Out of his charity (being then appointed

Master of this defign) did give us, with

Rich garments, linnens, ftuffs, and neceffaries,

Which fince have fteeded much. So of his gentleness, Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me

From

From my own library, with volumes that

I prize above my Dukedom.

Mira. Would I might

But ever fee that man!

Pro. Now, I arife: --

Sit ftill, and hear the last of our fea-forrow.
Here in this island we arriv'd, and here
Have I, thy school-mafter, made thee more profit
Than other Princes can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.
Mira. Heav'ns thank you for't! And

now,

you, Sir, (For ftill 'tis beating in my mind) your reason For raifing this fea-ftorm?

Pro. Know thus far forth;

By accident moft ftrange, bountiful fortune
(Now my dear lady) hath mine enemies
Brought to this fhore: and, by my prescience
I find, my Zenith doth depend upon

I

pray

A moft aufpicious ftar; whofe Influence
If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes
Will ever after droop.-Here ceafe more queftions
Thou art inclin'd to fleep. 'Tis a good dulnefs,
And give it way; I know, thou canst not chufe.
[Miranda fleeps.
Come away, fervant, come; I'm ready now;
Approach, my Ariel. Come.

Enter Ariel.

Ari. All hail, great mafter! grave Sir, hail! I come To answer thy beft pleasure: Be't to fly;

To fwim; to dive into the fire; to ride

On the curl'd clouds: to thy ftrong bidding task
Ariel, and all his qualities.

Pro. Haft thou, fpirit,

Perform'd to point the tempeft that I bad thee?
Ari. To every Article.

I boarded the King's fhip: now on the beak,
Now in the wafte, the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd amazement. Sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the top-mast,

The

The yards, and bolt-fprit, would I flame diftinctly; Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precurfers Of dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary

And fight out-running were not; the fire and cracks Of fulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune Seem'd to befiege, and make his bold waves tremble; Yea, his dread trident shake.

Pro. My brave, brave spirit!

Who was fo firm, fo conftant, that this coyl
Would not infect his reafon?

Ari. Not a foul

But felt a feaver of the mind, and plaid
Some tricks of defperation: all, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the King's fon Ferdinand
With hair up-ftaring (then like reeds, not hair)
Was the firft man, that leap'd; cry'd, "hell is empty;
"And all the devils are here.

Pro. Why, that's my Spirit!
But was not this nigh fhore?
Ari. Close by, my mafter.
Pro. But are they, Ariel, fafe?
Ari. Not a hair perifh'd:

On their fuftaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before. And as thou badít me,
In troops I have difpers'd them 'bout the ifle:
The King's fon have I landed by himself,
Whom I left cooling of the air with fighs,
In an odd angle of the ifle, and fitting,
His arms in this fad knot.

Pro. Of the King's fhip,

The mariners, fay how thou haft difpos'd,
And all the reft o'th' fleet?

Ari. Safely in harbour

Is the King's fhip; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dit me up at midnight, to fetch dew
From the ftill-vext Bermudas, there fhe's hid: (9)
The

(9) From the fill-vext Bermoothes] So this Word has hitherto been miftakenly written in all the Books. There are about 400 Ilands in North America, the principal of which was call'd Bermuda from a Spaniard

of