Now ufelefs, boil'd within thy skull! There ftand,

For you are spell-ftopt.

Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,

Mine eyes, ev'n fociable to th' fhew of thine,
Fall fellow-drops.The charm diffolves apace;
And as the morning fteals upon the night,
Melting the darkness; fo their rifing fenfes
Begin to chafe the ign'rant fumes, that mantle
Their clearer reafon. O my good Gonzalo,
My true
preferver, and a loyal Sir
To him thou follow'ft; I will pay thy graces
Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly
Didft thou, Alonfo, ufe me and my daughter:
Thy brother was a furtherer in the act;

Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian, flesh and blood. (30)
You brother mine, that entertain'd ambition,
Expell'd remorfe and nature; who with Sebaftian
(Whofe inward pinches therefore are most strong)
Would here have kill'd your King; I do forgive thee,
Unnat'ral though thou art. Their understanding
Begins to fwell, and the approaching tide
Will fhortly fill the reasonable fhore,

That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them,
That yet looks on me, or would know me.-, Ariel,
Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell;

I will dif-cafe me, and myself prefent,

[Exit Ariel, and returns immediately As I was fometime Milan: quickly, fpirit; Thou shalt ere long be free.

(30) Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood,] I by no means think, this was our Author's pointing; or that it gives us his meaning. He would fay, that Sebaftian now was pinch'd thro' and thro' for his trefpafs; felt the punishment of it all over his body; a like manner of expreffion we meet with in King Lear;

wipe thine eye;

The good-jers fhall devour them, flesh and fell,

E'er they fhall make us weep.

And fo our CHAUCER, in the first book of his Troilus and Creffida.. that he and all his kinne at ones

Were worthy to be brent, both feli and bones.

Ariel fings, and helps to attire him:
Where the bee fucks, there lurk I; (31)
In a cowflip's bell I lie :

There I couch, when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly,.

After funfet, merrily. (32)

Merrily, merrily, fhall I live now,

Under the bloffom, that hangs on the bough..

Pro

(31) Where the bee fucks, there fuck I;] I have ventur'd to vary from the printed copies here. Could Ariel, a spirit of a refin'd ætherial effence, be intended to want food? Befides the fequent lines rather countenance lurk.

(32) After fummer merrily] Why, after fummer? Unless we must fuppofe, our Author alluded to that mistaken notion of bats, fwal lows, &c. croffing the feas in purfuit of hot weather. I conjectured, in my SHAKESPEARE reflor'd, that funfet was our Author's word: And this conjecture Mr. Pope, in his last edition, thinks probably should be efpoufed. My reafons for the change were from the known nature of the bat. The boup fleeps during the winter, fay the Naturalifts; and fo does the bat too. (Upupa dormit byeme, ficut

vefpertilio, Albert, Magn.) Again, flies and gnats are the favourite food of the bat, which he procures by flying about in the night, (Cibus ejus funt mufcæ & culices: quem nocte volans inquirit. Idem, e Plinio.) But this is a diet, which, I prefume, he can only come at in the fummer season. Another obfervation has been made, that when bats fly either earlier, or in greater number than ufual, it is a fign the next day will be bot and ferene. (Vefpertiliones, fi vefperi citius & plures folito volarint, fignum eft calorem ferenitatem poftridie fore. Gratarolus apud Gefner. de avibus.) This prognoftick likewife only fuits with fummer. Again, the bat was call'd vefpertilio by the Latins, as it was vuxlepis by the Greeks, because this bird is not vifible by day; but appears first about the twilight of the evening, and fo continues to fly during the dark hours. And the Poets, whenever they mention this bird, do it without any allufion to the feason of the year; but conftantly have an eye to the accuftom'd hour of its. flight. In the fecond act of this play, where Gonzalo tells Anthonio and Sebaftian, that they would lift the moon out of her sphere, Sebaftian replies;

We would fo, and then go a bat-fowling.

So, in Macbeth, when the approach of the night is defcrib'd, in which Banquo was to be murder'd,

Ere the bat hath flown

His cloifter'd flight; ere to black Hecat's fummons
The fhard-born beetle with his drowsy hums

Hath rung night's yawning peal,

And

Pro. Why, that's my dainty Ariel; I fhall mifs thee; thou fhalt have freedom. So, fo, fo.

But

yet

To the King's fhip, invisible as thou art;

There fhalt thou find the mariners afleep
Under the hatches; the mafter and the boatswain,
Being awake, enforce them to this place;

And prefently, I pr'ythee.

Ari. I drink the air before me, and return

Or e'er your pulfe twice beat.

[Exit

Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement

Inhabits here; fome heav'nly power guide us

Out of this fearful country!

Pro. Behold, Sir King,

The wronged Duke of Milan, Profpero:

For more affurance that a living Prince

Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;
And to thee and thy company, I bid
A hearty welcome.

Alon. Be'st thou he or no,

Or fome inchanted trifle to abuse me,

As late I have been, I not know; thy pulfe
Beats, as of flesh and blood; and fince I faw thee,
Th' affliction of my mind amends, with which,
I fear, a madnefs held me; this must crave
(And if this be at all) a moft ftrange story:
Thy Dukedom I refign, and do intreat,

Thou pardon me my wrongs; but how should Profpers
Be living, and be here ?

Pro. Firft, noble friend,

Let me embrace thine age, whofe honour cannot

Be measur'd or confin'd.
Gon. Whether this be,
Or be not, I'll not fwear.

Pro. You do yet taste

Some fubtleties o' th' ifle, that will not let you

And Beaumont and Fletcher in their Paffionate Madman;,
Fountain-heads, and pathless groves,
Places, which pale paffion loves;
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls
Are warmly hous'd, fave bats and owls.

Believe

Believe things certain welcome, my friends all.
But you, my brace of Lords, were I fo minded,
I here could pluck his Highnefs' frown upon you,
And juftify you traitors: at this time.

I'll tell no tales.

Seb. The devil fpeaks in him.

Pro. No:

For you, moft wicked Sir, whom to call brother
Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive
Thy rankeft faults; all of them; and require
'My Dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,

Thou must restore.

Alon. If thou be't Profpero,

Give us particulars of thy prefervation,

How thou haft met us here, who three hours fince
Were wreckt upon this fhore; where I have loft
(How fharp the point of this remembrance is!)
My dear fon Ferdinand.

Pro. I'm woe for't, Sir.

Alon. Irreparable is the lofs, and patience Says, it is paft her cure.

Pro. I rather think,

You have not fought her help; of whose soft grace,
For the like lofs, I have her fov'reign aid,

And reft myself content.

Alon. You the like lofs?

Pro. As great to me, as late; and, fupportable
To make the dear lofs, have I means much weaker
Than you may call to comfort you; for I
Have loft my daughter.

Alon. A daughter?

O heav'ns! that they were living both in Naples, The King and Queen there; that they were, I wish, Myfelf were mudded in that oozy bed,

Where my fon lies. When did you lofe your daughter? Pro. In this laft tempeft. I perceive, these Lords

At this encounter do fo much admire,

That they devour their reason; and fcarce think,
Their eyes do offices of truth, their words

Are natural breath: but howfoe'er you have

Been

Been juftled from your fenfes, know for certain,
That I am Profp'ro, and that very Duke

Which was thruft forth of Milan; who moft ftrangely
Upon this fhore, where you were wreckt, was landed
To be the Lord on't. No more yet of this;
For 'tis a chronicle of day by day,

Not a relation for a breakfast, nor

Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, Sir;
This cell's my court; here have I few attendants,
And fubjects none abroad; pray you, look in;
My Dukedom fince you've given me again,
I will requite you with as good a thing;
At leaft, bring forth a wonder to content ye,
As much as me my Dukedom.

SCENE opens to the entrance of the Cell.

Here Profpero discovers Ferdinand and Miranda playing at Chefs.

Mira. S

Sr. No, my dear love,

WEET Lord, you play me false,

I would not for the world.

Mira. Yes, for a fcore of kingdoms you should wrangle, And I would call it fair play.

Alon. If this prove

A vifion of the island, one dear fon

Shall I twice lofe.

Seb. A moft high miracle!

Fer. Though the feas threaten, they are merciful:

I've curfed them without cause.

Alon. Now all the bleffings

Of a glad father compass thee about!

Arife, and fay how thou cam'ft here.

Mira. O wonder!

[Ferd. kneels.

How many goodly creatures are there here?

How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has fuch people in't!

Pro. 'Tis new to thee.

Alon. What is this maid, with whom thou waft at play? 'Your eld❜ft acquaintance cannot be three hours: