Ari. No, Sir.
Pro. Thou hast: where was she born ? speak; tell


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Ari. Sir, in Argier.

Pro. Oh, was she so? I must,
Once in a month, recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forgett'st. This damn’d witch, Sy-

For mischiefs manifold, and forceries 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

And here was left by the sailors : thou my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, waft then her servant :
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine ; within which rift
Imprison’d, thou didst painfully remain
A dozen years, within which space she died,
And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans,
As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island,
(Save for the son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp, hag-born) not honour'd with
A human shape.

Ari, Yes ; Caliban her son.
Pro. Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban,
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
What torment' I did find thee in: thy groans
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts
Of ever-angry bears ; it was a torment
To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not again undo : it was mine art,

B 3

When G

When I arriv'd, and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.

Ari. I thank thee, master.

Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak,
And peg thee in his knotty entrails, 'till
Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

Ari. Pardon, master.
I will be correspondent to command,
And do my ipiriting gently.

Pro. Do so; and after two days
I will discharge thee.

Ari. That's my noble master :
What shall I do? say what: what shall I do?

Pro. Go make thyself like to a nymph o' the sea.
Be subject to no sight but thine and mine ; invisible
To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape,
And hither come in it: go, hence, with diligence.

[Exit Ariel.

Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast nept well;

Mira. ' The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

Pro. Shake it off : come on;
We'll visit Caliban, my Nave, who never
Yields us kind answer.


The strangeness] Why should a wonderful story produce sleep? I believe experience will prove, that any violent agitation of the mind cafily subsides in flumber, especially when, as in Prospero's relation, the last images are pleasing.

JOHNSON. The poet seems to have been apprehensive that the audience, as well as Miranda, would feep over this long but necessary tale, and therefore strives to break it. First, by making Profpero divest himself of his magic robe and wand ; then by waking lier attention no less than fix times by verbal interjuption; then by varying the action when he rises, and bids her continue fitting: and laftly, by carrying on the business of the fable while Miranda ílceps, by which he is continued on the stage till the poet has occasion for her again.


Mira. 'Tis a villain, Sir,
I do not love to look on.

Pro. But, as ʼtis,
We cannot miss him : he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices
That profit us.

What ha! Nave ! Caliban!
Thou earth, thou ! speak.

Cal. (Within.] There's wood enough within.
Pro. Come forth, I say; there's other business for

Come, thou tortoise! when ?

Enter Ariel like a water-nymph.
Fine apparition ! My quaint Ariel,
Hark in thine ear.
Ari. My lord, it shall be done.

(Exit. Pro. Thou poisonous flave, got by the devil him

self Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!


Enter Caliben. Cal. As wicked dew, as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholsome fen, Drop on you both! a fouth-west blow on you, And blister you all o'er !

Pro. 2 Cal. As wicked dere, as e'er mother brush'd

With raven's feather from unwholome fen,

Drop on you both!] Shakespeare hath very artificially given the air of the antique to the language of Caliban, in order to heighten the grotesque of his character. As here he uses wicked for unwhiljome. So Sir John Maurdevil, in his travels, p. 334. edit. Lond. 1725.- at alle ty mes brennethe a vefjelle of cristalle fulle of bawme for to zeven gode smalle and odcur to the emperour, and to voyden awey alle WYKKEDE ejres and corrupciouns. It was a tradition, it seems, that iord Falkland, lord C. J. Vaughan, and Mr. Seldon concurred in observing, that Shakespeare had not only found out a new character in his Caliban, but had also devised and adapted a new manner of language for that character. What they meant by it, without doubi, was, that Shakespeare gave his language a cor


Pro. For this be sure, to-night thou shalt have

cramps, Side-stitches that shall

up; urchins Shall, 3 for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.

pen thy breath

tain grotefque air of the favage and antique ; which it certainly has. But Dr. Bentley took this, of a new language, literally ; for speaking of a phrase in Milton, which he supposed altogether absurd and unmeaning, he says, Satan had not the privilege as Calibun in Shakespeare, to use new phrase and di&tion unkno un to all others and again—to practise distances is fiill a Caliban fiile. Note on Milton's Paradise Loft, 1. 4. v. 945: But I know of no such Caliban flile in Shakespeare, that hath new phrafe and di&tion unknown to all others. WARBURTON.

Whence these critics derived the notion of a new language appropriated to Caliban, I cannot fird: they certainly mi took brutality of sentiment for uncouthness of words. Caliban had learned to speak of Prospero and his daughter, he had no names for the sun and moon before their arrival, and could not have invented a language of his own without more underftarding than Shakespeare has thought it proper to bestow upon him. His di&tion is indeed somewhat clouded by the gloominess of his temper, and the malignity of his purposes; but let any other being entertain the same thoughts, and he will find them easily it ue in the fame expresions.

As wicked dew,---] il'icked; having haneful qualities. So Spenser says, wickid weed; fo, in opposition, we say herbs or medicines have virtues. Bacon mentions virtuous Bezoar, and Dryden virtuous berls. JOHNSON,

3--for that vajt of night that they may work,] The vaft of night means the night which is naturally empty and deserted, without action. It has a meaning like that of nox vafia,

It should be remembered, that, in the pneumatology of former times, these particulars were settled with the moit minute exactness, and the different kinds of visionary beings had different allotments of time suitable to the varieiy or confequence of their employments. During these spaces, they were at liberty to act, but were always obliged to leave off at a certain hour, that they might not interfere in that portion of night which belong'd to others. Among these we may fuppose urchins to have had a part subjected to their dominion. To this limitation of time Shakespeare alludes again in K. Lear. He begins at curfew, and walks till the fecond cock. STEEVENS.


Cal. I must eat my dinner. This isand's mine, by. Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest first, Thou stroak’dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st

give me Water with berries in't ; and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee, And shew'd thee all the qualities o’the ille, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place, and fertile. Curs'd be I, that I did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! For I'am all the subjects that you have, Who first was mine own king: and here you sty me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The reit of the island.

Pro. Thou most lying Nave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness : I have us'd

thee, Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodg’d thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child.

Cal. Oh ho, oh ho!I wou'd it had been done!
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
This ise with Calibans.

Pro. 4 Abhorred flave;
Which any print of goodness will not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,

* Abborred Lave;} This speech, which the old copy gives to Miranda, is very judiciously bestowed by Mr. Theobald on Prospero. JOHNSON.

The modern editions take this speech from Miranda, and give it to Profpero; though there is nothing in it but what the may speak with the greatest propriety; especially as it accounts for her being enough in the way and power of Caliban, to enable him to make the attempt complained of. The poet himself thews he intended Miranda shouid be his tutoress, when he makes Caliban say, “ I've seen thee in her, my mistress shewed me, " thee and thy dog, and thy bush ;” to Stephano, who had jux allured the moniter he was the man in the moon. Holt.


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