Pro. Thou moft lying flave,

Whom ftripes may move, not kindness; I have us'd thee (Filth as thou art) with humane care, and lodg'd

In mine own cell, 'till thou didst feek 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 elfe
This Ifle with Calibans.

4

Pro. Abhorred flave; (5)

Which any print of goodnefs wilt not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pity'd thee,

Took pains to make thee fpeak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other. When thou didft not, favage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldft gabble like
A thing moft brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known. But thy vile race
(Tho' thou didst learn) had that in't, which good natures
Could not abide to be with; therefore waft thou
Defervedly confin'd into this rock,

Who hadft deferv'd more than a prifon

Cal. You taught me language, and my profit on't Is, I know how to curfe: the red plague rid you, For learning me your language!

Pro. Hag-feed, hence!

Fetch us in fewel, and be quick (thou wer't beft)
To answer other business. Shrug'ft thou, malice?

(s) Mira. Abhorred Slave;] In all the printed Editions this Speech is given to Miranda: but I am perfuaded, the Author never defign'd it for her. In the firft Place, 'tis probable, Profpero taught Caliban to speak, rather than left that Office to his Daughter: in the next Place, as Prospero was here rating Caliban, it would be a great Impropriety for her to take the Difcipline out of his Hands; and, indeed, in fome fort, an Indecency in her to reply to what Caliban last was speaking of. Mr. Dryden, I observe, in his Alteration of this Play, has judiciously placed this Speech to Profpero. I can easily guess, that the Change was first deriv'd from the Players, who not loving that any Character should stand too long filent on the Stage, to obviate that Inconvenience with Regard to Miranda, elap'd this Speech to her Part.

If

If thou neglect'ft, or doft unwillingly

What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps;
Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar,
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

Cal. No, 'pray thee.

I must obey; his art is of fuch pow'r,

It would controul my dam's god Setebos,
And make a vaffal of him.

Pro. So, flave, hence!

[Exit Caliban.

Enter Ferdinand; and Ariel invifible, playing and finging.

ARIEL'S SONG.

Come unto thefe yellow fands,

And then take hands:

Curt fied when you have, and kift

The wild waves whift;

Foot it featly here and there,

And, fweet Sprites, the burthen bear.

Burthen, difperfedly.

Hark, bark, bough-waugh: the watch-dogs bark,

Baugh waugh.

Ari. Hark, bark, I hear

The ftrain of frutting chanticlere

Cry, Cock-a-doodle-do.

Fer. Where should this mufick be, i'th' air, or earth ?— It founds no more: and, fure, it waits upon Some God o' th' Ifland. Sitting on a bank, Weeping against the King my father's wreck, This mufick crept by me upon the waters; Allaying both their fury and my paffion, With its fweet air; thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather-but 'tis gone. No, it begins again.

ARIEL'S SONG.

Full fathom five thy father lies,

Of his bones are coral made:

Thofe

Thofe are pearls, that were his eyes;
Nothing of him, that doth fade,
But doth fuffer a fea-change,
Into fomething rich and frange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell.

Hark, now I hear them, ding-dong, bell.

[Burthen: ding-dong.

Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father;
This is no mortal bufinefs, nor no found

That the earth owns: I hear it now above me.
Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eyes advance,
And fay, what thou feeft yond.

Mira. What is't, a spirit?

Lord, how it looks about! believe me, Sir,
It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.

Pro. No, wench, it eats, and fleeps, and hath such senses
As we have, fuch. This gallant, which thou feeft,
Was in the wreck: and, but he's fomething ftain'd
With grief, (that's beauty's canker) thou might'ft call

him

A goodly perfon. He hath loft his fellows,

And strays about to find 'em.

Mira. I might call him

A thing divine; for nothing natural

I ever faw fo noble.

Pro. It goes on, I fee,

[Afide.

As my foul prompts it. Spirit, fine fpirit, I'll free thee

Within two days for this.

Fer. Moft fure, the Goddess

On whom these ayres attend! vouchfafe, my pray'r
May know, if you remain upon this Island;
And that you will fome good inftruction give,
How I may bear me here: my prime request
(Which I do laft pronounce) is, O you wonder!
If you be made or no?

Mira. No wonder, Sir,
But certainly a maid.

Fer. My language! heav'ns!

I am the best of them that speak this fpeech,
Were I but where 'tis fpoken.

Pro.

Pro. How the best?

What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?
Fer. A fingle thing, as I am now, that wonders
To hear thee fpeak of Naples. He does hear me ;
And, that he does, I weep: my felf am Naples,
Who, with mine eyes (ne'er fince at ebb) beheld
The King my father wreckt.

Mira. Alack, for mercy!

Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords: the Duke of Milan, And his brave fon, being twain. (6)

Pro. The Duke of Milan,

And his more braver daughter, could controul thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't:-

-At the first fight,

They have chang'd eyes: (delicate Ariel,

I'll fet thee free for this.) A word, good Sir,
I fear, you've done your felf fome wrong: a word
Mira. Why fpeaks my father so ungently this
Is the third man, that I e'er faw; the firft,
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 power: but this swift bufiness

I muft uneafie make, left too light winning

Make the prize light. Sir, one word more; I charge thee,
That thou attend me: thou dost here ufurp
The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thy felf

Upon this Ifland, as a fpy, to win it

From me, the lord on't.

Fer. No, as I'm a man.

(6)

the Duke of Milan,

And his brave Son, being twain.] Here feems a flight Forgetfulness in our Poet: No Body was loft in this Wreck, as is manifeft from several Paffages: and yet we have no fuch Character introduc'd in the Fable, as the Duke of Milan's Son. No Doubt, in his first Plan he had mark'd out fuch a Character 3, but, on fecond Thought, found it unneceffary.

Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill spirit have so fair an house,

Good things will ftrive to dwell with 't.

Pro. Follow me

Speak not you for him: he's a traitor. Come,
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together;
Sea-water fhalt thou drink; thy food shall be

The fresh-brook muffels, wither'd roots, and husks
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 fword up, traitor,

Who mak'st a fhew, but dar'ft not ftrike; thy conscience

Is fo poffeft with guilt: come from thy ward,
For I can here difarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.

Mira. Befeech 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? huh!

Thou think'ft, there are no more fuch fhapes as he,
Having feen 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 moft humble: I have no ambition

To see a goodlier man.

Pro. Come on, obey;

Thy nerves are in their infancy again,

And have no vigour in them.

Fer.