man i'th' moon?-a moft poor credulous monfter; well drawn, monfter, in good footh. Cal. I'll fhew thee every fertile inch o' th' Ifle, and I will kifs thy foot: I pr'ythee, be my god. Trin. By this light, a moft perfidious and drunken monfter; when his god's afleep, he'll rob his bottle. Cal. I'll kifs thy foot. I'll fwear my self thy fubject. Ste. Come on then; down, and swear. Trin. I fhall laugh my felf to death at this puppyheaded monster: a moft fcurvy monfter! I could find in my heart to beat him Ste. Come, kifs. Trin. But that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable monfter! Cal. I'll fhew thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries, I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I ferve! I'll bear him no more fticks, but follow thee, Trin. A moft ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard. Cal. I pry'thee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; Shew thee a jay's neft, and inftruct thee how To fnare the nimble marmazet; I'll bring thee To cluft'ring filberds, and fometimes I'll get thee (19) Young Shamois from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? Ste. I pr'ythee now, lead the way without any more (19) Young Scamels from the Rock.] I can no where elfe meet with fuch a Word as Scamel, which has poffefs'd all the Editions. Shakespeare muft certainly either have wrote Shamois (as Mr. Warburton and I have both conjectur'd) i. e. young Kids: or Sea-malls. The Sea-mall, or Seamell, or Sea-mew (according to Willoughby,) is that Bird, which is call'd Larus cinereus minor; it feeds upon Fish, and frequents the Banks of Lakes. It is not impoffible, but our Poet might here intend this Bird. Or, again, (and which comes near to Scamel, in the Traces of the Letters.) Ray tells us of another Bird, call'd the Stannel, (the fame with the Tinnunculus among the Latins, and xeyyeis amongst the Greeks;) of the Hawk Species. It is no Matter which of the three Readings we embrace, fo we take a Word fignifying the Name of fomething in Nature. D 4 talking talking. Trinculo, the King and all our company elfe being drown'd, we will inherit here. Here, bear my bottle; fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again. Cal. [Sings drunkenly.] Farewel, mafter; farewel, farewel Trin. A howling monfter; a drunken monster, Nor fcrape trencher, nor wash dish, Has a new mafter, get a new man. Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey day, freedom! Ste. O brave monster, lead the way. [Exeunt, A C T III. SCENE, before Profpero's Cell T Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log. FERDINAND. HERE be fome sports are painful, but their labour Delight in them fets off: fome kinds of baseness The miftrefs, which I ferve, quickens what's dead, Bur But these sweet thoughts do ev'n refresh my labour, Enter Miranda; and Profpero, at a distance unseen, Work not fo hard; I would the lightning had Fer. O moft dear mistress, The fun will fet, before I fhall discharge Mira. If you'll fit down, I'll bear your logs the while. Pray give me that, Fer. No, precious creature, I'ad rather crack my finews, break my back, Than fhould fuch difhonour undergo, you While I fit lazy by. Mira. It would become me, As well as it does you; and I fhould do it Pro. Poor worm! thou art infected; This vifitation fhews it. Mira. You look wearily. Fer. No, noble miftrefs; 'tis fresh morning with me, When you are by at night. I do beseech you, (Chiefly that I might fet it in my prayers) What is your name? (20) Leaft bufie when I do it.] This Reading, I prefume, to be Mr. Pope's; for I do not find it authoriz'd by the Copies: The two firft Folio's read; Moft busy leaft, when I do it. 'Tis true, this Reading is corrupt; but the Corruption is fo very little remov'd from the Truth of the Text, that I can't afford to think well of my own Sagacity for having difcover'd it. Mira. Miranda. O my father, I've broke your heft to fay fo. Fer. Admir'd Miranda! Indeed, the top of admiration; worth Mira. I do not know One of my fex; no woman's face remember, Fer. I am, in my condition, A Prince, Miranda; I do think, a King; The flesh-flie blow my mouth. Hear my foul fpeak; The very inftant that I faw you, did My heart fly to your fervice, there refides To make me flave to it, and for your fake Mira. Do you love me? Fer. O heav'n, O earth, bear witness to this found, And crown what I profess with kind event, If I fpeak true; if hollowly, invert Mira. I am a fool, To weep at what I'm glad of. Pro. Fair encounter Of two moft rare affections! heav'ns rain grace, Fer. Wherefore weep you? Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer, The bigger bulk it fhews. Hence, bashful cunning, I am your wife, if you will marry me; If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow Fer. My miftrefs, dearest, Mira. My husband then? Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e'er of freedom; here's my hand. Mira. And mine, with my heart in't; and now fare wel, Till half an hour hence. Fer. A thousand, thousand. Pro. So glad of this as they, I cannot be, Who are furpriz'd withal; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I'll to my book, For yet, ere fupper-time muft I perform Much bufinefs appertaining. [Exeunt. [Exit. SCENE |