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A confufed noife within.] Mercy on us!

We fplit, we fplit! Farewel, my Wife and Children! Brother, farewel! we fplit, we fplit, we split!

Ant. Let's all fink with the King.

Seb. Let's take leave of him.

[Exit.

[Exit.

Gonz. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of fea for an acre of barren ground, 2 long heath, brown furze, any thing; the wills above be done, but I would fain die a dry death!

SCENE II.

[Exit.

Changes to a Part of the Inchanted Island near the Cell of Profpero.

Enter Profpero and Miranda.

3 F by your art (my dearest father) you

Mira. 'IF

have

Put the wild Waters in this roar, allay them:
The sky, it seems, would pour down ftinking pitch,
But that the fea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek,
Dafhes the fire out. O! I have fuffer'd

With those that I faw fuffer: a brave vessel
(Who had, no doubt, fome noble creatures in her)
Dash'd all to pieces. O the cry did knock
Against my very heart: poor fouls, they perifh'd!
Had I been any God of Pow'r, I would
Have funk the fea within the earth; or ere
It fhould the good fhip fo have fwallow'd, and
The fraighting fouls within her.

2 long heath,] This is the common tame for the erica baccifera; which the Oxford Editor not understanding, conjectured that Shakespear wrote, Ling, Heath: But, unluckily, Heath and Ling are but two words for the fame plant.

3 If by your Art, &c.] Nothing was ever better contrived to inform the Audience of the Story than this Scene. It is a converfation that could not have happened before, and could not but happen now.

Pro.

Pro. Be collected;

No more amazement; tell your piteous heart,
There's no harm done.

Mira. O wo the day!

Pro. No harm.

I have done nothing but in care of thee,
(Of thee my dear one, thee my daughter) who
Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing
Of whence I am; nor that I am more better
Than Profpero, mafter of a full-poor cell,
And thy no greater father.

Mira. More to know

Did never meddle with my thoughts.
Pro. 'Tis time,

I fhould inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magick garment from me: fo!
[Lays down his mantle.
Lye there my Art. Wipe thou thine eyes, have

comfort.

The direful fpectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
The very virtue of compaffion in thee,

I have with fuch provifion in mine art

So fafely order'd, that there's no foul loft,
No, not fo much perdition as an hair,
Betid to any creature in the vessel

down;

Which thou heard'ft cry, which thou faw'ft fink: fit For thou must now know farther.

Mira. You have often

Begun to tell me what I am, but ftopt,

4 The very Virtue of compassion in thee,] We must not think that the very Virtue was intended to fhew the degree of her compaffion, but the kind. Compaffion for other's Misfortunes ofteneft arifes from a fenfe or apprehenfion of the like. And then it is Sympathy, not Virtue. Tho' the want of it may be cfteemed vicious as arifing from a degeneracy of Nature, which cannot happen but by our own fault. Now the Compaffion of Miranda, who never ventured to Sea, not being of this kind, Shakespear with great propriety calls it the very Virtue, i. e. the real pure Virtue of Compation.

B 4

And

And left me to a bootless inquifition;
Concluding, Stay; not yet.

Pro. The hour's now come.

The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
Obey, and be attentive. Canft thou remember
A time, before we came unto this cell?

I do not think, thou canft; for then thou waft not
Out three years old.

Mira. Certainly, Sir, I can.

Pro. By what? by any other house, or person?
Of any thing the image tell me, that
Hath kept in thy remembrance.

Mira. 'Tis far off;

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And rather like a dream, than an affurance
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
Four, or five, women once, that tended me?

Pro. Thou hadft, and more, Miranda: but how is it,
That this lives in thy mind? what feeft thou elfe
In the dark back-ward and abyfme of time?
If thou remember'ft aught,. ere thou cam'ft here;
How thou cam'ft here, thou may'st.

Mira. But that I do not.

Pro. 'Tis twelve years fince, Miranda; twelve years fince,

Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and

A Prince of Pow'r.

Mira. Sir, are not you my father?

Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and

She faid, thou waft my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir

A Princefs, no worfe iffu'd.

Mira. O the heav'ns!

What foul play had we, that we came from thence? Or bleffed was't, we did?

Pro. Both, both, my girl:

By foul play (as thou fay'ft) were we heav'd thence; But bleffedly help'd hither.

Mira. O, my heart bleeds

To think o'th' teene that I have turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.
Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Anthonio----
pray thee, mark me; — (that a brother should
Be fo perfidious!) he whom next thy felf
Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put
The manage of my ftate; (as, at that time,
Through all the fignories it was the first;
And Profpero the prime Duke, being fo reputed
h dignity; and for the liberal arts,

Without a parallel; thofe being all my study :)
The government I caft upon my brother,

And to my state grew ftranger; being transported,
And rapt in fecret ftudies. Thy falfe uncle-
Doft thou attend me?)

Mira. Sir, moft heedfully.

Pro. Being once perfected how to grant fuits,
How to deny them; whom t'advance, and whom
To trash for over-topping; new-created

The creatures, that were mine; I fay, or chang'd 'em,
Or elfe new form'd 'em; having both the key
Of officer and office, fet all hearts i'th' state
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.

Mira. Good Sir, I do.

Pro. I pray thee, mark me then.

[not. Thou attend'st

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

5 To trash] fignifies to cut away the trash or fuperfluities; as, to top, fignifies, to cut off the top. The Oxford Editor alters it to plaf, not confidering that to plab fignifies to bind and complicate branches together, and fo is only used to fignify the dreffing and pleating of an Hedge.

Awak'd

Awak'd an evil nature; and my trust,
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, unto truth, by telling oft,
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

6

like one

Who having INTO truth by telling of it,

Made fuch a Sinner of his memory,

To credit his own lie.] The corrupted reading of the Second line has rendered this beautiful Similitude quite unintelligible. For what is [having into truth]? or what doth [it] refer to? not te [truth], because if he told truth he could never credit a lie. And yet there is no other correlative to which [it] can belong.

I read and point it thus,

like one

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i.e. by often repeating the fame Story, made his memory fuch a Sinner unto truth as to give credit to his own lie. A miferable delufion to which Story-tellers are frequently fubje&t. The Oxford Editor having, by this Correction, been let into the Senfe of the Paffage, gives us this Senfe in his own Words,

Who loving an untruth, and telling't oft,
Makes

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