Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me Mira. Would I might But ever fee that man! 9 Pro. Now, I arife: Sit ftill, and hear the laft of our fea-forrow. Have I, thy school-mafter, made thee more profit Mira. Heav'ns thank you for't! And now, I pray you, Sir, (For still 'tis beating in my mind) your reason For raising this fea-storm? Pro. Know thus far forth, By accident most strange, bountiful fortune [Miranda Лleeps. Come away, fervant, come; I'm ready now: Approach, my Ariel. Come. 9 Pro. Now I arife:] i. e. now I come to the principal part of my Story, for the fake of which I told the foregoing; namely this, that I have now my Enemies in my Power; and if I omit this Opportunity, I fhall never have another to recover my Dukedom. The word is used to usher in a matter of importance. So Richard III. when he comes to the murder of his Nephews, fays to Tirrel, Rife, and lend an ear. SCENE SCEN E III. Enter Ariel. Ari. All hail, great master! grave Sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure: Be't to fly; To fwim; to dive into the fire; to ride On the curl'd clouds: to thy ftrong bidding task Pro. Haft thou, Spirit, Perform'd to point the tempeft that I bad thee? I boarded the King's fhip: now on the beak, And fight out-running were not; the fire and cracks Pro. My brave, brave spirit! Who was fo firm, fo conftant, that this coyl Ari. Not a foul But felt a feaver of the mind, and plaid Some tricks of defperation: all, but mariners, Pro. Why, that's my Spirit! Ari. :Close by, my Master. On their fuftaining garments not a blemish, Pro. Of the King's fhip The mariners, fay how thou haft difpos'd, Ari. Safely in harbour Is the King's fhip; in the deep nook, where once Who, with a charm join'd to their fuffered labour, Bound fadly home for Naples; Suppofing, that they faw the King's ship wreckt, Pro. Ariel, thy charge From the fill-vext Bermoothes,] Theobald fays Bermoothes is printed by mistake for Bermudas. No. That was the name by which the Iflands then went, as we may fee by the Voyagers of that time; and by our Author's contemporary Poets. Fletcher, in his Woman pleafed, fays, The Devil fhould think of purchafing that Eggshell to victual out a Witch for the Bermoothes. Smith, in his account of these Islands p. 172. fays, that the Bermudas were fo fearful to the world, that many call'd them the Ifle of Devils. ~P. 174. —to all Seamen no less terrible than an inchanted den of Furies. And no wonder, for the clime was extremely fubject to Storms and Hurricanes; and the Islands were furrounded with fcattered Rocks lying fhallowly hid under the Surface of the Water. Exactly Exactly is perform'd ; but there's more work: Ari. Paft the mid feason, at least two glasses. Muft by us both be spent most preciously. Ari. Is there more toil; fince thou doft give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou haft promis'd, Pro. How now? moody? Ari. My liberty. Pro. Before the time be out? no more. Remember, I have done thee worthy service; Pro. Doft thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? Ari. No. [ooze Pro. Thou doft; and think'ft it much to tread the Of the falt deep; To run upon the fharp Wind of the North; To do me business in the veins o'th' earth, When it is bak'd with froft. Ari. I do not, Sir. Pro. Thou ly'ft, malignant thing! haft thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy 2 Pro. What is the time o'th' day? Ari. Paft the mid feafon. Pro. At least two glaffes. In this reading, both the Queftion and the Anfwer are made impertinently. Profpero asks what time of day it was, when he knew it was two glaffes paft the mid feafon; And Ariel replies indefinitely, that it was paft the mid season. The Question and Reply fhould be divided thus, Pro. What is the time o'th' day? Was Was grown into a hoop? haft thou forgot her? Ari. No, Sir. [tell me. Pro. Thou haft: where was fhe born? fpeak; Ari. Sir, in Argier. Pro. Oh, was she fo? I muft Once in a month recount what thou hast been, Thou know'ft, was banifh'd: for one thing fhe did, [child, A dozen years, within which space the dy'd, A freckled whelp, hag-born) not honour'd with Ari. Yes; Caliban her fon. Pro. Dull thing, I fay fo: he, that Caliban, Whom now I keep in fervice. Thou best know'ft, What torment I did find thee in; thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breafts Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not again undo: it was mine art, When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape The |