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THE

TEMPEST.

ACTI. SCENE I.

On a Ship at Sea.

A tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning beard; Enter a Ship-mafter, and a Boatswain.

B

Oatfwain.

MASTER.

Boats. Here, Mafter: what cheer? Maft. Good, fpeak to th' mariners fall to't yarely, or we run our felves a-ground; beftir, beftir.

Enter Mariners.

[Exit.

Boats. Hey, my hearts; cheerly, my hearts; yare, yare; take in the top-fail; tend to th' master's whistle; blow, 'till thou burst thy wind, if room enough.

Enter

1 The Tempeft.] These two firft Plays, the Tempest and the Midfummer-night's Dream, are the nobleft Efforts of that fublime and amazing Imagination, peculiar to Shakespear, which foars above the Bounds of Nature without forfaking Senfe: or, more properly, carries Nature along with him beyond her established Limits. Fletcher feems particularly to have admired these two

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Enter Alonfo, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinand,
Gonzalo, and others.

Alon. Good Boatfwain, have care: where's the mafter? play the men.

Boats. I pray now, keep below.

Ant. Where is the mafter, boatswain ?

Boats. Do you not hear him? you mar our labour; keep your cabins; you do affift the storm.

Gonz. Nay, good, be patient.

Boats. When the fea is. Hence

what care these Roarers for the name of King? to cabin; filence; trouble us not.

"

Gonz. Good, yet remember whom thou haft aboard. Boats. None, that I more love than my self. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to filence, and work the peace o'the prefent, we will not hand a rope more; ufe your authority. If you cannot, give thanks you have liv'd fo long, and make your felf ready in your cabin for the mifchance of the hour, if it fo hap. Cheerly, good hearts: out of our way, I fay.

[Exit.

Gonz. I have great comfort from this fellow; methinks, he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good fate, to his hanging; make the rope of his deftiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage: if he be not born to be hang'd, our cafe is miferable. [Exeunt.

Plays, and hath wrote two in Imitation of them, the Sea-voyage and the Faithful Shepherdefs. But when he prefumes to break a Lance with Shakespear, and write in emulation of him, as he does in the Falfe one, which is the Rival of Anthony and Cleopatra, he is not fo fuccefsful. After him, Sir John Suckling and Milton catched the brighteft Fire of their Imagination from these two Plays; which fhines fantastically indeed, in the Goblins, but much more nobly and ferenely in The Mask at Ludlow-Cafile.

Re-enter

Re-enter Boatfwain.

Boats. Down with the top-mast: yare, lower, lower; bring her to try with main-courfe. A plague upon this howling!

A cry within. Re-enter Sebastian, Anthonio, and

Gonzalo.

they are louder than the weather, or our office. Yet again? what do you here? fhall we give o'er, and drown? have you a mind to fink?

Seb. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blafphemous, uncharitable dog.

Boats. Work you then.

Ant. Hang, cur, hang; you whorefon, infolent, noifemaker; we are lefs afraid to be drown'd than thou art.

Gonz. I'll warrant him from drowning, tho the ship were no stronger than a nut-fhell, and as leaky as an unftanch'd wench.

Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; fet her two courfes off to fea again, lay her off.

Enter Mariners wet.

Mar. All loft! to prayers! to prayers! all loft! [Exe. Boats. What, muft our mouths be cold?

Gonz. The King and Prince at pray'rs! let us affift 'em.

For our cafe is as theirs.

Seb. I'm out of patience.

[kards.

Ant. We're meerly cheated of our lives by drunThis wide-chopt rascal—'Would, thou might'st lye drowning,

The washing of ten tides !

Gonz. He'll be hang'd yet,

Though every drop of water fwear against it,

And gape at wid'ft to glut him.

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 thoufand 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!

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[Exit.

Changes to a Part of the Inchanted Island near the

3

Cell of Profpero..

Enter Profpero and Miranda.

Mira. 'IF by your art (my dearest father)_you

have

Put the wild Waters in this roar, allay them:

The sky, it feems, would pour down ftinking pitch,
But that the fea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O! I have fuffer'd

With those that I faw fuffer: a brave veffel
(Who had, no doubt, some noble creatures in her)
Dafh'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 should the good ship so have swallow'd, and
The fraighting fouls within her.

" 2 long beatb, ] This is the common name 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 4 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 veffel

down;

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

Mira. You have often

Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt,

4 The very Virtue of compaffion 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 sense or apprehenfion of the like. And then it is Sympathy, not Virtue. Tho' the want of it may be efteemed 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 Compaffion.

B 4

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