That wrings mine eyes.' story Were most impertinent. That hour destroy us? Wherefore did they not Well demanded, wench; My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not; (So dear the love my people bore me) nor fet Bore us fome leagues to sea; where they pre par'd 6 A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us, 1 A fimilar thought occurs in Antony and Cleopatra, A& V. fc. i: it is a tidings " To wash the eyes of kings." STEEVENS. 1 $ That wrings mine eyes.) i. c. squeezes the water out of them. The old copy reads " That wrings mine eyes to't." To what? every reader will ask. I have therefore, by the advice of Dr. Farmer, omitted these words, which are unneceffary to the metre; hear, at the beginning of the next speech, being used as a diffyllable. To wring, in the sense I contend for, occurs in the Merry Wives of Windfor, A&. I. fc. ii : ، his cook, or his laundry, or his washer, and his wringer." STEEVENS. 1 To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to figh Did us but loving wrong. Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst fmile, Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck'd the sea with drops full falt; $ To cry to the Sea that roar'd to us;) This conceit occurs again in the Winter's Tale: " How the poor fouls roar'd, and the sea mock'd them," &c. STEEVENS. 9 deck'd the fea) To deck the fea, if explained, to honour, adorn, or dignify, is indeed ridiculous, but the original import of the verb deck is, to cover; so in some parts they yet say deck the table. This sense may be borne, but perhaps the poet wrote fleck'd, which I think is still used in rustic language of drops falling upon water. Dr. Warburton reads mock'd; the Oxford edition brack'd. JOHNSON. Verstegan, p. 61. speaking of Beer, fays, "So the overdecking or covering of beer came to be called berham, and afterwards barme." This very well supports Dr. Johnson's explanation. The following passage in Antony and Cleopatra may countenance the verb deck in its common acceptation: do not please sharp fate " To grace it with your forrows." What is this but decking it with tears; Again, our author's Caliban fays, Act III. fc. ii: He has brave utenfils, Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal." STEEVENS. To deck, I am told, signifies in the North, to Sprinkle. See Ray's DICT. of North Country words, in verb. to deg, and to decki and his DICT. of South Country words, in verb dag. The latter fignifies dew upon the grass; hence daggle-tailed. In Cole's Latin Pidionary, 1679, we find - To dag, collutulo, irroro." MALONE, A correspondent, who signs himself Ebaracenfis, proposes that this contested word should be printed degg'd, which, fays he, fignifies sprinkled, and is in daily use in the North of England. When cloaths that have been washed are too much dried, it is / Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up 2 Against what should ensue. MIRA. How came we afhore? PRO. By Providence divine. Some food we had, and some fresh water, that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity, (who being then appointed Master of this design,) did give us;' with neceffary to moisten them before they can be ironed, which is always done by Sprinkling; this operation the maidens universally call degging. REED. • An undergoing stomach.) Stomach is ftubborn refolution. Sa Horace, gravem Pelidæ ftomachum." STEEVENS. $ Some food we had, and some fresh water, that Out of his charity, (who being then appointed Master of this design,) did give us ;) Mr. Steevens has suggested, that we might better read he being then appointed; and so we should certainly now write; but the reading of the old copy is the true one, that mode of phraseology being the idiom of Shakspeare's time. So, in the Winter's Tale: And son unto the king, (whom heavens dire&ing, ) « Is troth-plight to your daughter." Again, in Coriolanus : waving thy hand, Which often, thus, correcting thy ftout heart, Now humble as the ripest mulberry, . That will not hold the handling; or, say to them," &e, MALONE. I have left the passage in question, as I found it, though with lender reliance on its integrity. What Mr. Malone has styled the idiom of Shakspeare's time," can scarce deserve so creditable a distincion. It should be remembered that the instances adduced by him in support of his position, are not from the early quartos which he prefers on the fcore of accuracy, but from the folio 1623, the inaccuracy of which, with equal judgment he has censured. The genuine idiom of our language, at its different periods, can only be ascertained by reference to contemporary writers whose ( so, of his gen Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, Which fince have steaded much tleness, Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me, From my own library, with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. MIRA. But ever fee that man ! 'Would I might Now I arife: works were skilfully revised as they passed through the press, and are therefore unsuspected of corruption. A sufficient number of fuch books are before us. If they supply examples of phraseology resembling that which Mr. Malone would establish, there is an end of controversy between us: Let, however, the disputed phrases be brought to their test before they are admitted; for I utterly refuse to accept the jargon of theatres and the mistakes of printers, as the idiom or grammar of the age in which Shakspeare wrote. Every gross departure from literary rules may be countenanced, if we are permitted to draw examples from vitiated pages; and our readers, as often as they meet with restorations founded on such authorities, may justly exclaim, with Othello, ،، Chaos is come again." STEEVENS. 4 Now I arife:) Why does Prospero arife? Or, if he does it to ease himself by change of pofsture, why need he interrupt his narrative to tell his daughter of it? Perhaps these words belong to Miranda, and we should read; Mir. Would I might But ever fee that man ! - Now I arife. Profpero, in p. 13. had directed his daughter to fit down, and learn the whole of this history; having previoufly by fome magical charm disposed her to fall asleep. He is watching the progress of this charm; and in the mean time tells her a long story, often asking her whether her attention be still awake. The story being ended (as Miranda supposes) with their coming on shore, and partaking of the conveniences provided for them by the loyal humanity of Gonzalo, the therefore first expresses a wish to fee the good old man, and then obferves that the may now arife, as the story is done. Profpero, surprised that his charm does not yet work, bids her fit ftill; and then enters on fresh matter to amuse the time, telling her (what the knew before) that he had been her 1 Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-forrow. MIRA. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, fir, (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, 7 8 tutor, &c. But foon perceiving her drowsiness coming on, he breaks off abruptly, and leaves her ftill fitting to her slumbers. BLACKSTONE. As the words now I arife" may fignify, now I rise in my narration." now my story heightens in its consequence," I have left the passage in question, undisturbed. We still say, that the interest of a drama rises or declines. STEEVENS. 5 - princes-) The first folio reads, Corrected by Mr. Rowe. MALONE. princeffe. HENLEY. 6 Now my dear lady,) i. e. now my auspicious mistress. STEEVENS. I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star; whose influence If now I court not, but omit, &c.) So, in Julius Cæfar: "There is a tide in the affairs of man, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life ، Is bound in shallows and in miseries." MALONE. 'tis a good dulness,) Dr. Warburton rightly observes, that this fleepiness, which Prospero by his art had brought upon Miranda, and of which he knew not how foon the effect would begin, makes him question her so often whether she is attentive to his story. JOHNSON, |