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utensils and implements broken to pieces, and a fantastic figure in the midst bearing a scroll with the words,

" Doboop is my name

that begreth eberg bodges blame."
" Many speke of Roben Hoode that never sbott in his bowe,

So many have layed faultes to me, which I did never knowe;
But now beholde here I am,
Whom all the worlde doeth diffame
Long hath they also skorned me,
And locked my mouthe for speking free.
As many a Godly man they have so served,
Which unto them Gods truth hath shewed;
of such they have burned and hanged simme,
That unto their ydolatrye wold not come:
The ladye Truthe they have locked in cage,
Sayeng that of her Nobody had knowledge,
For as much nowe as they name Nobodye,
I think verilye they speke of me:
Wherfore to answere. I nowe beginne,
The locke of my mouthe is opened with ginne,
Wrought by no man, but by Gods grace,
Unto whom te prayse in every place."

(2) SCENE II.-I would I could see this taborer!] "Severa. of the incidents in this scene," Steevens remarks, “viz.Ariel's mimickry of Trinculo, the tune played on the tabor, and Caliban's description of the twangling instruments, &c., might have been borrowed from Marco Paolo, the old Venetian voyager ; who, in lib. I. ch. 44, describing the desert of Lop, in Asia, says :- Audiuntur ibi voces dæmonum, &c. voces fingentes eorum quos comitari se putant. Audiuntur interdum in aere concentus musicorum instrumentorum.'” This work was translated into English by John Frampton in 1579, under the title of “The Most Noble and famous Travels of Marcus Paulus, one of the Nobilitie of the State of Venice," &c., and the above passage is rendered :-“You shall heare in the ayre the sound of tabers and other instruments, to put the travellers in feare, &c., by evill spirites that make these soundes, and also do call diverse of the travellers by their names," &e. ch. 36, p. 32


(1) SCENE I.

1 -was doubtless effected by the agency of filmy curtains And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,

which, being drawn one over another to resemble the flying

mists, gave to the scene an appearance of gradual dissol Leave not a rack behind.) ·

tion ; when the objects were totally hidden, the drapery It is impossible to doubt that Shakespeare in this sublime was withdrawn in the same manner, veil by veil, till at passage remembered the lines in Lord Sterline's "Tragedie length even that too had disappeared and there was left, of Darius," 1604:

then, not even a rack behind. “Let greatnesse of her glascie scepters vaunt,

(2) SCENE I.-Come, hang them on this line.) Mr. Hunter Not sceptors, no, but reeds, soone brus'd, soone broken ; And let this worldlie pompe out wits inchant,

successfully exposed the error of those editors who deemned All fades, and scarcelie leaves behinde a token.

it necessary to change the old spelling of line-grove." to Those golden pallaces, those gorgeous halles,

lime-grove;" see note (a), p. 41 ; but to our thinking he With fourniture superfluouslie faire :

has committed a graver mistake than theirs in his ingeThose statelie courts, those sky-encountring walles,

nious endeavour to prove that the “line" in this passage Evanish all like vapours in the aire."

meant a line-tree ;- "When," he observes, “ Prospero says With regard to the disputed word, “rack," which some to Ariel, who comes in bringing the glittering apparel, editors, Mr. Dyce among them, conceive to be no more 'Come, hang them on this line,' he means on one of the than an old form of wreck, the reader is recommended to con | line-trees near his cell, which could hardly have been it sult Whiter's “Specimen of a Commentary on Shakspeare,” the word of the original copies, line-grove, had been allowed &c., pp. 194-198, and Horne Tooke's Enea llrepvevra, Vol. to keep its place. But the ear having long been familiar II. pp. 389-396. To what those writers have said on the with lime-grove, the word suggested not the branches of a subject we have only to add, that while it is evident that tree so-called, but a cord-line, and, accordingly, when the by rack was understood the drifting vapour, or scud as it play is represented, such a line is actually drawn across the is now termed, it would appear that Shakespeare, in the stage, and the glittering apparel is hung upon it. Anything present instance, as in another, occurring in “Antony and more remote from poetry than this can scarcely be imeCleopatra," Act IV. Sc. 12,

gined."-Disquisition on Shakespeare's Tempest.

However unpoetic, and perhaps, as Mr. Knight has re" That which is now a horse, even with a thought

marked, the incidents of the scene so far as the drunken The rack dislimns,” &c.

butler and his companion are concerned were purposely -was thinking not more of the actual clouds than of those rendered so, it is hardly possible to conceive that the gauzy semblances which, in the pageants of his day as in

coarse jesting,_“Mistress line, is not this my jerkin? the stage-spectacles of ours, were often used partly or totally

Now is the ierkin under the line: now. jerkin. vou are like to obscure the scene behind. Ben Jonson, in the descrip. to lose your hair, and prove a bald jerkin;" and, tions of his masques, very frequently mentions this scenic

- "we steal by line and level,&c. contrivance. Thus in his “ Entertainment at Theobalds:" _"The King and Queen, with the princes of Wales and

could have been provoked by, or indeed would have been Lorrain, and the nobility, being entered into the gallery

applicable to any other object than the familiar horse-hair after dinner, there was seen nothing but a traverse of white

line which was formerly used to hang clothes on. across the room; which suddenly drawn, was discovered a gloomy obscure place, hung all with black silks,&c. Again, (3) SCENE I.-And all be turn'd to barnacles.] It was in his “Masque of Hymen : "_"At this, the whole scene anciently believed that the barnacle shell-fish, which is being drawn again, and all covered with clouds, as at night, found on timber exposed to the action of the sea, became, they left off their intermixed dances, and returned to their when broken off, a kind of goose. Some, indeed, supposed first places." .

that the barnacles actually grew on trees, and thence dropThe evanishing of the actors, then, in Prospero's pageant ping into the sea, became geese ; and an interesting cut of -who

these birds so growing, from a MS. of the fourteenth cen“Melted into air, into thin air,"

tury, is given by Mr. Halliwell, who observes that “the barnacle mentioned by Caliban was no doubt the tree. | Maundeville, who declares that in his country “— weren goose ; and the true absurdity of our old writers, as Douce trees that beren a fruyt, that become briddes fleeynge; has observed, consisted in their believing that this bird and tho that fellen into the water, lyven; and thei that was really produced from the shell of the fish.” Innu fallen on the erthe, dyen anon : and thei ben right gode merable allusions to this vulgar error occur in our old to mannes mete." writers, but we will adduce only the testimony of Sir John


Our Sorcerie dimmes the Morning faire, and darks the Sun at

The flaming breath of fierie Bulles ye quenched for my sake,
And caused their unwieldy neckes the bended yoke to take.
Among the earth-bred brothers you a mortal warre did set,
And brought asleepe the Dragon fell, whose eyes were never

GOLDING's Ovid, lib. 7, 1567.

(1) SCENE I.-By my so potent art.] This speech is founded upon the invocation of Medea in Ovid's Metamorphoses, for which it is evident, from several expressions, that Shakespeare consulted Golding's translation : “ Ye Ayres and Windes, ye Elves of Hilles, of Brookes, of Woods

alone, Of standing Lakes, and of the Night, approch ye everychone. Through helpe of whom (the crooked bankes much wondring at

the thing) I have compelled streames to "un cleane backward to their spring. By charmes I make the calu. seas rough, and make the rough

seas playne,
And cover all the Skie with clouds, and chase them thence

By charmes I raise and lay the windes, and burst the Viper's jaw,
And from the bowels of the earth both stones and trees do draw.
Whole woods and Forests I remoove, I make the Mountaines

And even the earth it selfe to grone and fearefully to quake.
I call up deud men from their graves, and thee, o lightsome

I darken oft, though beaten brass abate thy perill soone:

(2) SCENE I.- Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.) The beautiful fancy in the second line of Ariel's song,

" In a cowslip's bell I lie," was once supposed to have been borrowed from a stanza in Drayton's delicious “ Nimphidia :"

“ At midnight the appointed hour;

And for the queen a fitting bower,
Quoth he, is that fair cowslip-flower

On Hip-cut hill that bloweth."
It is now, however, generally believed that “Nimphidia,'.
which was not printed before 1627, was written subse-
quently to “ The Tempest;” Malone thinks in 1612.


“It is observed of “The Tempest,' that its plan is regular. This the author of The Revisal' thinks, what I think too, an accidental effect of the story, not intended or regarded by our author. But whatever might be Shakespeare's intention in forining or adopting the plot, he has made it instrumental to the production of many characters, diversified with boundless invention, and preserved with profound skill in nature, extensive knowledge of opinions, and accurat+ observation of life. In a single drama are here exhibited princes, courtiers, and sailors, all speaking in their real characters. There is the agency of airy spirits, and of an earthly goblin ; the operations of inagick; the tumults of a storm, the adventures of a desart island, the native effusion of untaught affection, the punishment of guilt, and the final happiness of the pair for whom our passions and reason are equally interested."-JOHNSON.

“ The Tempest,' according to all appearance, was written in Shakspeare's later days : hence most critics, on the supposition that the poet must have continued to improve with increasing maturity of mind, have honoured this piece with a marked preference over the Midsummer Night's Dream. I cannot, however, altogether concur with them : the internal merit of these two works are, in my opinion, pretty nearly balanced, and a predilection for the one or the other can only be governed by personal taste. In profound and original characterisation, the superiority of. The Tempest' is obvious : as a whole we must always admire the masterly skill which he has here displayed in the economy of his means, and the dexterity with which he has disguised his preparations,—the scaffoldings for the wonderful aërial structure.

“The Tempest'has little action or progressive movement; the union of Ferdinand and Miranda is settled at their first interview, and Prospero merely throws apparent obstacles in their way; the shipwrecked band go leisurely about the island; the attempts of Sebastian and Antonio on the life of the King of Naples, and the plot of Caliban and the drunken sailors against Prospero, are nothing but a feint, for we foresee that they will be completely frustrated by the magical skill of the latter ; nothing remains therefore but the punishment of the guilty by dreadful sights which harrow up their consciences, and then the discovery and final reconciliation. Yet this want of movement is so admirably concealed by the most varied display of the fascinations of poetry, and the exhilaration of mirth, the details of the execution are so very attractive, that it requires no small degree of attention to perceive that the dénouement is, in some degree, anticipated in the exposition. The history of the loves of Ferdinand and Miranda, developed in a few short scenes, is enchantingly beautiful : an affecting unior of chivalrous magnanimity on the one part, and on the other of the virgin openness of a heart which, brought up far from the world on an uninhabited island, has never learned to disguise its innocent movements. The wisdom of the princely hermit Prospero has a magical and mysterious air ; the disagreeable impression left by the black falsehood of the two usurpers is softened by the honest gossiping of the old and faithful Gonzalo; Trinculo and Stephano, two good-for-nothing drunkards, find a worthy associate in Caliban ; and Ariel hovers sweetly over the whole as the personified genius of the wonderful fable.

“Caliban has become a by-word as the strange creation of a poetical imagination. A mixture of gnome and savage, half demon, half brute, in his behaviour we perceive at once the traces of his native disposition, and the influence of Prospero's education. The latter could only unfold his understanding, without, in the slightest degree, taming his rooted malignity: it is as if the use of reason and human speech were communicated to an awkward ape. In inclination Caliban is malicious, cowardly, false, and base ; and yet he is essentially different from the vulgar knaves of a civilized world, as portrayed occasionally by Shakspeare. He is rude, but not vulgar; he never falls into the prosaic and low familiarity of his drunken associates, for he is, in his way, a poetical being; he always speaks in verse. He has picked up everything dissonant and thorny in language to compose out of it a vocabulary of his own; and of the whole variety of nature, the hateful, repulsive, and pettily deformed, have alone been impressed on his imagination. The magical world of spirits, which the staff of Prospero has assembled on the island, casts merely a faint reflection into his mind, as a ray of light which falls into a dark cave, incapable of communicating to it either heat or illumination, serves merely to set in motion the poisonous vapours. The delineation of this monster is throughout inconceivably consistent and profound, and, notwithstanding its hatefulness, by no means hurtful to our feelings, as the honour of human nature is left untouched.

“In the zephyr-like Ariel, the image of air is not to be mistaken, his name even bears an allusion to it; as, on the other hand, Caliban signifies the heavy element of earth. Yet they are neither of them simple, allegorical personifications, but beings individually determined. In general we find in the • Midsummer Night's Dream,' in “The Tempest, in the magical part of Macbeth, and wherever Shakspeare avails himself of the popular belief in the invisible presence of spirits, and the possibility of coming in contact with them, a profound view of the inward life of nature and her mysterious springs, which, it is true, can never be altogether unknown to the genuine poet, as poetry is altogether incompatible with mechanical physics, but which few have possessed in an equal degree with Dante ænd himself."-SCHLEGEL.

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