How thou haft met us here, who three hours fince Pro. I'm woe for't, Sir. Alon. Irreparable is the lofs, and Patience Says, it is past her cure. Pro. I rather think, You have not fought her help; of whofe foft grace, For the like lofs, I have her fov'reign aid, And reft my self content. Alon. You the like lofs? Pro. As great to me, as late; and, fupportable Alon. A daughter? O heav'ns! that they were living both in Naples, Where my fon lies. When did you lofe your daughter? That they devour their reason; and fcarce think, That I am Profp'ro, and that very Duke Which was thruft forth of Milan; who moft ftrangely Not a relation for a breakfast, nor Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, Sir; SCENE SCENE opens to the Entrance of the Cell, Here Profpero difcovers Ferdinand and Miranda Mira. SWEET lord, you play me falle, Fer. No, my dear love, I would not for the world. Mira. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle, And I would call it fair play. Alon. If this prove A vifion of the island, one dear fon Shall I twice lofe. Seb. A moft high miracle! Fer. Though the feas threaten, they are merciful : I've curs'd them without caufe. Alon. Now all the bleffings Of a glad father compass thee about! [Ferd. kneels, How many goodly creatures are there here? How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, Pro. 'Tis new to thee. Alon. What is this maid, with whom thou waft at play? Your eld❜ft acquaintance cannot be three hours: Is the the goddess that hath fever'd us,, And brought us thus together? Fer. Sir, fhe's mortal; But, by immortal providence, fhe's mine. Alon. I am hers; But, oh, how odly will it found, that Į Pro Pro. There, Sir, ftop; Let us not burthen our remembrance with An heaviness that's gone. Gon. I've inly wept, Or fhould have fpoke ere this. Look down, you Gods, And on this couple drop a bleffed crown: For it is you, that have chalk'd forth the way, Alon. I fay, Amen, Gonzalo! Gon. Was Milan thruft from Milan, that his iffue Alon. Give me your hands: Let grief and forrow ftill embrace his heart, Gon. Be't fo, Amen! Enter Ariel, with the Mafter and Boatswain amazedly following. O look, Sir, look, Sir, here are more of us! This fellow could not drown. Now, blafphemy, Boats. The best news is, that we have fafely found Our King and company, the next, our fhip, Which but three glaffes fince we gave out fplit, Is tight and yare, and bravely rigg'd, as when We first put out to fea. Ari. Sir, all this service Have I done fince I went. Pro. My tricksey spirit! Alon. These are not natural events; they ftrengthen, From ftrange to ftranger. Say, how came you hither? F 4 Boatf Boatf. If I did think, Sir, I were well awake, Ari. Was't well done? Pro. Bravely, my diligence; thou shalt be free. Pro. Sir, my Liege, Do not infeft your mind with beating on Untie the spell. How fares my gracious Sir? (33) Where we, in all our Trim, freshly beheld Our royal, good and gallant Ship;] What was their Trim, would the Editors have us conceive? The Fright that they had been put into, by the Diverfity of Noifes? But, as Dr. Thirlby rightly obferv'd to Me, the Trim is to be understood of the Ship, and not of the Crew. And this very Expreffion occurs again in the Comedy of Errors; The Ship is in her Trim; the merry Wind Blows fair from Land, &c. And MILTON has likewife copied the Expreffion; Behold a fately Ship, Proud of her gawdy Trim, comes this way failing With all her Brav'ry on. Enter Enter Ariel, driving in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, in their ftolen apparel. Ste. Every man fhift for all the reft, and let no man take care for himself; for all is but fortune; Coragio, bully-monster, Coragio! Trin. If these be true fpies, which I wear in my head, here's a goodly fight. Cal. Ŏ Setebos, these be brave spirits, indeed! Seb. Ha, ha, What things are thefe, my lord Anthonio! Ant. Very like; one of them Is a plain fish, and no doubt marketable. Pro. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, Then fay, if they be true: this mif-fhap'd knave, His mother was a witch, and one so strong That could controul the moon, make flows and ebbs, Cal. I fhall be pincht to death. Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? Seb. He's drunk now: where had he wine? Alon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe; where fhould they Find this grand 'lixir, that hath gilded 'em? (34) How (34) Find this grand Liquor.] I certainly think, Shakespeare wrote Lixir here; alluding to the grand Elixir of which the Chymifts of that Age told fuch Wonders, that it would renew Youth, purchase Immortality, &c. and it being, as they pretended, a Preparation of Gold, they call'd it also, Aurum potabile: hence, 'tis probable, Shakespeare fays, gilded; and to This, without doubt, he again alludes in his Anthony and Eleopatra; How much art thou unlike Mark Antony? Yet coming from him, that great Med'cine hath But |