We cannot miss 28 him: he does make our fire, Cal. [Within.] There's wood enough within. Pro. Come forth, I say; for thee: there's other business Come forth, thou tortoise! when 29 ? Re-enter ARIEL, like a Water-nymph. Fine apparition! My quaint 30 Ariel, Ari. My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked, dam, come forth! Enter CALIBAN. Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o'er! Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins 31 Shall, for that vast 32 of night that they may work, All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd 28 i. e. we cannot do without him. The phrase is still common in the midland counties. 29 This is a common expression of impatience. Vide note on King Richard II. Act 1. Scene 1. 30 Quaint here means brisk, spruce, dexterous, from the French cointe. 31 Urchins were fairies of a particular class. Hedgehogs were also called urchins; and it is probable that the sprites were so named, because they were of a mischievous kind, the urchin being anciently deemed a very noxious animal. Shakspeare again mentions these fairy beings in The Merry Wives of Windsor. "Like urchins, ouphes, and fairies green and white." In the phrase still current, "a little urchin," the idea of the fairy still remains. 32 That vast of night is that space of night. So, in Hamlet: "In the dead waist and middle of the night," nox vasta, midnight, when all things are quiet and siill, making the world appear one great uninhabited waste. In the pneumatology of ancient times visionary beings had different allotments of time suitable to the variety and nature of their agency, As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made them. Cal. I must eat my dinner. Water with berries in't; and teach me how Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me Pro. Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness: I have us'd thee, Filth as thou art, with human care: and lodg'd thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child. Cal. O ho, O ho!'would it had been done! Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. Pro. Abhorred slave; Which any print of goodness will not take, Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison. Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse: The red plague rid 33 you, For learning me your language! Pro. Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou wert best, To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice? If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps; Cal. [Aside. No, 'pray thee!I must obey: his art is of such power, It would control my dam's god, Setebos 35, And make a vassal of him. Pro. So, slave; hence! Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing and singing; ARIEL'S SONG. Come unto these yellow sands, 34 The word aches is evidently a dissyllable here and in two passages of Timon of Athens. The reader will remember the senseless clamour that was raised against Kemble for his adherence to the text of Shakspeare in thus pronouncing it as the mea sure requires. "Ake," says Baret in his Alvearie, "is the verb of this substantive Ache, ch being turned into k." And that ache was pronounced in the same way as the letter h is placed beyond doubt by the passage in Much Ado about Nothing, in which Margaret asks Beatrice for what she cries Heigh ho, and she answers for an h. i. e. ache. See the Epigram of Heywood adduced in illustration of that passage. This orthography and pronunciation continued even to the times of Butler and Swift. It would be easy to produce numerous instances. 35 "The giants when they found themselves fettered roared like bulls, and cried upon Setebos to help them."-Eden's Hist. of Travayle, 1577. p. 434. Hark, hark! Bur. Bowgh, wowgh.. [dispersedly. [dispersedly. The strain of strutting chanticlere Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo. Fer. Where should this music be? i the air, or the earth? It sounds no more;-and sure, it waits upon ARIEL sings. Full fathom five thy father lies; sea-range. Into something rich and Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: gone. [Burden, ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell. Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father.This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes 37:-I hear it now above me. Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say, what thou seest yond'. Mira. What is't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form:-But 'tis a spirit. Pro. No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath such senses 37 i. e. owns. To owe was to possess or appertain to, in ancient language. As we have, such: This gallant, which thou seest, Was in the wreck; and but he's something stain'd With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, Mira. I might call him It goes on, I see, I ever saw so noble. Pro. [Aside. As my soul prompts it:-Spirit, fine Spirit! I'll free thee Within two days for this. Fer. Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend!-Vouchsafe, my prayer May know, if you remain upon this island; And that you will some good instruction give, How I may bear me here; My prime request, Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder! If you be maid 88, or no? Mira. No wonder, sir; How! the best? What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee? Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples: he does hear me; And, that he does, I weep: myself am Naples; Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The king my father wreck'd. Mira. Alack, for mercy! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of Milan, And his brave son, being twain. |