Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost
(How sharp the point of this remembrance is!)
My dear son Ferdinand.
Pro.

Fer.

Sir, she's mortal;

Alon. Irreparable is the Says, it is past her cure. Pro

I am woe1 for't, sir.
loss; and Patience

I rather think,

But, by immortal Providence, she's mine;
I chose her, when I could not ask my father
For his advice; nor thought I had one: she
Is daughter to this famous duke of Milan,
Of whom so often I have heard renown,
But never saw before; of whom I have

This lady makes him to me.
Alon.

I am her's:

You have not sought her help; of whose soft grace, Received a second life, and second father

For the like loss, I have her sovereign aid,

And rest myself content.

Alon.

You the like loss?

Alon,

A daughter?

O heavens! that they were living both in Naples,
The king and queen there! that they were, I wish
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed

Where my son lies. When did you lose your
daughter?

Pro. In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords
At this encounter do so much admire,
That they devour their reason; and scarce think
Their eyes do offices of truth, their words
Are natural breath: but, howsoe'er you have
Been justled from your senses, know for certain,
That I am Prospero, and that very duke

Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely
Upon this shore, where you were wreck'd, was

landed,

To be the lord on't. No more yet of this;

For 'tis a chronicle of day by day,

Not a relation for a breakfast, nor

Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir;
This cell's my court: here have I few attendants,
And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in.
My dukedom, since you have given me again,
I will requite you with as good a thing;

At least, bring forth a wonder, to content ye,

As much as me my dukedom.

And on this couple drop a blessed crown;
For it is you, that have chalk'd forth the way
Which brought us hither!

Alon.

I say, Amen, Gonzalo Gon. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his

issue

The entrance of the Cell opens, and discovers FER- This fellow could not drown:-Now, blasphemy,

3 Mr. Pye says, I conceive Shakspeare, who was no nice weigher of words, meant wrangling to be equivalent with playing false, or with unfair advantage. So in Henry V. the king, in allusion to the tennis balls, directs the ambassadors to tell the dauphin

"He hath made a match with such a wrangler, That all the courts of France shall be disturb'd With chases."

Mr. Pye's explanation is correct; but his deduction that Shakspeare was "no nice weigher of words" is totally false. Shakspeare's words are always the most

Of roaring, shrieking, howling, gingling chains,
And more diversity of sounds, all horrible,
We were awak'd; straightway at liberty:
Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld
Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master
Cap'ring to eye her: On a trice, so please you,
Even in a dream, were we divided from them,
And were brought moping hither.

expressive and most appropriate. To wrangle, in the
language of his time, was to haft or overthwart; to rur
back and yet not cease to contend.

4 When no man was in his senses or had self-pos. session.

5 See Note 2. Sc. 1.

6 Neat, adroit. Florio interprets "Pargoletta; quaint pretty, nimble, tririe, tender, small." When we re member the tiny dimensions of Ariel, who could lie in the bell of a cowslip, the epithet, like all those of the great poet, will be found peculiarly appropriate.

Do not infest your mind with beating on?
The strangeness of this business: at pick'd leisure,
Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you
(Which to you shall seem probable3) of every
These happen'd accidents: till when, be cheerful,
And think of each thing well. Come hither, spirit;

Set Caliban and his companions free:

[Aside.

Untie the spell. [Exit ARIEL.] How fares my gracious sir?

There are yet missing of your company

Some few odd lads, that you remember not.

Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel.

Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself; for all is but fortune :-Coragio, bully-monster, Coragio!

Trin. If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here's a goodly sight.

Cal. O Setebos, these be brave spirits, indeed!

How fine my master is! I am afraid

He will chastise me.

Find this grand liquor that hath gilded them?-
How cam'st thou in this pickle ?

Trin. I have been in such a pickle, since I saw you last, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing.

Seb. Why, how now, Stephano?

Ste. O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a

cramp.

And worship this dull fool!

Pro.

Go to; away!
Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage where
you found it.
Seb. Or stole it, rather.

[Exeunt CAL. STE. and TRIN.

Pro. Sir, I invite your highness, and your train,
To my poor cell: where you shall take your rest
For this one night; which (part of it) I'll waste
With such discourse, as, I not doubt, shall make it
Go quick away: the story of my life,
And the particular accidents, gone by,
Since I came to this isle: And in the morn,
I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
Where I have hope to see the nuptial
Of these our dear-belov'd solemnized;
And thence retire me to my Milan, where
Every third thought shall be my grave.
Alon.

Pro. You'd be king of the isle, sirrah?
Ste. I should have been a sore one then.
Alon. This is as strange a thing as e'er I look'd
[Pointing to CALIBAN.

on.

Pro. He is as disproportion'd in his manners, As in his shape: -Go, sirrah, to my cell; Take with you your companions; as you look To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.

Cal. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter, And seek for grace: What a thrice double ass Was I, to take this drunkard for a god,

1 Conductor.

2 There is a vulgar expression still in use, of similar Import, "Still hammering at it."

To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely.

Pro.

I long

I'll deliver all;
And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,
And sail so expeditious, that shall catch
Your royal fleet far off. -My Ariel,-chick,-
That is thy charge; then to the elements
Be free, and fare thou well! - [Aside.] Please you,
[Exeunt.

3 This parenthetical passage seems to mean:-"When

draw near.

EPILOGUE.

SPOKEN BY PROSPERO.

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own,
Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
I must be here confin'd by you,
Or sent to Naples: Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got,
And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island, by your spell;
But release me from my bands,
With the help of your good hands,"
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please: Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be reliev'd by prayer;
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free.

[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 Shakspeare's intention in forming or adopting the plot, he has made it instrumental to the production of many charac ters, diversified with boundless invention, and preserved with profound skill in nature, extensive knowledge of opinions, and accurate 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 magic, the tumults of a storm, the adventures of a desert island, the native effusion of untaught affection, the punishment of guilt, and the final happi ness of the pair for whom our passions and reason are equally interested.] JOHNSON.

5 That is, work the same effects as the moon without her delegated authority.

6 The allusion is to the elixir of the Alchemists. The phrase of being gilded was a trite one for being drunk. Fletcher uses it in the Chances :

Duke. Is she not drunk too?

Wh. A little gilded o'er, sir; old sack, old boys. 7 By your applause. Noise was supposed to dissolve

I have explained to you, then these strange events shall a spell. Thus before in this play :seem more probable than they do now."

Hush! be mute;,,,

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

of

PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

to

THIS is one of Shakspeare's earliest if not his first
play. It was not printed until 1623, but it is men-
tioned by Meres in his Wit's Treasury, printed in 1598.
It bears strong internal marks of an early composition.
Pope has observed, that "the style of this comedy is
less figurative, and more natural and unaffected than
the greater part
Shakspeare's, though supposed
be one of the first he wrote." Malone is inclined to con-
sider this to be in consequence of that very circumstance,
and that it is natural and unaffected because it was a
youthful performance. "Though many young poets of
ordinary talents are led by false taste to adopt inflated
and figurative language, why should we suppose that
such should have been the course pursued by this mas-
ter genius? The figurative style of Othello, Lear, and
Macbeth, written when he was an established and long
practised dramatist, may be ascribed to the additional
knowledge of men and things which he had acquired
during a period of fifteen years; in consequence of
which his mind teemed with images and illustrations,
and thoughts crowded so fast upon him, that the con-
struction, in these and some other plays of a still later
period, is much more difficult and involved than in the
productions of his youth."

Hanmer thought Shakspeare had no other hand in this play than the enlivening it with some speeches and lines, which, he thinks, are easily distinguished from the rest. Upton peremptorily asserts, "that if any proof can be drawn from manner and style, this play must be sent packing, and seek for its parent else where." "How otherwise," says he, "do painters distinguish copies from originals, and have not authors their peculiar style and manner, from which a true critic can form as unerring judgment as a painter?" To this Johnson replies very satisfactorily: "I am afraid this illustration of a critic's science will not prove what is desired. A painter knows a copy from an original by rules somewhat resembling those by which critics know a translation, which, if it be literal, and literal it must be to resemble the copy of a picture, will be easily distinguished. Copies are known from originals, even when a painter copies his own picture; so if an author should literally translate his work, he would lose the manner of an original. Upton confounds the copy of a picture with the imitation of a painter's manner. Copies are easily known; but good imitations are not detected with equal certainty, and are, by the best judges, often mistaken. Nor is it true that the writer has always peculiarities equally distinguishable with those of the painter. The peculiar manner of each arises from the desire, natural to every performer, of facilitating his subsequent work by recurrence to his former ideas; this recurrence produces that repetition which is called habit. The painter, whose work is partly intellectual and partly manual, has habits of the mind, the eye, and the hand; the writer has only habits of the mind. Yet some painters have differed as much from them selves as from any other; and I have been told, that there is little resemblance between the first works of Raphael and the last. The same variation may be expected in writers; and, if it be true, as it seems, that they are less subject to habit, the difference between their works may be yet greater."

"But by the internal marks of composition we may discover the author with probability, though seldom with certainty. When I read this play, I cannot but think that I find both in the serious and ludicrous scenes, the language and sentiments of Shakspeare. It is not indeed one of his most powerful effusions; it has neither many diversities of character, nor striking delineation of life, but it abounds in γνομαι beyond most of his plays, and few have more lines or passages which, singly considered, are eminently beautiful. I am yet inclined to believe that it was not very successful, and suspect that it has escaped corruption, only be cause, being seldom played, it was less exposed to the hazards of transcription."

Pope has set what he calls a mark of reprobation upon the low and trifling conceits which are to be found in this play. It is true that the familiar scenes abound with quibbles and conceits; but the poet must not be

his

condemned for adopting a mode of writing admired by contemporaries; they were not considered low and trifling in Shakspeare's age, but on the contrary were very generally admired and allowed for pure and genuine wit. Yet some of these scenes have much farcical drollery and invention that of Launce with his dog in the fourth act is an instance, and surely "Speed's mode of proving his master to be in love is neither deficient in wit or sense."

"The tender scenes in this play, though not so highly wrought as in some others, have often much sweetness of sentiment and expression." Schlegel says: "it is as if the world was obliged to accommodate itself to a transient youthful caprice, called love." Julia may be considered a light sketch of the lovely characters of Viola and Imogen. Her answer to Lucetta's advice against following her lover in disguise has been pointed out as a beautiful and highly poetical passage.

"That it should ever have been a question whether this comedy were the genuine and entire composition of Shakspeare appears to me very extraordinary," says Malone. "Hanmer and Upton never seem to have considered whether it were his first or one of his latest pieces: is no allowance to be made for the first flights of a young poet? nothing for the imitation of a preceding celebrated dramatist, which in some of the lower dialogues of this comedy (and these only) may, I think, be traced? But even these, as well as the other parts of the play, are perfectly Shakspearian (1 do not say as finished and beautiful as any of his other pieces ;) and the same judgment must, I conceive, be pronounced concerning the Comedy of Errors and Love's Labour's Lost, by every person who is intimately acquainted with his manner of writing and thinking."

Sir William Blackstone observes, "that one of the great faults of the Two Gentlemen of Verona is the hastening too abruptly, and without preparation, to the denouement, which shows that it was one of Shakspeare's very early performances." Dr. Johnson in his concluding observations has remarked upon the geographical errors. They cannot be defended by attributing them to his youthful inexperience, for one of his latest productions is also liable to the same objection. To which Malone replies: "The truth, I believe, is, that as he neglected to observe the rules of the drama with respect to the unities, though before he began to write they had been enforced by Sidney in a treatise which doubtless he had read; so he seems to have thought that the whole terraqueous globe was at his command; and as he brought in a child at the beginning of a play, who in the fourth act appears as a woman, so he seems to have set geography at defiance, and to have considered countries as inland or maritime just as it suited his fancy or convenience."

Some of the incidents in this play may be sup posed to have been taken from The Arcadia, book 1. ch. vi. where Pyrocles consents to head the Helots: The Arcadia was entered on the Stationers' books in 1599. The love adventure of Julia resembles that of Viola in Twelfth Night, and is indeed common to many of the ancient novels.

Mrs. Lennox informs us, that the story of Proteus and Julia might be taken from a similar one in "The Diana" of Montemayor. This pastoral romance was translated from the Spanish in Shakspeare's time, by Bartholomew Young, and published in 1599. It does not appear that it was previously published, though it was translated two or three years before by one Thomas Wilson, perhaps some parts of it may have been made public, or Shakspeare may have found the tale elsewhere. It has before been observed that Meres mentions the Two Gentlemen of Verona in his book, published in 1598. Malone conjectures that this play was the first that Shakspeare wrote, and places the date of its composition in the year 1591.

* Malone points at Lilly, whose comedies were performed with great success and admiration previous to Shakspeare's commencement of his dramatic career.

SCENE I.-An open place in Verona. Enter
VALENTINE and PROTEUS.
Valentine.

CEASE to persuade, my loving Proteus;
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits : 1
Wer't not, affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,
I rather would entreat thy company,
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Than living dully sluggardiz'd at home,
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.2
But, since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein,
Even as I would, when I to love begin.

Pro. Wilt thou begone? Sweet Valentine,

When thou dost meet good hap; and, in thy Betideth here in absence of thy friend;

Speed. Such another proof will make me cry baa. SCENE II. The same. Garden of Julia's house. Pro. But dost thou hear! gav'st thou my letter