He was the duke; out of the substitution, Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Pro. To have no screen between this part he play'd, and him he play'd it for, he needs will be bsolute Milan: Me, poor man!-my library Vas dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties So dry he was for sways) with the king of Naples, The dukedom, yet unbow'd, (alas, poor Milan!) To most ignoble stooping. Mira. O the heavens! 7 - in lieu o' the premises, &c.] In lieu of, means here, in onsideration of; an unusual acceptation of the word. So, in letcher's Prophetess, the chorus, speaking of Drusilla, says: "But takes their oaths, in lieu of her assistance, "That they shall not presume to touch their lives." - it is a tidings wash the eyes of kings. That wrings mine eyes.] i. e.s The old copy reads "That wrings mine eyes to To what? every reader will as rice of Dr. Farmer, omitted the to the metre: hear, at the begi used as a dissyllable. To wring, of Windson M. Mason. in the sense T ied, one midnight id Antonio open nd confer fair Milan, n my brother: Whereon, nd, i' the dead of darkness, purpose hurried thence f. w I cried out then, $.1 Hear a little further, ee to the present business Well demanded, wench; at question. Dear, they durst not; - people bore me) nor set the business; but painted their foul ends. us aboard a bark; es to sea; where they prepar'd f woe curs in Antony and Cleopatra, Act V. sc.i: tidings yes of kings." Steevens. e eyes.] i. e. squeezes the water out of them. mine eyes to't." eader will ask. I have, therefore, by the adomitted these words, which are unnecessary e. sense I contend for, occurs in the Merry Wives c. ii: "his cook, or his laundry, or his washer, rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Jor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively had quit it: 3 there they hoist us, To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again, Did us but loving wrong. Vas I then to you! Pro. Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst smile, nfused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck'd the seas with drops full salt; had quit it:] Old copy-have quit it. Corrected by Mr. owe. Malone. "hud" ms, 1632. 4 To cry to the sea that roar'd to us ;) This conceit occurs again the Winter's Tale: "How the poor souls roar'd, and the sea Lock'd them," &c. Steevens. 5 deck'd the sea-] To deck the sea, if explained, to hoour, adorn, or dignify, is, indeed, ridiculous, but the original imort of the verb deck, is to cover; so, in some parts, they yet say ck the table. This sense may be borne, but perhaps the poet rote fleck'd, which I think is still used in rustic language of drops lling upon water. Dr. Warburton reads mock'd; the Oxford Hition brack'd. Johnson. Verstegan, p. 61. speaking of beer, says "So the overdecking - covering of beer came to be called berham, and afterwards arme." This very well supports Dr. Johnson's explanation. The following passage in Antony and Cleopatra may countenance e verb deck, in its common acceptation: do not please sharp fate " To grace it with your sorrows." That is this but decking it with tears? "Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal." Steevens. To deck, I am told, signifies in the North, to sprinkle. See ay's DICT. of North Country words, in verb. to deg, and to deck; nd his DICT. of South Country words, in verb. dag. The latter gnifies dew upon the grass!-hence daggle-tailed. In Cole's Lan Dictionary, 1679, we find, -" To dag, collutulo, irroro." A correspondent, who signs himself Eboracensis, proposes that is contested word should be printed degg'd, which, says he, sigfes sprinkled, and is in daily use in the North of England. When Inder my burden groan'd; which rais undergoing stomach, to bear up gainst what should ensue. How can ume food we had, and some fresh wa noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, t of his charity, (who being then a Master of this design,) did give us ;7 des that have been washed are too muc meisten them before they can be ironed prinkling; this operation the maidens to undergoing stomach,] Stomach is This your son-in-law, waving thy hand, I have left the passage in quest slender reliance on its integrity. What Mr. Malone has styled time," can scarce deserve so cre be remembered that the instance his position, are not from the ea the score of accuracy, but from which, with equal judgment, h The genuine idiom of our can only be ascertained by re whose works were skilfully re press, and are therefore unsus number of such book phraseol n'd; which rais'd in me 1,6 to bear up sue. I some fresh water, that onzalo, no being then appointed did give us ;7 with shed are too much dried, it is necessary They can be ironed, which is always done tion the maidens universally call degging. Reed. ch,] Stomach is stubborn resolution. So, Pelidæ stomachum." Steevens. and some fresh water, that who being then appointed n,) did give us;] Mr. Steevens has sugDetter read-he being then appointed; and now write: but the reading of the old copy mode of phraseology being the idiom of So, in the Winter's Tale: ur son-in-law, The king, (whom heavens directing,) thus, correcting thy stout heart, as the ripest mulberry, hold the handling; or, say to them," &c. ssage in question as I found it, though with its integrity. ne has styled "the idiom of Shakspeare's Leserve so creditable a distinction. It should at the instances, adduced by him, in support of t from the early quartos, which he prefers on acy, but from the folio 1623, the inaccuracy of judgment, he has censured. Liom of our language, at its different periods, tained by reference to contemporary writers, skilfully revised, as they passed through the erefore unsuspected of corruption. A sufficient ooks are before us. If they supply examples of embling that which Mr. Malone would establish, of controversy between us: Let, however, the Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me, 'rom my own library, with volumes, that prize above my dukedom. But ever see that man! it still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Iere in this island we arriv'd; and here lave I, thy school-master, made thee more profit 'han other princes can, that have more time or vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. sputed phrases be brought to their test before they are aditted; for I utterly refuse to accept the jargon of theatres and ne mistakes of printers, as the idiom or grammar of the age, in hich Shakspeare wrote. Every gross departure from literary ales may be countenanced, if we are permitted to draw exames from vitiated pages; and our readers, as often as they meet ith restorations, founded on such authorities, may justly exclaim ith Othello,“ Chaos is come again.” Steevens. 8 Now I arise:] Why does Prospero arise? Or, if he does it to ase himself by change of posture, why need he interrupt his arrative to tell his daughter of it? Perhaps these words belong Miranda, and we should read: Mir. 'Would I might But ever see that man!-Now I arise. Pro. Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Prospero, in p. 15, had directed his daughter to sit down, and arn the whole of this history; having previously by some magi-1 charm disposed her to fall asleep. He is watching the proess of this charm; and in the mean time tells her a long story, ten asking her whether her attention be still awake. The story ing ended (as Miranda supposes) with their coming on shore, d partaking of the conveniences provided for them by the loyal manity of Gonzalo, she therefore first expresses a wish to see e good old man, and then observes that she may now arise, as e story is done. Prospero, surprised that his charm does not t work, bids her sit still; and then enters on fresh matter to muse the time, telling her (what she knew before) that he had en her tutor, &c. But soon perceiving her drowsiness coming , he breaks off abruptly, and leaves her still sitting to her slumrs. Blackstone. As the words" now I arise"-may signify, “now I rise in ✓ narration,"" now my story heightens in its consequence," I ve left the passage in question undisturbed. We still say, that Min. Heavens thank you for't! you, sir, for still tis beating in my mind,) you ir mising this sea-storm? Pro, Know th acident most strange, bountiful fo Now my dear lady, hath mine enem Iwught to this shore: and by my p ind my zenith doth depend upon most auspicious star; whose influ Low I court not, but omit,1 my fo il ever after droop. Here cease Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a go nd give it way; I know thou can lame away, servant, come: I am Enter ARIE! Ari. All hail, great master! gi To answer thy best pleasure; be Now my dear lady,] i. e. now my a 'tis a good dulness, Dr. 3 All hail, great master! gra "-tell me sweetest, |