dos Muf be fo too, if heed me; which to Seb. Well I am ftanding water. : Ant. I'll teach you how to how. Hereditary floth inftructs me. Ant. O! If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, Seb. Pry'thee, fay on ; The fetting of thine eye and cheek proclaim Ant. Thus Sir: Although this Lord of weak remembrance, this, When he is earth'd ;) hath here almoft perfuaded As he, that fleeps here, fwims. (14) Trebles thee o'er.] i. e, makes thee thrice what thou now arte Thus the two first filio's, and all the other impreffions of any autho rity, that I have feen, exhibit the text and the phrafe is familiar both to our Poet, and other Stage-writers of his time. Merchant of Venice, Act 3. Sc 2. K. Richard III. A&t 5. Sc. 3. Why, our battalion trebles that account. So, Pericles, Prince of Tyre;" The boatswain whiftles, and the mafter calls, And fo, Marton in his Sopbonifba3 Think, ev'ry honour, that doth grace thy sword, Trebles my love. Troubles thee o'er-is a foolish reading, which, I believe, firft got birth in Mr. Pope's two editions of cur Poet; and, I dare fay, will lie buried there in a proper obfcurity, Seb. Seb. I have no hope, That he's undrown'd. Ant. O, out of that no hope, What great hope have you? no hope, that way, is Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubt difcovery there. Will you grant, with me, That Ferdinand is drown'd? Seb. He's gone.. Ant. Then tell me Who's the next heir of Naples? Seb. Claribel. Ant. She that is Queen of Tunis, fhie that dwelfs Ten leagues beyond man's life; fhe that from Naples Can have no note, unless the fun were poft, (The man i' th' moon's too flow) 'till new-born chins Whereof, what's paft is prologue; what to come, Seb. What ftaff is this? how fay you? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis So is the heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is fome fpace. Ant. A fpace, whofe ev'ry cubit Seems to cry out, how fhall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebaftian wake. Say, this were death That now hath feiz'd them, why, they were no worfe As this Gonzale; I myself could make (15) She, for robem We were fea-frval or'd,] Thus Mr. Po e, with a little reafon, ast authority. All the copies, that I have feen, read-from rukom, &c. And why not from? Were they not fhipwreck'd, as is evident above, ia their return from her? Would I had never Married my daughter there! for coming thence, &c.. A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore Ant. And how does your content You did fupplant your brother Profpero. And, look, how well my garments fit upon me, Ant. Ay, Sir; where lies that? If 'twere a kybe, 'twould put me to my flipper: Ten confciences, that ftand 'twixt me and Milan, No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he's like, that's dead; Seb. Thy cafe, dear friend, Shall be my precedent: as thou got’ft Milan, Ant. Draw together: And when I rear my hand, do you the like To fall it on Gonzalo. Seb. O, but one word. Enter Enter Ariel, with Mufick and Song. Ari. My mafter through his art forefees the danger, you, his friend, are in; and fends me forth (For elfe his project dies) to keep them living. That [Sings in Gonzalo's ear. While you here do fnoaring lie, His time doth take: If of life you keep a care, Shake off lumber and beware: Awake! awake! Ant. Then let us both be fudden. Gon.Now,good angels preferve the King! [They wake, Alon. Why, how now, ho? awake? whyarey. Wherefore this ghaftly looking? Gon. What's the matter? Seb. While we ftood here fecuring your repofe, Ev'n now we heard a hollow burft of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions; did't not wake you? It ftrook mine ear most terribly. Alon. I heard nothing. Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear; To make an earthquake: fure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions.. Alon. Heard you this? Gon. Upon my honour, Sir, I heard a humming, And that a ftrange one too, which did awake me. Ifhak'd you, Sir, and cry'd; as mine eyes open'd, · Ifaw their weapons drawn: there was a noite, That's verity. "Tis beft we ftand on guard; Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground, and let's make further fearch: For my poor fon. Gon. Heav'ns keep him from thefe beasts! For he is, fure, i' th' island. Alon. Lead away. Ari. Profpero my Lord fhall know what I have done. So, King, go fafely on to feek thy fon. C 5 [Exeunt. SCENE: SCENE changes to another part of the Island. Enter Caliban with a burden of wood; a noife of thunder heard. LL the infections, that the fun fucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Proper fall, and make him Cal. A' By inch-meal a difeafe! his. fpirits hear me, And yet I needs must curfe. But they'll not pinch, Sometimes like apes, that moe and chatter at me, Enter Trinculo. Here comes a fpirit of his, and to torment me Trin. Here's neither bufh nor fhrub to bear off any weather at all, and another ftorm brewing; I hear it fing i' th' wind: yond fame black cloud, yond huge. one, (16) looks like a foul bumbard that would fhed, his liquor. If it fhould thunder as it did before, I know (16) Locks like a foul bumbard] This term again occurs in the First Part of Henry IV.—— that fwoln parcel of dropfies, that huge, bum bard of fack-and again in Henry VIII. And here you lie baiting of bumbards, when ye fhould do fervice. By thefe feveral paffages, 'tis. plain, the word meant in thofe day's a large vellel for holding drink, as well as the piece of ordnance fo call'd. And, I think, at Oxford they now make ufe of a vehicle, which is term'd a gun of ale. Ben Fobnfor, cur Author's contemporary, likewife employs this word bum bard in this fenfe. The poor cattle yonder are paffing away the time with a cheat loaf, and a bumbard of broken beer, &r See his Masque of Augures. And, in his tranflation of Horace's Art of Poetry, he renders Projicit ampullas, & fefquipedalia verba,, in this manner; muft throw by Their Lumbard phrafe, and foot, and-half-foot words. not |