T'jlat wrings mine eyes.' Hear a little further, story Wherefore did they not Well demanded, wench; not; ( So dear the love my people bore me ) nor fet A mark so bloody on the business; but With colours fairer painted their foul ends. In few, they hurried us aboard a bark; Bore us some leagues to sea; where they pre par'd 1 A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, 66 A similar thought occurs in Antony and Cleopatra, Aa V. sc. i: it is a tidings That wrings mine eyes. ) i. e. squeezes the water out of them. . That wrings mine eyes to’t." To what? every reader will ask. I have therefore, by the ice of Dr. Farmer, omitted these words, which are unnecessary to the metre; hear, at the beginning of the next speech, being used as a disfyllable. To wring, in the sense I contend for, occurs in the Merry Wives of Windsor, A&. I. sc. ii : - his cook, or his laundry, or his walher, and his wringer." STEEVENS. of a boat, ) The old copy reads of a butt. HENLEY. It was correded by Mr. Rowe. MALONE. 7 had quit it:) Old copy have quit it. Correded by Mr. Rowe. MALONE. 1 6 To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; & to figh Alack! what trouble O! a cherubim smile, To cry to the sea that roar'd to us;) This conceit occurs againz in the Winter's Tale : How the poor souls roar'd, and the sea mock'd them,» &c. STEEVENS. 9 – 'deck'd the fea-) To deck the fea, if explained, to honour, adorn, or dignify, is indeed ridiculous, but the original import of the verb deck is, to cover; so in some parts they yet say deck the table. This sense may be borne, but perhaps the poet wrote fleck'd, which I think is ftill used in rustic language of drops falling upon water, Dr. Warburton reads mock'd; the Oxford edition brackid. JOHNSON. do not please sharp fate He has brave utensils, STEEVENS. To deck, I am told, signifies in the North, 10 Sprinkle. Sec Ray's Dict. of North Country words, in verb. to deg, and to deck i and his Dict. of South Country words, in verb dag. The latter signifies dew upon the grass ; hence daggle-tailed. In Cole's Latin Diâionary, 1679, we find To dag, collutulo, irroro." MALONE, A correspondent, who figns himself Eboracenks, proposes that this contested word should be printed degg'd, which , says he , fignifies Sprinkled, and is in daily use in the North of England, When cloaths that have been washed are too much dried, it is Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in mo How came we ashore pecessary to moisten them before they can be ironed, which is always done by: Sprinkling : this operation the maidens universally call degging. REED. • An undergoing ftomach. ) Stomach is stubborn refolution. Sa Horace, gravem Pelidæ ftomachum." STEEVENS. s Some food we had, and some fresh water, that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Master of this design, ) did give us ;) Mr. Steevens has suggested, that we might better read he being then appointed ; and so we should certainly now write: but the reading of the old copy is the true one, that mode of phraseology being the idiom of Shakspeare's uime. So, in the Winter's Tale: This your son-in-law, « Is iroth-plight to your daughter." Again, in Coriolanus : waving thy hand, on Which often, thus, correding thy stout heart, * Now humble as the ripeft mulberry, That will uot hold the handling; or, say to them," &e, MALONE. I have left the passage in question, as I found it, though with Dender reliance on its integrity. What Mr. Malone has styled the idiom of Shakspeare's time," can scarce deserve so creditable a pliftin&ion. It should be re. membered that the instances adduced by him in support of his position, are not from the carly quartos which he prefers on the score of accuracy, but from the folio 1623, the inaccuracy of which, with cqual judgment he has censured. The geuuine idioin of our language, at its different periods, can only be ascertained by reference to contemporary writers whose Rich garınents, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, Which since have steaded much : so, of his gen tleness, Knowing 1 lov'd my books, he furnish'd me, From my own library, with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. MIRA. 'Would I might But ever fee that man ! PRO. Now I arise: works were skilfully revised as they passed through the press, and are therefore unsuspe&ed of corruption. A sufficient number of such books are before us. If they supply examples of phraseology resembling that which Mr. Malone would establish, ihere is an end of controversy between us: Let, however, the disputed phrales be brought to their teit before they are admitted; for I utterly refuse to accept the jargon of theatres and the mistakes of priniers, as the idiom or grammar of the age in which Shakspeare wrote. Every gross departure from literary rules may be countenanced, if we are permitted to draw examples from vitiated pages; and our readers, as often as they meet with restorations founded on such authorities, may juftly exclaim, with Othello, 66 Chaos is come again." STEEVENS. * Now I arise : ) Why docs Prospero arise? Or, if he does it to easc himself by change of posture, why need he interrupt his narrarive to tell his daughter of it? Perhaps these words belong to Miranda, and we should read; Mir. Would I might But ever see that man ! Now I arise. Pro. Șit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow: Prospero, in 13. had direded his daughter to At down, and learn the whole of this history; having previously by some magical charm disposed her to fall asleep. He is watching the progress of this charm; and in the mean time tells her a long story, often asking her whether her attention be still awake. The story being ended (as Miranda fupposes) with their coming on shore, and partaking of the conveniences provided for them by the loyal humanity of Gonzalo, she therefore first expresses a wish to see the good old man, and then observes that she may now arise, as the story is done. Prospero, surprised that his charm does not yet work, bids her fit fill; and'then enters on fresh matter to amuse the time, telling her ( what Nie knew before) tbat he had been her Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-forrow. pray you, fir, (For ftill ’tis beating in my mind) your reason For raising this sea-storm ? PRO. I Know thus far forth. my fortunes Willever after droop. - Here cease more questions; Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dulness, tutor, &c. But soon perceiving her drowsiness coming on, he breaks off abruptly, and leaves her still siting to her slumbers. BLACKSTONE. As the words 11 now I arisc" may fignify, now I rise in my narration." « now my story heightens in its consequence," I have left the passage in question, undisturbed. We still say, that the interest of a drama rises or declines. STEEVENS. - princes —) The first folio reads, princesse. Henley. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. MALONE. 6 Now my dear lady, ) i. e. now my auspicious mistress. STEEVENS. I find my, zenith doth depend upon Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; Is bound in shallows and in miserics." MALONE. 3 good dulness, ) Dr. Warburton rightly observes, that this sleepiness, which Prospero by his art had brought upon Miranda, and of which he knew not how soon the effc& would begin, makes him question her so often whether she is att ܕ attentive to his story. JOHNSON, 'tis a |
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