swain are labouring to keep the vessel from running aground. The King and his companions— persons of the story-come on deck and each speaks in his character. The King, accustomed to command, speaks with the air of a commander, but in presence of death, the great leveller, is ordered below by the boatswain. "Hence! What care these roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not." Gonzalo, who, with that sense of loyalty which made him carry out the orders against Prospero, cares greatly for the name of king, by his first words indicates both his kindly humour and his loyal instinct : "Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard." He gets up a comfortable little joke also out of the rudeness of the boatswain, that as this fellow is born to be hanged they are safe against drowning. After the manner of good-natured old gentlemen, he also cherishes his joke, he chirps over it again presently, and it reappears at the end of the play. Sebastian and Antonio, on the contrary, who represent the hard malice of life, capable of treason and murder, speak wholly in accordance with their cruel natures. Gonzalo's thoughts, when expecting instant death, are of wife, children, brother, and "the wills above be done," with amiable prattle intermixed. In the next scene Prospero and Miranda watch from shore the splitting of the vessel in the magic storm. Miranda has suffered with those whom she saw suffer, and in all her words there is the gentle spirit of humanity. Prospero, whose spells are prompted by the same good spirit, bids her tell her piteous heart there's no harm done; puts off his magic robe-"Lie there, my art"-and left with no other magic than a father's love, comforts his child—" Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort' -assuring her that, "The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touched Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink." He tells her then the story of their coming to the island; and it may be observed that her one vague memory of childhood is of a wider fellowship with human life "Had I not Four or five women once, that tended me?" It may be observed also that, as Prospero goes on with his tale, Miranda stands in rapt attention with her eyes fixed on the outer space, as Browning's Paracelsus when he is filled with the dream of a new world of men, and Festus asks, "How far was Wurzburg with its church and spire. . . . from that look's far alighting?" In this motionless attention and fixed gaze, there is excellent dramatic reason for the breaks-"Dost thou attend," &c.-in a narrative too long for continuous delivery by one person in a play. It will be observed also that the tale of wrong done to Prospero by the world in which he lived, ends with memory of the kindness shown by Gonzalo in the performance of an evil duty. Gonzalo is no hero of romance; he is no more than a good, kindhearted, commonplace man. It was actually by his hand that Prospero was cast adrift; because he was obedient to the King's commands, and did what he thought to be his duty without question. Nevertheless, only his kindness is remembered, and Miranda's wish is, "Would I might but ever see that man!" Then Prospero resumes his magic robes and proceeds to use his power on the world that cast him out. Prospero's design is in two parts. One is concerned with Ferdinand, son to the King of Naples, his inveterate enemy, whom he desires to bind in love to his daughter Miranda; that is one way of conquest over the old hatred. The other part of his design touches the whole body of the world that wronged him—his own brother, and the King of Naples, and the rest, whom he desires to bring to repentance, and so, through repentance, into full forgiveness and new fellowship. Ariel, therefore, has been bidden to separate Ferdinand from his father, bring him to land on a lonely part of the shore, and then lead him to the presence of Miranda. Prospero's whole device aims at the kindly touching of the hearts of men, and its action occupies less than four hours of a summer afternoon. Shakespeare marks the time of the play very distinctly. At the outset, in the second scene Prospero asks Ariel, "What is the time of day? Ariel. Past the mid season. Prospero. At least two glasses; "—that is, at least, two in the afternoon; and then he adds, "The time 'twixt six and now must by us both be spent most preciously." The time here given therefore is from 2 p.m. or a little after, until 6 p.m. At the beginning of the last Act, Prospero again asks Ariel, "How's the day?" and Ariel answers— "On the sixth hour, at which time, my lord, You said our work shall cease." In the last scene the King of Naples speaks of himself and his company "who three hours since were wrecked upon this shore; he says to his son also of Miranda, "Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours ;" and the boatswain speaks of " our ship which three hours since we gave out split.” We may take the time of action therefore as about three hours and a half, from a little after two until a little before six in the afternoon Ariel's spirit-song as she leads Ferdinand, the son of Prospero's inveterate enemy, towards Miranda, figures union and peace "Come unto these yellow sands And then take hands: Court'sied when you have and kiss'd, The wild waves whist." The joining of the hands of Ferdinand and Miranda will still the waves of evil passion. There is a like figure of the stilling of the waves of human passion by the influence of music, in a song in King Henry VIII. Observe also that the burdens of the spirits in this song are the watch-dog's bark and the crow of strutting chanticleer. They point to the aim of the spell, human fellowship and Prospero's |