[having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state
To what tune pleas'd his ear]
_Key_ in this place seems to signify the key of a musical instrument,
by which he set _Hearts to tune_.
I.ii.93 (11,2) [and my trust,_Like a good parent, did beget of him_
A falshood] Alluding to the observation, that a father above the
common rate of men has commonly a son below it. _Heroum filii
noxae_.
I.ii.155 (14,6) [deck'd the sea] _To deck the sea_, 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 nay be borne, but perhaps
the poet wrote _fleck'd_, which I think is still used in rustic
language of drops falling upon water. Dr. Warburton reads
_mock'd_, the Oxford edition _brack'd_. (see 1765, I,13,5)
I.ii.185 (15,8) [Thou art inclin'd to sleep: 'tis a 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 effect would begin, makes him question
her so often whether she is attentive to his story.
I.ii.196 (16,1) [I boarded the king's ship: now on the beak] The
beak was a strong pointed body at the head of the ancient gallies;
it is used here for the forecastle, or the bolt-sprit.
I.ii.197 (16,2) [Now in the waste] The part between the quarter-deck
and the forecastle.
I.ii.209 (16,3) [Not a soul _But felt a fever of the mad_] In all the
later editions this is changed to a _fever of the mind_, without
reason or authority, nor is any notice given of an alteration.
I.ii.218 (17,4) [_On their sustaining garments not a blemish_ Thomas
Edwards' MSS: sea-stained] This note of Mr. Edwards, with which
I suppose no reader is satisfied, shews with how much greater
ease critical emendations are destroyed than made, and how
willingly every man would be changing the text, if his imagination
would furnish alterations. (1773)
I.ii.239 (19,7) [What is the time o' the day?] This passage needs
not be disturbed, it being common to ask a question, which the
next moment enables us to answer; he that thinks it faulty may
easily adjust it thus:
Pro. _What is the time o' the day? Past the mid season._
Ari. _At least two glasses._
Pro. _The time 'twixt six and now_--
I.ii.250 (19,8) [_Pro._ Dost thou forget _From what a torment I did
free thee?_] That the character and conduct of Prospero may be
understood, something must be known of the system of enchantment,
which supplied all the marvellous found in the romances
of the middle ages. This system seems to be founded on the
opinion that the fallen spirits, having different degrees of
guilt, had different habitations allotted them at their expulsion,
some being confined in hell, _some_ (as Hooker, who delivers
the opinion of our poet's age, expresses it) _dispersed in air,
some on earth, some in water, others in caves, dens, or minerals
under the earth_. Of these, some were more malignant and
mischievous than others. The earthy spirits seem to have been
thought the most depraved, and the aerial the least vitiated.
Thus Prospero observes of Ariel:
--_Thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her_ earthy _and abhorr'd commands._
Over these spirits a power might be obtained by certain rites
performed or charms learned. This power was called _The Black
Art_, or _Knowledge of Enchantment_. The enchanter being (as king
James observes in his _Demonology_) one _who commands the devil,
whereas the witch serves him_. Those who thought best of this
art, the existence of which was, I am afraid, believed very
seriously, held, that certain sounds and characters had a physical
power over spirits, and compelled their agency; others who
condemned the practice, which in reality was surely never
practised, were of opinion, with more reason, that the power of
charms arose _only_ from compact, and was no more than the spirits
voluntary allowed them for the seduction of man. The art was
held by all, though not equally criminal, yet unlawful, and
therefore Causabon, speaking of one who had commerce with
spirits, blames him, though he imagines him _one of the best kind
who dealt with them by way of command_. Thus Prospero repents of
his art in the last scene. The spirits were always considered
as in some measure enslaved to the enchanter, at least for a
time, and as serving with unwillingness, therefore Ariel so often
begs for liberty; and Caliban observes, that the spirits serve
Prospero with no good will, but _hate him rootedly_.--Of these
trifles enough.
I.ii.306 (22,1) [_Mira._ The strangeness of your story put _Heaviness
in me_.] Why should a wonderful story produce sleep? I believe
experience will prove, that any violent agitation of the mind
easily subsides in slumber, especially when, as in Prospero's
relation, the last images are pleasing.