« ForrigeFortsett »
Early, one blust'ring morn, this lady was.
Thrown on this shore. I op'd the coffin, and
Found there rich jewels; recover'd her, and plac'd
Here in Diana's temple.
May we see them?
Cer. Great sir, they shall be brought you to my
Whither I invite you. Look! Thaisa is
Thai. O, let me look!
If he be none of mine, my sanctity
Will to my sense bend no licentious ear,
Like him you are: Did you not name a tempest,
The voice of dead Thaisa!
Thai. That Thaisa am I, supposed dead,
Per. Immortal Dian!
Now I know you better.
When we with tears parted Pentapolis,
[Shows a ring.
Per. This, this: no more, you gods! your present
Makes my past miseries sport: You shall do well, That on the touching of her lips I may
Melt, and no more be seen. O conie, be buried
A second time within these arms.
Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom.
[Kneels to Thaisa.
Per. Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh,
Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina,
For she was yielded there.
• Sensual passion.
Bless'd and mine own!
Hel. Hail, madam, and my queen!
I know you not.
Per. You have heard me say, when I did fly from
I left behind an ancient substitute.
Can you remember what I call'd the man?
I have nam'd him oft.
'Twas Helicanus then.
Per. Still confirmation:
Embrace him, dear Thaisa; this is he.
Now do I long to hear how you were found;
Thai. Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man
From first to last resolve you.
The gods can have no mortal officer
More like a god than you. Will you deliver
I will, my lord.
Beseech you, first go with me to my house,
Where shall be shown you all was found with her;
I bless thee for thy vision, and will offer
My night oblations to thee. Thaisa,
This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter,
And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd,
Thai. Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, Sir, that my father's dead."
* i. e. His beard.
Per. Heavens make a star of him! Yet there, my
We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves
Gow. In Antioch, and his daughter, you have
Of monstrous lust the due and just reward:
A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty:
That him and his they in his palace burn.
The gods for murder seemed so content
To punish them; although not done, but meant.
New joy wait on you! Here our play has ending.
i. e. The king of Antioch.
That this tragedy has some merit, it were vain to deny; but that it is the entire composition of Shakspeare, is more than can be hastily granted. I shall not venture, with Dr. Farmer, to determine that the hand of our great poet is only visible in the last act, for I think it appears in several passages dispersed over each of these divisions. I find it difficult, however, to persuade myself that he was the original fabricator of the plot, or the author of every dialogue, chorus, &c. STEEVENS.
The story is of great antiquity; and is related by va. rious aucient authors in Latin, French, and English.
END OF VOL. VII.
Printed by S. Hamilton, Weybridge.