from the "O, Dea certe," of Virgil, on the one hand, and the exclamation of Salmacis on the other, of which Shakspeare assuredly knew nothing except from translations :

Puer O, dignissime credi

Esse Deus; si tu Deus es, potes esse Cupido,-
Sive es mortalis, qui te genuere beati !

Some scenes take place between the clown and Segasto, betrothed
to Amadine, which might vie with the interlocutions of a moun-
tebank-doctor and his servant at a country fair: these are inter-
rupted by the appearance of Tremelio, who, at the instigation of
Segasto, attempts the murder of Mucedorus, already a favourite
at court, to the prejudice of the former favourite.
In the en
counter Tremelio is slain; and, Segasto complaining to the King
of Arragon, Mucedorus is condemned to death, but Amadine pre-
senting the bear's head to her father, with an account of her pre-
servation, the sentence of death on Mucedorus is changed to ba-
nishment; and Amadine proceeds into voluntary exile in search
of her lover.
In a wood she is overtaken by a fierce mis-shapen
monster at once a savage and a cannibal-by whom she is
threatened with death and raven, but at length she consents to
live with him in the woods. Mucedorus, in search of Amadine,
is surprised by the monster, who foregoes his life at the instance
of Amadine; but Bremo, when instructing Mucedorus in wield.
ing the club, is struck dead by the latter. The princes return to
the court of Arragon, where Mucedorus throws off his disguise
and receives the hand of Amadine; and the arrival of the King
of Valencia in search of his son "concludes this strange eventful
history."

In this brief analysis, the broader features of Shakspeare's fable will not be discovered; they must be sought for, as has been already observed, in the circumstances attending the shipwreck of Sir George Somers; some of the slighter incidents may, how. ever, be traced in Mucedorus. The defeated purpose of Antonio and Sebastian, in the Tempest, to murder Gonzalo and Alonzo, has its parallel in the unsuccessful attempt of Tremelio to slay Mucedorus. Miranda is proposed by Stephano to be called his Queen, and in like manner Amadine is called by Bremo the Queen of his woods. Mouse the clown, and Trincalo, are alike buffoons and jesters. When Bremo raises his hand to strike at Ama

dine, he exclaims,

Ah! how my courage fayles when I should strike,

Some new-come spirit biding in my breast.

In a similar manner, but through the means of an agency, which the writer of Mucedorus was unable to create, Antonio

and

and Sebastian are unable to raise their swords, while Ariel mocks them :

--

The resemblance of Caliban to Bremo is far more striking; indeed the differences in those characters are rather accidental than essential. The monster Bremo was as much a lord of the unfrequented woods wherein he dwelt, as Caliban of the island which he inhabited, before Prospero subdued him by magic. Both, most probably, had their origin in the uncouth personages of the rustic pageants already referred to. But the circumstance of Sir George Somers's shipwreck on an island, to which vulgar belief annexed many marvellous and supernatural stories, suggested to the creative fancy of Shakspeare the formation of a monster dissimi, lar to the vulgar race, with which the inventors of masques and pageants had hitherto entertained their spectators, and, giving uncontrouled indulgence to his genius, the poet has created an inhabitant of the earth not only new and strange in its nature, but endowed with combinations of language strikingly characteristic of the ferocity of their employer. Shakspeare's judg. ment, however, avoided the disgusting impropriety of making his female yield even in appearance to an unnatural attachment for a deformed slave and savage; though the monster Caliban had attempted to violate the honour of Miranda, and boasts with sa. vage sensuality, that he was prevented,

-He had peopled else

The isle with Calibans.

The exquisite genius of Shakspeare, in the conduct of this extraordinary effort of invention, is no where so transcendantly re markable as in the natural and appropriate qualities, with which he has marked the conduct of Caliban towards whoever indulges his sensual appetites,-the only sources of gratification to savagė and untutored nature,-the only impulses which sway and bias even better natures, when unsubdued by reason and unrefined by education. The return proposed on the part of the indulged, would naturally partake of the qualities which alone he was com petent to prize. Caliban, therefore, complaining of Prospero's tyranny, feelingly adds,

When thou cam'st first,

Thou strok'dst me and mad'st much of me, wouldst give me
Water with berries in't—And then I lov'd thee,

And shew'd thee all the qualities of the isle,

The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and fertile.

But this minute discernment of nature and propriety of conduct is still more powerfully displayed in the scene where Stephano

pours

pours the flaggon of wine into the mouth of Caliban. A liquor altogether new, producing upon an animal, half man half beast, an effect so exhilirating, persuades the savage that the bestower is a god; and, in the feelings of gratitude excited by the operation of the stimulating potion, Caliban thus proffers to Stephano whatever valuable to his sensations the isle afforded :

I'll shew thee every fertile inch o' the isle ;'
And kiss thy foot; I pr'ythee be my god.

:

I'll shew thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries ;
I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough,

I prythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow:
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;
Shew thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee

To clust'ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee

Young sea-mells from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

Never was savage thankfulness so powerfully pourtrayed, so rich in the colouring and so true to the life. Nevertheless, Shak speare has s not, I fear, strictly observed the Horatian maxim :—

Si quid inexpertum scenæ committis, et audes
Personam formare noyam, servetur ad imum,
Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet.

Caliban is not " every inch a savage!" when he talks of "being wise hereafter and seeking grace." When he begins to moralize and repent his idolatry, one is tempted to exclaim with Zanga,

Now, Christian, thou mistak'st my character.

No writer on a similar subject can "bench by the side" of Shakspeare-no poet can hope to measure a lance with him with success the following passages, however, manifest the hand of a master, and will be read with pleasure even though they should fail to prove that, in the character and language of his "servant-monster," Shakspeare owed any obligations to the "Comedie of Mucedorus :"

If thou wilt love me, thou shalt be my queene;
I'll crowne thee with a chaplet made of ivie,
And make the rose and lillie wait upon thee.
I'll rend the branches from the burley oke
At noon to shade thee from the burning sunne :
The trees shall spread themselves where thou dost goe,
And as they spread, I'll trace along with thee.
Thou shalt be fedde with quailes and partridges,
With black-birds, thrushes, larks, and nightingales :
Thy drink shall be goates-milke and christel water
Distilled from fountaines and the clearest springs ;
And all the dainties that the woods afford
I'll freely give thee to obtain thy love.
The day I'll spend to recreate my love,
With all the pleasures that I can devise.

And

And in the night I'll be thy bedfellow,

And lovingly embrace thee in mine arms.

The satyrs and the wood-nymphs shall attend thee,
And lull thee to thy sleepe with musick's sound;
And in the morning when thou dost awake
The larke shall singe good morrow to my queene.
When thou art up, the wood-lanes shall be strowed
With violets, cowslips, and sweet marigolds,
For thee to trample and to treade upon :
And I will teach thee how to kill the deare,
To chase the hart, and how to rouse the roe,
If thou wilt live to love and honour me.

In a disquisition of this nature, absolute demonstration is not pretended; and it would be absurd to expect proof on a subject almost incapable of probation. That there are features in the two dramas of distant resemblance, and a character in each of striking similarity, cannot, I presume, be denied; and it is upon a comparison of the leading ideas, rather than in the coincidence of language, in the above passages, that I found my belief that Shakspeare, in the composition of the Tempest, had in his mind the popular comedy, or droll, of Mucedorus.

After all, and to conclude in the words of Iago,

I am to pray you, not to strain my speech

To grosser issues, nor to larger reach,

THERE is not a pleasanter piece of satire in the English language than Dr. Franklin's Economical Project, in which he affects to have discovered that the sun rises many hours before we do and gives light as soon as he rises, and proposes to save an immense

sum

sum in wax, tallow, and oil, by the economy of using the sun, shine of the morning instead of the artificial light of the evening. "For the great benefit of this discovery," the Doctor concludes, "thus freely communicated and bestowed by me on the public, I demand neither place, pension, exclusive privilege, or any other reward whatever. I only expect to have the honour of it. And yet I know there are little envious minds, who will, as usual, deny me this, and say that my invention was known to the an cients, and perhaps they may bring passages out of the old books in proof of it. I will not dispute with these people that the ancients knew not the sun would rise at certain hours; they possibly had, as we have, almanacks that predicted it: but it does not follow from thence that they knew he gave light as soon as he rose. This is what I claim as my discovery." Now, Sir, my mind is "little and envious" enough to say, that this too was known to our forefathers, aye, and that they took advantage of the knowledge. I shall not travel from my own country; but I have been at the pains to look at a few "old books," and shall bring forward some "passages” in support of my assertion. Let us first see what we can collect from the very methodical and useful History of England of Henry and Andrews.

"From the landing of William, Duke of Normandy, A. D. 1066, to the death of King John, A. D. 1216.

"The time of dinner, in this period, even at court, and in the families of the greatest Barons, was at nine in the forenoon, and the time of supper at five in the afternoon. These times were very convenient for despatching the most important business of the day without interruption, as the one was before it began, and the other after it was ended. They were also thought to be friendly to health and long life, according to the following verses, which were then often repeated :—

• Lever à cinq, diner à neuf,
Souper à cinq, coucher à neuf,
Fait vivre d'ans nonante et neuf.'

To rise at five, to dine at nine,
To sup at five, to bed at nine,

Makes a man live to ninety-nine.'

"Recreations Historiques, Tom. I. p. 170."

A fashionable of the year 1810 would ask here "which five, and which nine?" If those in the afternoon, the precept is still obeyed in high life.

From the accession of Henry IV. A. D. 1399, to the acces sion of Henry VIII. A. D. 1485.

"It was now become the custom in great families, to have four meals a day, viz. breakfasts, dinners, suppers, and liveries, which were a kind of collation in their bed-chambers, immediate.

ly