Journeys Through Bookland Volume Viii Part 54

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[457-30] _Taste some subtilties_ means _feel some deceptions_.

[457-31] _Justify you traitors_ means _prove that you are traitors_.

[457-32] _Woe_ here means _sorry_.

[458-33] _As late_ means _as recent_.

[458-34] In this place _admire_ means _wonder_.



[458-35] _Are natural breath_ means _are the breath of a human being_.

The lords are still amazed; they cannot reason, they can scarcely believe their eyes or that the words they hear come from a living human being.

[458-36] In this connection _yet_ means _now_ or _for the present_.

[458-37] That is, it is a story to be told day after day.

[459-38] Miranda playfully accuses Ferdinand of cheating in the game.

[459-39] The exact meaning of _wrangle_ has not been determined, and critics still disagree. However, what Miranda says is, "you might cheat me for a score of kingdoms and yet I would call it fair play."

[459-40] Alonzo means that if this sight of Ferdinand is one of the witcheries of the island, he will feel that he has lost his son a second time.

[460-41] And this lady by becoming my wife makes him a second father to me.

[462-42] That is, "all of us have found our senses, when no man was in possession of his own."

[462-43] See Act I--Scene I.

[462-44] This sentence means, "Now you blasphemous man who swore so on board the s.h.i.+p that we could be saved, have you not an oath to swear on sh.o.r.e?"

[463-45] _Tricksy_ means _clever_.

[463-46] _Capering to eye her_ means _dancing with joy at seeing her_.

[463-47] _Moping_ here means _bewildered_.

[463-48] _Conduct of_ is used for _conductor_ or _leader of_.

[463-49] That is, "some wise man must make it clear to us."

[463-50] This sentence means "Do not trouble your mind by hammering away at the strangeness of these happenings."

[464-51] _At pick'd leisure_ is _at a chosen time when we have the opportunity_.

[464-52] _Single I'll resolve_ means _I will explain singly_.

[464-53] _Of every these happen'd accidents_ means _how every one of these things happened_.

[464-54] Stephano is still a little drunk and his tongue uncertain in its speech. He means, _Let us every man s.h.i.+ft for himself_.

[464-55] _Coragio_ is used for _courage!_

[464-56] Trinculo means, "If my eyes do not deceive me."

[465-57] _Without_ here means _outside of_ or _beyond_.

[465-58] _Gilded_ is a word that was commonly applied to a man who was drunk.

[465-59] Meat that is infested with maggots which have hatched from eggs laid by flies is said to be fly-blown. These will not lay their eggs in pickled meat. Trinculo says he has been so pickled, that is drunk, that the flies will not blow him.

[465-60] Stephano is sore from his torments, but as the word _sore_ also means _harsh_ and _severe_, he makes a good pun in his speech.

[466-61] _Retire me_ means _withdraw myself_.

[466-62] Prospero has accomplished his purpose; he has recovered his dukedom, has found a suitable husband for his daughter, and now feels that life has little in store for him. So every third thought will be in preparation for his death.

[467-63] The Epilogue is a part spoken by one of the actors after the play is over, and is addressed to the audience. Here _Prospero_ steps forward and speaks.

[467-64] He has dismissed Ariel and laid aside all his magic arts.

[467-65] The audience may hold him on the island or send him to Naples, for he is still under a spell.

[467-66] He asks the audience to applaud, to clap their hands, for noise always breaks charms, and will release him from the enchantment so that he may return to his dukedom.

STUDIES FOR "THE TEMPEST"

THE AUTHOR. Many times we have had occasion to say that an acquaintance with an author has much to do with our liking for his works, and as we read the great plays of our greatest poet, we wish we might know him more intimately. However, when we look for information concerning him, we quickly find that comparatively little is known of the man beyond what we can draw from his writings, and few authors have shown themselves less vividly. After doing our best, we can find only a great, shadowy Author who must have had a broad knowledge, a rare invention, a profound insight into human nature, a penetrating sympathy and a marvelous power of expression. As seen through his works, he appears more than human, but when we look into our histories, we wonder that so great a man could have lived and died, and left so light an impression on his times. In fact, some wise men have felt that the William Shakespeare we know could never have written the great plays that bear his name. That is a question, however, we need not discuss; it is better to leave the credit where it has rested for centuries, and believe that the plays are better evidence of Shakespeare's greatness than his own life is evidence of his ability to write them.

William Shakespeare was born in Stratford-on-Avon, April 23, 1564. His father, John Shakespeare, was a respectable citizen, a wool-dealer and a glover, who at one time possessed considerable means, and was an alderman and a bailiff in the little town, but who later on lost most of his property and ceased to be prominent in the affairs of the village.

William's mother was Mary Arden, a gentle, tender woman of Norman descent, who exerted a powerful influence over the lives of her children.

Until William was about fourteen years old he attended the free school in Stratford, and though there are many legends concerning his boyhood pranks and his gift for learning, we know practically nothing for a certainty. In one of the desks at the school, they still show the initials he is supposed to have cut during some idle moment. Of his youth we know still less, except that at about eighteen he married Ann Hathaway, a farmer's daughter who lived in the village of Shottery, a mile or two from Stratford. Ann was eight years older than William, but they seem to have lived happily and to have loved the children that were born to them.

The next thing we can be really certain of is, that about the time William was twenty-three he went to London and soon became connected with a company of actors. Here the genius of the poet began to make itself felt. He wrote some plays, he recast others, and by the time he had been five years in the city, he was prominent among the bright men of his time, and was recognized as a rising man. Unlike most actors and writers of that period, Shakespeare was not a dissipated man, but attended carefully to his duties, saved his money, and ten years after he left Stratford was able to return to his native town and buy a fine estate, to which he added from time to time. His money had not all come from his writings and his acting, however, for he owned a large part of the stock in the two leading theaters in London.

About 1604 he ceased to be an actor, although he continued to write for the stage, and in fact produced his greatest plays after that date.

Seven years later he returned finally to Stratford, and there lived a quiet and delightful home life until 1616, when on the anniversary of his birth he died suddenly of a fever. He was buried in the little parish church at Stratford, where his remains rest beside those of his wife. On the flat stone that covers his body is inscribed this epitaph:

"Good frend for Iesus sake forbeare, To digg the dvst encloased heare: Blesse be ye man yt spares thes stones, And Cvrst be he yt moves my bones."

Such are the princ.i.p.al facts that we know concerning the great man, and a simple biography it certainly is. We must not, however, think that he was not popular among his fellows, or that he was merely a successful business man. He counted among his friends the wisest and best men of his time, and some of them have written their impressions of him. Ben Jonson, a rough but sincere and honest man, says: "I loved the man, and do honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He was indeed honest, and of an open, free nature; had an excellent phantasy, brave notions and gentle expressions."

THE PLAY. _The Tempest_ was one of the last of the poet's dramas, though not the last, as some writers have contended. It was not printed until 1623, after the poet's death, but it was written, according to Hudson, between 1603 and 1613, and probably between 1610 and 1613.

Journeys Through Bookland Volume Viii Part 54

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