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.

I.ii.321 (23,2)

[As wicked dew, as e'er my mother brush'd
With raven's feather from unwholsome fen,
Drop on you both!]

[Some critics, Bentley among them, had spoken of Caliban's new
language.] Whence these critics derived the notion of a new
language appropriated to Caliban, I cannot find: they certainly
mistook brutality of sentiment for uncouthness of words. Caliban
had learned to speak of Prospero and his daughter, he had no
names for the sun and moon before their arrival, and could not
have invented a language of his own without more understanding
than Shakespeare has thought it proper to bestow upon him. His
diction is indeed somewhat clouded by the gloominess of his temper,
and the malignity of his purposes; but let any other being
entertain the same thoughts, and he will find them easily issue