SCENE I.
Another part of the island.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others.
Gonz.
Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have cause
(So have we all) of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss: 5 noteOur hint of woe
Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
The master of some merchant, and the merchant,
Have just our theme of woe: but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.
Alon.
6 note
Pr'ythee, peace.
-- 41 --
Seb.
He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant.
7 noteThe visitor will not give him o'er so.
Seb.
Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit;
by and by it will strike.
Gon.
Sir,—
Seb.
One:—Tell.
Gon.
When every grief is entertain'd, that's offer'd,
Comes to the entertainer—
Seb.
A dollar8 note
.
Gon.
Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have
spoken truer than you purpos'd.
Seb.
You have taken it wiselier than I meant you
should.
Gon.
Therefore, my lord,—
Ant.
Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue!
-- 42 --
Alon.
I pr'ythee, spare.
Gon.
Well, I have done: But yet—
Seb.
He will be talking.
Ant.
Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good
wager, first begins to crow?
Seb.
The old cock.
Ant.
The cockrel.
Seb.
Done: The wager?
Ant.
A laughter.
Seb.
A match.
Adr.
Though this island seem to be desert,—
Seb.
Ha, ha, ha!
Ant.
So, you've pay'd.
Adr.
Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,—
Seb.
Yet,
Adr.
Yet—
Ant.
He could not miss't.
Adr.
It must needs be of subtle, tender, 9 noteand delicate
temperance.
Ant.
1 note
Temperance was a delicate wench.
Seb.
Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly deliver'd.
Adr.
The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb.
As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant.
Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a fen.
Gon.
Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant.
True; save means to live.
Seb.
Of that there's none, or little.
-- 43 --
Gon.
2 noteHow lush and lusty the grass looks?9Q0052 how
green?
Ant.
The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb.
With an eye of green in't3 note
.
Ant.
He misses not much.
Seb.
No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.
Gon.
But the rarity of it is (which is, indeed, almost beyond credit)—
Seb.
As many vouch'd rarities are.
Gon.
That our garments, being, as they were,
drench'd in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness,
and glosses; being rather new dy'd, than stain'd
with salt water.
Ant.
If but one of his pockets could speak, would
it not say, he lies?
Seb.
Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.
Gon.
Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as
when we put them on first in Africk, at the marriage
of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king
of Tunis.
Seb.
'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well
in our return.
Adr.
Tunis was never grac'd before with such a
paragon to their queen.
Gon.
Not since widow Dido's time.
Ant.
Widow? a pox o' that! How came that
widow in? 4 note
Widow Dido!9Q0054
-- 44 --
Seb.
What if he had said, widower Æneas too?
good lord, how you take it!
Adr.
Widow Dido, said you? you make me study
of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis.
Gon.
This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.
Adr.
Carthage?
Gon.
I assure you, Carthage.
Ant.
His word is more than the miraculous harp5 note.
Seb.
He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.
Ant.
What impossible matter will he make easy
next?
Seb.
I think, he will carry this island home in his
pocket, and give it his son for an apple.
Ant.
And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea,
bring forth more islands.
Gon.
Ay?
Ant.
Why, in good time.
Gon.
Sir, we were talking, that our garments seem
now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis at the marriage
of your daughter, who is now queen.
Ant.
And the rarest that e'er came there.
Seb.
Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Ant.
O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.
Gon.
Is not, sir, my doublet, as fresh as the first
day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.
Ant.
That sort was well fish'd for.
Gonz.
When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?
Alon.
You cram these words into mine ears, against
The stomach of my sense6 note
: Would I had never
Marry'd my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
-- 45 --
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,
I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee!
Fran.
Sir, he may live;
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt,
He came alive to land.
Alon.
No, no, he's gone.
Seb.
Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss;
That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,
But rather lose her to an African;9Q0055
Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.
Alon.
Pr'ythee, peace.
Seb.
You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise
By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at
Which end the beam should bow. We have lost your son,
I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business' making,
7 noteThan we bring men to comfort them: the fault's
Your own.
Alon.
So is the dearest o' the loss.
Gon.
My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
-- 46 --
And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaister.
Seb.
Very well.
Ant.
And most chirurgeonly.
Gon.
It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.
Seb.
Foul weather?
Ant.
Very foul.
Gon.
Had I the plantation of this isle, my lord,—
Ant.
He'd sow't with nettle-seed.
Seb.
Or docks, or mallows.
Gon.
And were the king of it, What would I do?
Seb.
'Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
Gon.
I' the commonwealth, I would by contraries
Execute all things:9Q0056 for no kind of traffick
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn8 note, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none:
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil:
No occupation; all men idle, all,
And women too, but innocent and pure:
No sovereignty.
Seb.
And yet he would be king on't.
Ant.
9 noteThe latter end of his commonwealth forgets
the beginning.
Gon.
All things in common nature should produce
Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine1 note
,
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
-- 47 --
Of its own kind, all 2 note
foizon, all abundance
To feed my innocent people.
Seb.
No marrying 'mong his subjects?
Ant.
None, man: all idle; whores, and knaves.
Gon.
I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.
Seb.
'Save his majesty!
Ant.
Long live Gonzalo!
Gon.
And, do you mark me, sir?
Alon.
Pr'ythee, no more; thou dost talk nothing
to me.
Gon.
I do well believe your highness; and did it
to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of
such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use
to laugh at nothing.
Ant.
'Twas you we laugh'd at.
Gon.
Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing
to you: so you may continue, and laugh at
nothing still.
Ant.
What a blow was there given?
Seb.
An it had not fallen flat-long.
Gon.
You are gentlemen of brave metal9Q0057; you
would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would
continue in it five weeks without changing.
Enter Ariel, playing solemn musick.
Seb.
We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.
Ant.
Nay, my good lord, be not angry.
Gon.
No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my
-- 48 --
discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for
I am very heavy?
Ant.
Go, sleep,and hear us.
[Gonz. Adr. Fra. &c. sleep.
Alon.
What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find,
They are inclin'd to do so.
Seb.
Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.
Ant.
We two, my lord,
Will guard your person, while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
Alon.
Thank you: Wond'rous heavy—
[All sleep but Seb. and Ant.
Seb.
What a strange drowsiness possesses them?
Ant.
It is the quality o' the climate.
Seb.
Why
Doth it not then our eye-lids sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.
Ant.
Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian?—O, what might?—No more:—
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,
What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee; and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
Seb.
What, art thou waking?
Ant.
Do you not hear me speak?
Seb.
I do; and, surely,
It is a sleepy language; and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep: What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving;
And yet so fast asleep.
Ant.
Noble Sebastian,
-- 49 --
Thou let'st thy fortune sleep, die rather; wink'st
Whiles thou art waking.
Seb.
Thou dost snore distinctly;
There's meaning in thy snores.
Ant.
I am more serious than my custom: you
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do,
Trebles thee o'er.9Q0058
Seb.
Well; I am standing water.
Ant.
I'll teach you how to flow.
Seb.
Do so: to ebb,
Hereditary sloth instructs me.
Ant.
O,
If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish,
Whilst thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
Most often, do so near the bottom run,
By their own fear, or sloth.
Seb.
Pr'ythee, say on:
The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim
A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
Which throes thee much to yield.
Ant.
Thus, sir:
Although 2 notethis lord of weak remembrance, this,
(Who shall be of as little memory,
When he is earth'd) hath here almost persuaded,
(3 note
For he's a spirit of persuasion, only
-- 50 --
Professes to persuade) the king, his son's alive;
'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd,
As he, that sleeps here, swims.
Seb.
I have no hope
That he's undrown'd.
Ant.
O, out of that no hope,
What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is
Another way so high an hope, that even
Ambition cannot pierce 4 notea wink beyond,
But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with me,
That Ferdinand is drown'd?
Seb.
He's gone.
Ant.
Then, tell me,
Who's the next heir of Naples?
Seb.
Claribel.
Ant.
She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells
Ten leagues beyond man's life; 5 note
she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post,
(The man i' the moon's too slow) till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable; she, from whom
-- 51 --
We were all sea-swallow'd, 6 note
though some cast again;
And, by that destiny7 note, to perform an act,
Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come,
In yours, and my discharge.
Seb.
What stuff is this?—How say you?
'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis;
So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions
There is some space.
Ant.
A space, whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples?—8 note
Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake!—Say, this were death
That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no worse
Than now they are: There be, that can rule Naples,
As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate
-- 52 --
As amply, and unnecessarily,
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A chough9 note of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement? Do you understand me?
Seb.
Methinks, I do.
Ant.
And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?
Seb.
I remember,
You did supplant your brother Prospero.
Ant.
True:
And, look, how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before: My brother's servants
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.
Seb.
But, for your conscience—
Ant.
Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kybe,
'Twould put me to my slipper; But I feel not
This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candy'd be they,
1 note
And melt, e'er they molest. Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon,
If he were that which now he's like, that's dead2 note;
-- 53 --
Whom I with this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever: whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink, for ay3 note
might put
4 note
This ancient morsel, this sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll 5 notetake suggestion, as a cat laps milk;9Q0059
They'll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.
Seb.
Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st;
And I the king shall love thee.
Ant.
Draw together:
And when I rear my hand, do you the like
To fall it on Gonzalo.
Seb.
O, but one word.
[They converse apart.
Enter Ariel, with musick and song.
Ari.
My master through his art foresees the danger,
That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth
(For else his project dies) 6 note
to keep them living.
[Sings in Gonzalo's ear.
-- 54 --
While you here do snoring lie,
Open-ey'd conspiracy
His time doth take:
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake! awake!
Ant.
Then let us both be sudden.
Gon.
Now, good angels, preserve the king!
[They wake.
Alon.
Why, how now, ho! awake? Why are you 7 note
drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking?
Gon.
What's the matter?
Seb.
Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions; did it not wake you?
It strook mine ear most terribly.
Alon.
I heard nothing.
Ant.
O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear;
To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar
Of a whole herd of lions.
Alon.
Heard you this, Gonzalo?
Gon.
Upon my honour, sir, I heard a humming,
-- 55 --
And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd; as mine eyes open'd,
I saw their weapons drawn:—there was a noise,
That's verity8 note: 'Tis best we stand upon our guard;
Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.
Alon.
Lead off this ground; and let's make further search
For my poor son.
Gon.
Heavens keep him from these beasts!
For he is, sure, i' the island.
Alon.
Lead away.
Ari.
Prospero my lord shall know what I have done.
[Aside.
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Another part of the island.
Enter Caliban with a burden of wood: A noise of thunder heard.
Cal.
All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but
For every trifle they are set upon me:
Sometime like apes, 9 note
that moe and chatter at me,
-- 56 --
And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I
All 1 notewound with adders, who, with cloven tongues,
Do hiss me into madness:—Lo! now! lo!
Enter Trinculo.
Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me,
For bringing wood in slowly: I'll fall flat;
Perchance, he will not mind me.
Trin.
Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off
any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear
it sing i' the wind: yond' same black cloud, yond'
huge one, 2 note
looks like a foul bumbard that would
shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it did before,
I know not where to hide my head: yond' same
cloud cannot chuse but fall by pailfuls.—What have
we here? a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish:
-- 57 --
he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like
smell; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John. A
strange fish! Were I in England now, (as once I was)
and had but this fish painted3 note
, not a holiday-fool
there but would give a piece of silver: there would
this monster 4 note
make a man; any strange beast there
makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve
a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see 5 note
a
dead Indian.9Q0060 Legg'd like a man! and his sins like
arms! Warm, o' my troth! I do now let loose my
opinion6 note
, hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an
islander, that has lately suffer'd by a thunder-bolt.
Alas! the storm is come again: my best way is to
creep under 7 note
note
So in Look about you, 1600:
“I'll conjure his gaberdine.” The gaberdine is still worn by
the peasants in Sussex.
Steevens.
his gaberdine; there is no other shelter
-- 58 --
hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange
bedfellows: I will here shrowd, till the dregs of the
storm be past.
Enter Stephano singing, a bottle in his hand.
Ste.
I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I dye a-shore,—
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral:
Well, here's my comfort.
[Drinks.
The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I,
The gunner and his mate,
Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
But none of us car'd for Kate:
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go, hang:
She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
Yet a taylor might scratch her where-e'er she did itch:
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.
This is a scurvy tune too: But here's my comfort.
[Drinks.
Cal.
Do not torment me: Oh!
Ste.
What's the matter? Have we devils here?
Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of
Inde? Ha! I have not 'scap'd drowning, to be afraid
now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As
proper a man as ever went upon four legs, cannot
make him give ground: and it shall be said so again,
while Stephano breathes at nostrils.
Cal.
The spirit torments me: Oh!
Ste.
This is some monster of the isle, with four
legs; who has got, as I take it, an ague: Where the
devil should he learn our language? I will give him
some relief, if it be but for that: If I can recover
him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples with
-- 59 --
him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod
on neats-leather.
Cal.
Do not torment me, pr'ythee; I'll bring my
wood home faster.
Ste.
He's in his fit now; and does not talk after
the wisest: He shall taste of my bottle: if he never
drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit:
if I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not
take 8 note
too much for him; he shall pay for him that
hath him, and that soundly.
Cal.
Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt
anon, 9 note
I know it by thy trembling: Now Prosper
works upon thee.
Ste.
Come on your ways; open your mouth; here
is that which will give language to you, 1 notecat; open
your mouth: this will shake your shaking, I can tell
you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your
friend; open your chaps again.
Trin.
I should know that voice: It should be,—
But he is drown'd; and these are devils: O! defend
me!—
Ste.
Four legs, and two voices; a most delicate
monster! His forward voice2 note now is to speak well
of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul
speeches, and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle
-- 60 --
will recover him, I will help his ague: Come—3 noteAmen!
I will pour some in thy other mouth.
Trin.
Stephano,—
Ste.
Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy! mercy!
This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave
him; 4 note
I have no long spoon.
Trin.
Stephano!—if thou beest Stephano, touch
me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo;—be not
afraid,—thy good friend Trinculo.
Ste.
If thou beest Trinculo, come forth; I'll pull
thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs,
these are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed:
How cam'st thou 5 note
to be the siege of this moon-calf?
can he vent Trinculos?
Trin.
I took him to be kill'd with a thunder-stroke:
—But art thou not drown'd Stephano? I hope now,
thou art not drown'd. Is the storm over-blown? I
hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine, for
fear of the storm: And art thou living, Stephano?
O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scap'd!
Ste.
Pr'ythee, do not turn me about; my stomach
is not constant.
Cal.
These be fine things, an if they be not sprights.
-- 61 --
That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor:
I will kneel to him.
Ste.
How did'st thou 'scape? How cam'st thou
hither? swear, by this bottle, how thou cam'st hither.
I escap'd upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heav'd
over-board, by this bottle! which I made of the bark
of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast
a-shore.
Cal.
I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy true
subject; for the liquor is not earthly.
Ste.
Here; swear then, how escap'dst thou?
Trin.
Swom a-shore, man, like a duck; I can swim
like a duck, I'll be sworn.
Ste.
Here, kiss the book: Though thou can'st
swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose.
Trin.
O Stephano, hast any more of this?
Ste.
The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a rock
by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now,
moon-calf? how does thine ague?
Cal.
Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven6 note?
Ste.
Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the
man in the moon, when time was.
Cal.
I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee:
my mistress shew'd me thee, and thy dog, and thy
bush.
Ste.
Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will
furnish it anon with new contents: swear.
Trin.
By this good light this is a very shallow monster:
—7 noteI afraid of him?—a very weak monster:—
The man i' the moon?—a most poor credulous monster:
—Well drawn, monster, in good sooth.
-- 62 --
Cal.
I'll shew thee every fertile inch o' the isle;
And I will 8 notekiss thy foot: I pr'ythee, be my god.
Trin.
By this light, a most perfidious and drunken
monster; when his god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle.
Cal.
I'll kiss thy foot: I'll swear myself thy subject.
Ste.
Come on then; down, and swear.
Trin.
I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed
monster: A most scurvy monster! I could
find in my heart to beat him,—
Ste.
Come, kiss.
Trin.
—But that the poor monster's in drink:
An abominable monster!
Cal.
I'll shew thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries;
I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wond'rous man.
Trin.
A most ridiculous monster; to make a wonder
of a poor drunkard.
Cal.
I pr'ythee, 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 9 note
scamels from the rock: Wilt thou go with me?
-- 63 --
Ste.
I pr'ythee now, lead the way, without any
more talking.—Trinculo, the king and all our company
being drown'd, we will inherit here.—Here;
bear my bottle! Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by
and by again.
Cal. [Sings drunkenly.]
Farewell master; farewell, farewell.
Trin.
A howling monster; a drunken monster.
-- 64 --
Cal.
No more dams I'll make for fish;
Nor fetch in firing
At requiring,
Nor scrape 1 notetrencher, nor wash dish;9Q0061
Ban' Ban', Ca—Caliban,
Has a new master—Get a new Man.
Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom,
hey-day, freedom!
Ste.
O brave monster! lead the way.
[Exeunt.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].