Prospero. Thy false uncle— _Dost thou attend me?_ Miranda. Sir, most heedfully. Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them; whom to advance, and whom To trash for over-topping: new created The creatures that were mine, _I say_, or chang’d ’em, Or else new form’d ’em: having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts i’ the state To what tune pleas’d his ear; that now he was The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk, And suck’d my verdure out on’t.—_Thou attend’st not._ Mira. O, good sir, I do. Pro. _I pray thee, mark me._ I thus, neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate To closeness, and the bettering of my mind, With that, which, but by being so retired, O’er-priz’d all popular rate, in my false brother Awak’d an evil nature: and my trust, Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood, in its contrary as great As my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded, Not only with what my revenue yielded, But what my power might else exact,—like one, Who having unto truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie,—he did believe He was indeed the duke; out of the substitution, And executing the outward face of royalty, With all prerogative:—Hence his ambition Growing—_Dost hear?_ Now, what means the inattention of the young girl? Why does her mind wander from a history—one would suppose the most interesting revelation which could be made to her—so that her father cannot, apparently, keep her attention to the end of it? Thousands of people read and see this play without knowing that she is under the operation of a _sleeping-spell_, administered by her father. Again, why is Prospero so harsh and coarse to Ariel? The most delicate creature that ever man had to do with—all gentleness—all submission, yet hear how the great and good magician uses him. Pro. “Thou dost forget,” etc. Ariel. I do not, sir. Pro. “Thou liest, malignant thing,” etc. Again of Sycorax— Pro. This damn’d witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier, Thou know’st was banished; _for one thing she did They would not take her life_. Now what _was_ that _one thing_? * * * * * THE WILDWOOD HOME. BY LYDIA JANE PIERSON. Oh! show a place like the wildwood home, Where the air is fragrant and free, And the first pure breathings of morning come In a gush of melody, As she lifts the soft fringe from her dark blue eye, With a radiant smile of love, And the diamonds that over her bosom lie, Are bright as the gems above.