or 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 principal 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.

The story seems to have been original with Shakespeare; at least no
satisfactory evidence has been given to show that he borrowed it. This
is rather unusual, for Shakespeare showed a fine contempt for
originality, and borrowed the plots of his plays from a great variety of
sources. His own version of each story, however, was so masterly that no
one regrets that he availed himself of all the assistance he could get.

The scene of the play is laid on an island; what island we do not know.
Probably it is as mythical as the events that happened on it.

_The Tempest_ is one of Shakespeare's most perfect plays. In form it is
perfect, and follows, more closely than was customary with him, the
strict laws of the old Greek dramas, the laws which critics still uphold
as those governing the highest art. The three unities are here observed:
The events all occur in a single day; they happen in a single place;
from beginning to end there is one continuous line of thought. Only the
last characteristic is still generally observed by dramatic writers.

Beside perfection in form, _The Tempest_ shows the greatest nicety in
the way the natural and supernatural move along together without a
single interference. It is difficult to think of the magic art of
Prospero as more marvelous than the coarse plotting of Sebastian, or to
consider the delicate Ariel and the mis-shapen Caliban less human than
the manly Ferdinand, or the hon