The sailors are
increased in number, and a phalanx of dancing devils join in their
antics.

But the chief feature of the revived _Tempest_ was the music,
the elaborate scenery, and the scenic mechanism.[19] There was
an orchestra of twenty-four violins in front of the stage, with
harpsichords and "theorbos" to accompany the voices; new songs
were dispersed about the piece with unsparing hand. The curious
new "Echo" song in Act III.--a duet between Ferdinand and Ariel--was
deemed by Pepys to be so "mighty pretty" that he requested the
composer--Bannister--to "prick him down the notes." Many times did the
audience shout with joy as Ariel, with a _corps de ballet_ in
attendance, winged his flight to the roof of the stage.

[Footnote 19: The Dryden-D'Avenant perversion of _The Tempest_ which
Pepys witnessed underwent a further deterioration in 1673, when Thomas
Shadwell, poet laureate, to the immense delight of the playgoing
public, rendered the piece's metamorphosis into an opera more
complete. In 1674 the Dryden-D'Avenant edition was reissued, with
Shadwell's textual and scenic amplification, although no indication
was given on the title-page or elsewhere of his share in the venture.
Contemporary histories of the stage make frequent reference to
Shadwell's "Opera" of _The Tempest_; but no copy was known to be
extant until Sir Ernest Clarke proved, in _The Athenaeum_ for August
25, 1906, that the second and later editions of the Dryden-D'Avenant
version embodied Shadwell's operatic embellishments, and are copies of
what was known in theatrical circles of the day as Shadwell's "Opera."
Shadwell's stage-directions are more elaborate than those of Dryden
and D'Avenant, and there are other minor innovations; but there is
little difference in the general design of the two versions. Shadwell
merely bettered Dryden's and D'Avenant's instructions.]

The scenic devices which distinguished the Restoration production of
_The Tempest_ have, indeed, hardly been excelled for ingenuity in our
own day. The arrangements for the sinking of the ship in the first
scene would do no discredit to the spectacular magnificence of the
London stage of our own day. The scene represented "a thick cloudy
sky, a very rocky coast, and a tempestuous sea in perpetual
agitation." "This tempest," according to the stage-directions, "has
many dreadful objects in it; several spirits in horrid shapes flying
down among the sailors, then rising and crossing in