Alonso begs forgiveness, and, not that sort of trifle? (5.1.111-125) #StormTossed

ALONSO                                             Whe’er thou be’st he or no,

Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me

(As late I have been), I not know. Thy pulse

Beats as of flesh and blood; and since I saw thee,

Th’affliction of my mind amends, with which

I fear a madness held me. This must crave—

An if this be at all—a most strange story.

Thy dukedom I resign and do entreat

Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should Prospero

Be living and be here?

PROSPERO     [to Gonzalo]                First, noble friend,

Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot

Be measured or confined.

GONZALO                                           Whether this be

Or be not, I’ll not swear.

PROSPERO                                         You do yet taste

Some subtleties o’th’ isle that will not let you

Believe things certain. (5.1.111-125)

 

Alonso: amazed and baffled, half-suspecting that this too is a trick, another enchanted trifle (like the banquet and the spirits, an illusion) sent to torment and abuse him. (Not that sort of trifle.) Abuse is mistreat here, but also deceive and confuse; mental violence as well as physical. And that’s what they’ve been experiencing on the island, since the storm and the wreck; that’s why they’re in this state. (Remember that Alonso still believes that his son is dead.) Yet Alonso must concede that Prospero’s pulse beats as of flesh and blood (are they still embracing, heart to heart, an anxious, wondering, middle-aged man-hug?) and also that th’affliction of his mind amends. He’s feeling better, clearer-headed, more himself. Less prone to delusion and illusion. There must be a most extraordinary story to be told about this, in order to explain it. (Alonso, you have no idea…) But he makes up his mind on the spot: thy dukedom I resign, that is, he revokes his granting of that title to Antonio, and returns it to Prospero, which he can do, as Milan has become a client state of Naples. And he asks for forgiveness, not just mercy: I do entreat thou pardon me my wrongs. An immediate and apparently sincere conversion, but he is still amazed: how is it that Prospero is alive? How is it that he’s here, of all places? (A reminder that Prospero and Miranda ended up on the island by chance, not design, in the first place.)

But Prospero now has eyes only for Gonzalo, his loyal, noble friend, embracing him with affection and gratitude, and honouring him for his constancy and kindness. Gonzalo too is amazed, unsure whether this be or be not. Prospero understands. Gonzalo is still dazed by all that has happened: you do yet taste some subtleties o’th’ isle that will not let you believe things certain, that is, you’re still suffering the after-effects of the enchantments, all the devices that have delighted and distracted and deceived you. You don’t know what’s real and what’s an illusion. But there’s a playful quibble here, in that a subtlety is also a sweetmeat, a device made of sugar, a fancy dessert, such as might have been the centrepiece of the disappearing banquet. A ship (or a harpy) made of sugar paste and marzipan! (Which means that, actually, it could be that sort of trifle, or the early modern equivalent, a kind of fool. Yes, in the midst of this scene of reunion, repentance, and reconciliation, Prospero may in fact be indulging in pudding-related verbal humour.)

(Probably not. But it’s a nice idea.)

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