SCENE I.--Another part of the
island
[Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO,
GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO,
and OTHERS]
GONZALO.
Beseech you, sir, be merry; you
have cause,
So have we all, of joy; for our
escape
Is much beyond our loss. Our
hint of woe
Is common: every day, some sailor's
wife,
The masters 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.
ALONSO.
Prithee, peace.
SEBASTIAN.
He receives comfort like cold
porridge.
ANTONIO.
The visitor will not give him
o'er so.
SEBASTIAN.
Look, he's winding up the watch
of his wit; by
and by it will strike.
GONZALO.
Sir,--
SEBASTIAN.
One: tell.
GONZALO.
When every grief is entertain'd
that's offer'd,
Comes to the entertainer--
SEBASTIAN.
A dollar.
GONZALO.
Dolour comes to him, indeed:
you have spoken
truer than you purposed.
SEBASTIAN.
You have taken it wiselier than
I meant you should.
GONZALO.
Therefore, my lord,--
ANTONIO.
Fie, what a spendthrift is he
of his tongue!
ALONSO.
I prithee, spare.
GONZALO.
Well, I have done: but yet--
SEBASTIAN.
He will be talking.
ANTONIO.
Which, of he or Adrian, for a
good wager, first
begins to crow?
SEBASTIAN.
The old cock.
ANTONIO.
The cockerel.
SEBASTIAN.
Done. The wager?
ANTONIO.
A laughter.
SEBASTIAN.
A match!
ADRIAN.
Though this island seem to be
desert,--
SEBASTIAN.
Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid.
ADRIAN.
Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,--
SEBASTIAN.
Yet--
ADRIAN.
Yet--
ANTONIO.
He could not miss it.
ADRIAN.
It must needs be of subtle, tender,
and delicate
temperance.
ANTONIO.
Temperance was a delicate wench.
SEBASTIAN.
Ay, and a subtle; as he most
learnedly delivered.
ADRIAN.
The air breathes upon us here
most sweetly.
SEBASTIAN.
As if it had lungs, and rotten
ones.
ANTONIO.
Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a fen.
GONZALO.
Here is everything advantageous
to life.
ANTONIO.
True; save means to live.
SEBASTIAN.
Of that there's none, or little.
GONZALO.
How lush and lusty the grass
looks! how green!
ANTONIO.
The ground indeed is tawny.
SEBASTIAN.
With an eye of green in't.
ANTONIO.
He misses not much.
SEBASTIAN.
No; he doth but mistake the truth
totally.
GONZALO.
But the rarity of it is,--which
is indeed almost
beyond credit,--
SEBASTIAN.
As many vouch'd rarities are.
GONZALO.
That our garments, being, as
they were, drenched
in the sea, hold notwithstanding
their freshness and
glosses, being rather new-dyed
than stain'd with salt
water.
ANTONIO.
If but one of his pockets could
speak, would it
not say he lies?
SEBASTIAN.
Ay, or very falsely pocket up
his report.
GONZALO.
Methinks, our garments are now
as fresh as when
we put them on first in Afric,
at the marriage of the
king's fair daughter Claribel
to the King of Tunis.
SEBASTIAN.
'Twas a sweet marriage, and we
prosper well in our return.
ADRIAN.
Tunis was never graced before
with such a paragon
to their queen.
GONZALO.
Not since widow Dido's time.
ANTONIO.
Widow! a pox o' that! How came
that widow in? Widow Dido!
SEBASTIAN.
What if he had said, widower
Aeneas too?
Good Lord, how you take it!
ADRIAN.
Widow Dido said you? You make
me study of that; she was of
Carthage, not of Tunis.
GONZALO.
This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.
ADRIAN.
Carthage?
GONZALO.
I assure you, Carthage.
ANTONIO.
His word is more than the miraculous
harp.
SEBASTIAN.
He hath rais'd the wall, and
houses too.
ANTONIO.
What impossible matter will he
make easy next?
SEBASTIAN.
I think he will carry this island
home in his
pocket, and give it his son for
an apple.
ANTONIO.
And, sowing the kernels of it
in the sea, bring
forth more islands.
ALONSO.
Ay.
ANTONIO.
Why, in good time.
GONZALO.
[To ALONSO.] 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.
ANTONIO.
And the rarest that e'er came
there.
SEBASTIAN.
Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
ANTONIO.
O! widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.
GONZALO.
Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh
as the first day I
wore it? I mean, in a sort.
ANTONIO.
That sort was well fish'd for.
GONZALO.
When I wore it at your daughter's
marriage?
ALONSO.
You cram these words into mine
ears against
The stomach of my sense. Would
I had never
Married my daughter there! for,
coming thence,
My son is lost; and, in my rate,
she too,
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?
FRANCISCO.
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 th' shore, that o'er his wave-worn
basis bowed,
As stooping to relieve him. I
not doubt
He came alive to land.
ALONSO.
No, no; he's gone.
SEBASTIAN.
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;
Where she, at least, is banish'd
from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief
on't.
ALONSO.
Prithee, peace.
SEBASTIAN.
You were kneel'd to, and importun'd
otherwise
By all of us; and the fair soul
herself
Weigh'd between loathness and
obedience at
Which end o' th' beam should
bow. We have lost your son,
I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples
have
More widows in them of this business'
making,
Than we bring men to comfort
them; the fault's your own.
ALONSO.
So is the dearest of the loss.
GONZALO.
My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack
some gentleness
And time to speak it in; you
rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.
SEBASTIAN.
Very well.
ANTONIO.
And most chirurgeonly.
GONZALO.
It is foul weather in us all,
good sir,
When you are cloudy.
SEBASTIAN.
Foul weather?
ANTONIO.
Very foul.
GONZALO.
Had I plantation of this isle,
my lord,--
ANTONIO.
He'd sow 't with nettle-seed.
SEBASTIAN.
Or docks, or mallows.
GONZALO.
And were the king on't, what
would I do?
SEBASTIAN.
'Scape being drunk for want of
wine.
GONZALO.
I' the commonwealth I would by
contraries
Execute all things; for no kind
of traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known;
riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract,
succession,
Bourn, 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,--
SEBASTIAN.
Yet he would be king on't.
ANTONIO.
The latter end of his commonwealth
forgets the beginning.
GONZALO.
All things in common nature should
produce
Without sweat or endeavour; treason,
felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need
of any engine,
Would I not have; but nature
should bring forth,
Of it own kind, all foison, all
abundance,
To feed my innocent people.
SEBASTIAN.
No marrying 'mong his subjects?
ANTONIO.
None, man: all idle; whores and
knaves.
GONZALO.
I would with such perfection
govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.
SEBASTIAN.
Save his Majesty!
ANTONIO.
Long live Gonzalo!
GONZALO.
And,--do you mark me, sir?
ALONSO.
Prithee, no more: thou dost talk
nothing to me.
GONZALO.
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.
ANTONIO.
'Twas you we laugh'd at.
GONZALO.
Who in this kind of merry fooling
am nothing to
you; so you may continue, and
laugh at nothing still.
ANTONIO.
What a blow was there given!
SEBASTIAN.
An it had not fallen flat-long.
GONZALO.
You are gentlemen of brave mettle:
you would
lift the moon out of her sphere,
if she would continue
in it five weeks without changing.
[Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing
solemn music]
SEBASTIAN.
We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling.
ANTONIO.
Nay, good my lord, be not angry.
GONZALO.
No, I warrant you; I will not
adventure my
discretion so weakly. Will you
laugh me asleep, for I am
very heavy?
ANTONIO.
Go sleep, and hear us.
[All sleep but ALONSO, SEBASTIAN,
and ANTONIO]
ALONSO.
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.
SEBASTIAN.
Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of
it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when
it doth,
It is a comforter.
ANTONIO.
We two, my lord,
Will guard your person while
you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
ALONSO.
Thank you. Wondrous heavy!
[ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL.]
SEBASTIAN.
What a strange drowsiness possesses
them!
ANTONIO.
It is the quality o' th' climate.
SEBASTIAN.
Why
Doth it not then our eyelids
sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.
ANTONIO.
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.
SEBASTIAN.
What! art thou waking?
ANTONIO.
Do you not hear me speak?
SEBASTIAN.
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.
ANTONIO.
Noble Sebastian,
Thou let'st thy fortune sleep--die
rather: wink'st
Whiles thou art waking.
SEBASTIAN.
Thou dost snore distinctly:
There's meaning in thy snores.
ANTONIO.
I am more serious than my custom;
you
Must be so too, if heed me: which
to do
Trebles thee o'er.
SEBASTIAN.
Well, I am standing water.
ANTONIO.
I'll teach you how to flow.
SEBASTIAN.
Do so: to ebb,
Hereditary sloth instructs me.
ANTONIO.
O!
If you but knew how you the purpose
cherish
Whiles 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.
SEBASTIAN.
Prithee, say on:
The setting of thine eye and
cheek proclaim
A matter from thee, and a birth,
indeed
Which throes thee much to yield.
ANTONIO.
Thus, sir:
Although this lord of weak remembrance,
this
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earth'd, hath here
almost persuaded,--
For he's a spirit of persuasion,
only
Professes to persuade,--the King
his son's alive,
'Tis as impossible that he's
undrown'd
As he that sleeps here swims.
SEBASTIAN.
I have no hope
That he's undrown'd.
ANTONIO.
O! out of that 'no hope'
What great hope have you! No
hope that way is
Another way so high a hope, that
even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink
beyond,
But doubts discovery there. Will
you grant with me
That Ferdinand is drown'd?
SEBASTIAN.
He's gone.
ANTONIO.
Then tell me,
Who's the next heir of Naples?
SEBASTIAN.
Claribel.
ANTONIO.
She that is Queen of Tunis; she
that dwells
Ten leagues beyond man's life;
she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the
sun were post--
The Man i' th' Moon's too slow--till
newborn chins
Be rough and razorable: she that
from whom
We all were sea-swallow'd, though
some cast again,
And by that destiny, to perform
an act
Whereof what's past is prologue,
what to come
In yours and my discharge.
SEBASTIAN.
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.
ANTONIO.
A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out 'How shall that
Claribel
Measure us back to Naples?--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
As amply and unnecessarily
As this Gonzalo: I myself could
make
A chough 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?
SEBASTIAN.
Methinks I do.
ANTONIO.
And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?
SEBASTIAN.
I remember
You did supplant your brother
Prospero.
ANTONIO.
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.
SEBASTIAN.
But, for your conscience,--
ANTONIO.
Ay, sir; where lies that? If
'twere a kibe,
'Twould put me to my slipper:
but I feel not
This deity in my bosom: twenty
consciences
That stand 'twixt me and Milan,
candied be they
And melt ere 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 dead:
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 aye
might put
This ancient morsel, this Sir
Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course.
For all the rest,
They'll take suggestion as a
cat laps milk:
They'll tell the clock to any
business that
We say befits the hour.
SEBASTIAN.
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.
ANTONIO. Draw together:
And when I rear my hand, do you
the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.
SEBASTIAN.
O! but one word.
[They converse apart.]
[Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible.]
ARIEL.
My master through his art foresees
the danger
That you, his friend, are in;
and sends me forth--
For else his project dies--to
keep thee living.
[Sings in GONZALO'S ear]
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!
ANTONIO.
Then let us both be sudden.
GONZALO.
Now, good angels
Preserve the King!
[They wake]
ALONSO.
Why, how now! Ho, awake! Why
are you drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking?
GONZALO.
What's the matter?
SEBASTIAN.
Whiles we stood here securing
your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst
of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions;
did't not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.
ALONSO.
I heard nothing.
ANTONIO.
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.
ALONSO.
Heard you this, Gonzalo?
GONZALO.
Upon mine honour, sir, I heard
a humming,
And that a strange one too, which
did awake me.
I shak'd you, sir, and cried;
as mine eyes open'd,
I saw their weapons drawn:--there
was a noise,
That's verily. 'Tis best we stand
upon our guard,
Or that we quit this place: let's
draw our weapons.
ALONSO.
Lead off this ground: and let's
make further search
For my poor son.
GONZALO.
Heavens keep him from these beasts!
For he is, sure, i' th' island.
ALONSO.
Lead away.
[Exit with the others.]
ARIEL.
Prospero my lord shall know what
I have done:
So, King, go safely on to seek
thy son.
[Exit]
SCENE II. Another part of the
island
[Enter CALIBAN, with a burden
of wood. A noise of thunder
heard]
CALIBAN.
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 firebrand,
in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid
'em; but
For every trifle are they set
upon me:
Sometime like apes that mow and
chatter at me,
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 wound with adders, who with
cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness.--
[Enter TRINCULO]
Lo, now, lo!
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.
TRINCULO.
Here's neither bush nor shrub
to bear off any
weather at all, and another storm
brewing; I hear it
sing i' th' wind; yond same black
cloud, yond huge one,
looks like a foul bombard 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 choose but fall by
pailfuls.--What have we here?
a man or a fish? dead or
alive? A fish: 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 painted, not
a holiday fool there but
would give a piece of silver:
there would this monster
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 a dead
Indian. Legg'd like a
man, and his fins like arms!
Warm, o' my troth! I do now
let loose my opinion: hold it
no longer; this is no
fish, but an islander, that hath
lately suffered by
thunderbolt. [Thunder] Alas,
the storm is come again! My
best way is to creep under his
gaberdine; there is no
other shelter hereabout: misery
acquaints a man with
strange bed-fellows. I will here
shroud till the dregs
of the storm be past.
[Enter STEPHANO singing; a bottle
in his hand]
STEPHANO.
I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die 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 tailor might scratch her
wher-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]
CALIBAN.
Do not torment me: O!
STEPHANO.
What's the matter? Have we devils
here? Do you
put tricks upon us with savages
and men of Ind? Ha! I
have not 'scaped drowning, to
be afeard now of your four
legs; for it hath been said,
As proper a man as ever
went on four legs cannot make
him give ground: and it
shall be said so again, while
Stephano breathes at 's
nostrils.
CALIBAN.
The spirit torments me: O!
STEPHANO.
This is some monster of the isle
with four legs,
who hath 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 him, he's a
present for any emperor that
ever trod on neat's-leather.
CALIBAN.
Do not torment me, prithee; I'll
bring my wood
home faster.
STEPHANO.
He's in his fit now and does
not talk after the
wisest. He shall taste of my
bottle: if he have 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
too much for him: he shall pay
for him that hath him,
and that soundly.
CALIBAN.
Thou dost me yet but little hurt;
thou wilt anon,
I know it by thy trembling: now
Prosper works upon thee.
STEPHANO.
Come on your ways: open your
mouth; here is
that which will give language
to you, cat. Open your
mouth: this will shake your shaking,
I can tell you, and
that soundly [gives CALIBAN a
drink]: you cannot tell who's
your
friend: open your chaps again.
TRINCULO.
I should know that voice: it
should be--but he is
drowned; and these are devils.
O! defend me.
STEPHANO.
Four legs and two voices; a most
delicate monster!
His forward voice 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 will recover
him, I will help his ague. Come.
Amen! I will pour some
in thy other mouth.
TRINCULO.
Stephano!
STEPHANO.
Doth thy other mouth call me?
Mercy! mercy!
This is a devil, and no monster:
I will leave him: I
have no long spoon.
TRINCULO.
Stephano!--If thou beest Stephano,
touch me, and
speak to me; for I am Trinculo:--be
not afeared--thy good
friend Trinculo.
STEPHANO.
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
to be the siege of this moon-calf?
Can he vent Trinculos?
TRINCULO.
I took him to be kill'd with
a thunderstroke.
But art thou not drown'd, Stephano?
I hope now thou are
not drown'd. Is the storm overblown?
I hid me under the
dead moon-calf's gaberdine for
fear of the storm. And
art thou living, Stephano? O
Stephano, two Neapolitans
'scaped!
STEPHANO.
Prithee, do not turn me about:
my stomach is not constant.
CALIBAN.
[Aside] These be fine things,
an if they be not sprites.
That's a brave god, and bears
celestial liquor;
I will kneel to him.
STEPHANO.
How didst thou 'scape? How cam'st
thou hither? swear
by this bottle how thou cam'st
hither--I escaped upon
a butt of sack, which the sailors
heaved overboard, by
this bottle! which I made of
the bark of a tree, with
mine own hands, since I was cast
ashore.
CALIBAN.
I'll swear upon that bottle to
be thy true
subject, for the liquor is not
earthly.
STEPHANO.
Here: swear then how thou escapedst.
TRINCULO.
Swum ashore, man, like a duck:
I can swim like
a duck, I'll be sworn.
STEPHANO.
[Passing the bottle] Here, kiss
the book [gives
TRINCULO a drink]. Though thou
canst swim like a
duck, thou art made like a goose.
TRINCULO.
O Stephano! hast any more of
this?
STEPHANO.
The whole butt, man: my cellar
is in a rock by
the seaside, where my wine is
hid. How now, moon-calf!
How does thine ague?
CALIBAN.
Hast thou not dropped from heaven?
STEPHANO.
Out o' the moon, I do assure
thee: I was the Man
in the Moon, when time was.
CALIBAN.
I have seen thee in her, and
I do adore thee, my
mistress showed me thee, and
thy dog and thy bush.
STEPHANO.
Come, swear to that; kiss the
book; I will
furnish it anon with new contents;
swear.
TRINCULO.
By this good light, this is a
very shallow
monster.--I afeard of him!--A
very weak monster.
--The Man i' the Moon! A most
poor credulous
monster!--Well drawn, monster,
in good sooth!
CALIBAN.
I'll show thee every fertile
inch o' the island;
And I will kiss thy foot. I prithee,
be my god.
TRINCULO.
By this light, a most perfidious
and drunken
monster: when his god's asleep,
he'll rob his bottle.
CALIBAN.
I'll kiss thy foot: I'll swear
myself thy subject.
STEPHANO.
Come on, then; down, and swear.
TRINCULO.
I shall laugh myself to death
at this puppy-headed
monster. A most scurvy monster!
I could find in
my heart to beat him,--
STEPHANO.
Come, kiss.
TRINCULO.
But that the poor monster's in
drink: an
abominable monster!
CALIBAN.
I'll show 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 wondrous man.
TRINCULO.
A most ridiculous monster, to
make a wonder of
a poor drunkard!
CALIBAN.
I prithee, let me bring thee
where crabs grow;
And I with my long nails will
dig thee pig-nuts;
Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct
thee how
To snare the nimble marmozet;
I'll bring thee
To clust'ring filberts, and sometimes
I'll get thee
Young scamels from the rock.
Wilt thou go with me?
STEPHANO.
I prithee now, lead the way without
any more
talking--Trinculo, the king and
all our company else
being drowned, we will inherit
here.--Here, bear my
bottle.--Fellow Trinculo, we'll
fill him by and by
again.
CALIBAN.
Farewell, master; farewell, farewell!
[Sings drunkenly]
TRINCULO.
A howling monster, a drunken
monster.
CALIBAN.
No more dams I'll make for fish;
Nor fetch in firing
At requiring,
Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash
dish;
'Ban 'Ban, Ca--Caliban,
Has a new master--Get a new man.
Freedom, high-day! high-day,
freedom! freedom,
high-day, freedom!
STEPHANO.
O brave monster! lead the way.
[Exeunt]
|