Part 3

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 ashore—_

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 where’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 ’s with savages and men of Ind? Ha? I have not scap’d 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’ 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 scap’d!

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 o’erboard, 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. Here, kiss the book. 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 th’ 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 ’s 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 marmoset; I’ll bring thee To clustering 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. [_Sings drunkenly._] _Farewell, master; farewell, farewell!_

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, Cacaliban, 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._]

## ACT III

## SCENE I. Before Prospero’s cell.

Enter Ferdinand bearing a log.

FERDINAND. There be some sports are painful, and their labour Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters Point to rich ends. This my mean task Would be as heavy to me as odious, but The mistress which I serve quickens what’s dead, And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is Ten times more gentle than her father’s crabbed, And he’s compos’d of harshness. I must remove Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up, Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress Weeps when she sees me work, and says such baseness Had never like executor. I forget: But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours, Most busy, least when I do it.

Enter Miranda and Prospero behind.

MIRANDA. Alas now, pray you, Work not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin’d to pile! Pray, set it down and rest you. When this burns, ’Twill weep for having wearied you. My father Is hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself: He’s safe for these three hours.

FERDINAND. O most dear mistress, The sun will set, before I shall discharge What I must strive to do.

MIRANDA. If you’ll sit down, I’ll bear your logs the while. Pray give me that; I’ll carry it to the pile.

FERDINAND. No, precious creature; I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo, While I sit lazy by.

MIRANDA. It would become me As well as it does you: and I should do it With much more ease; for my good will is to it, And yours it is against.

PROSPERO. [_Aside._] Poor worm! thou art infected. This visitation shows it.

MIRANDA. You look wearily.

FERDINAND. No, noble mistress; ’tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night. I do beseech you— Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers— What is your name?

MIRANDA. Miranda—O my father! I have broke your hest to say so.

FERDINAND. Admir’d Miranda! Indeed, the top of admiration; worth What’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady I have ey’d with best regard, and many a time Th’ harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues Have I lik’d several women; never any With so full soul but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow’d, And put it to the foil: but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature’s best.

MIRANDA. I do not know One of my sex; no woman’s face remember, Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen More that I may call men than you, good friend, And my dear father: how features are abroad, I am skilless of; but, by my modesty, The jewel in my dower, I would not wish Any companion in the world but you; Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle Something too wildly, and my father’s precepts I therein do forget.

FERDINAND. I am, in my condition, A prince, Miranda; I do think, a King; I would not so!—and would no more endure This wooden slavery than to suffer The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service; there resides, To make me slave to it; and for your sake Am I this patient log-man.

MIRANDA. Do you love me?

FERDINAND. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound, And crown what I profess with kind event, If I speak true; if hollowly, invert What best is boded me to mischief! I, Beyond all limit of what else i’ the world, Do love, prize, honour you.

MIRANDA. I am a fool To weep at what I am glad of.

PROSPERO. [_Aside._] Fair encounter Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between ’em!

FERDINAND. Wherefore weep you?

MIRANDA. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give; and much less take What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife if you will marry me; If not, I’ll die your maid: to be your fellow You may deny me; but I’ll be your servant, Whether you will or no.

FERDINAND. My mistress, dearest; And I thus humble ever.

MIRANDA. My husband, then?

FERDINAND. Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e’er of freedom: here’s my hand.

MIRANDA. And mine, with my heart in ’t: and now farewell Till half an hour hence.

FERDINAND. A thousand thousand!

[_Exeunt Ferdinand and Miranda severally._]

PROSPERO. So glad of this as they, I cannot be, Who are surpris’d withal; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I’ll to my book; For yet, ere supper time, must I perform Much business appertaining.

[_Exit._]

## SCENE II. Another part of the island.

Enter Caliban with a bottle, Stephano and Trinculo.

STEPHANO. Tell not me:—when the butt is out we will drink water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and board ’em. Servant-monster, drink to me.

TRINCULO. Servant-monster! The folly of this island! They say there’s but five upon this isle; we are three of them; if th’ other two be brained like us, the state totters.

STEPHANO. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes are almost set in thy head.

TRINCULO. Where should they be set else? He were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.

STEPHANO. My man-monster hath drown’d his tongue in sack: for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I could recover the shore, five-and-thirty leagues, off and on, by this light. Thou shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or my standard.

TRINCULO. Your lieutenant, if you list; he’s no standard.

STEPHANO. We’ll not run, Monsieur monster.

TRINCULO. Nor go neither. But you’ll lie like dogs, and yet say nothing neither.

STEPHANO. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good moon-calf.

CALIBAN. How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe. I’ll not serve him, he is not valiant.

TRINCULO. Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to justle a constable. Why, thou deboshed fish thou, was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as I today? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster?

CALIBAN. Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?

TRINCULO. “Lord” quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural!

CALIBAN. Lo, lo again! bite him to death, I prithee.

STEPHANO. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if you prove a mutineer, the next tree! The poor monster’s my subject, and he shall not suffer indignity.

CALIBAN. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas’d to hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?

STEPHANO. Marry. will I. Kneel and repeat it. I will stand, and so shall Trinculo.

Enter Ariel, invisible.

CALIBAN. As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island.

ARIEL. Thou liest.

CALIBAN. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou; I would my valiant master would destroy thee; I do not lie.

STEPHANO. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in his tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.

TRINCULO. Why, I said nothing.

STEPHANO. Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.

CALIBAN. I say, by sorcery he got this isle; From me he got it. If thy greatness will, Revenge it on him,—for I know thou dar’st; But this thing dare not,—

STEPHANO. That’s most certain.

CALIBAN. Thou shalt be lord of it and I’ll serve thee.

STEPHANO. How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou bring me to the party?

CALIBAN. Yea, yea, my lord: I’ll yield him thee asleep, Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.

ARIEL. Thou liest. Thou canst not.

CALIBAN. What a pied ninny’s this! Thou scurvy patch! I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows, And take his bottle from him: when that’s gone He shall drink nought but brine; for I’ll not show him Where the quick freshes are.

STEPHANO. Trinculo, run into no further danger: interrupt the monster one word further, and by this hand, I’ll turn my mercy out o’ doors, and make a stock-fish of thee.

TRINCULO. Why, what did I? I did nothing. I’ll go farther off.

STEPHANO. Didst thou not say he lied?

ARIEL. Thou liest.

STEPHANO. Do I so? Take thou that.

[_Strikes Trinculo._]

As you like this, give me the lie another time.

TRINCULO. I did not give the lie. Out o’ your wits and hearing too? A pox o’ your bottle! this can sack and drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the devil take your fingers!

CALIBAN. Ha, ha, ha!

STEPHANO. Now, forward with your tale.—Prithee stand further off.

CALIBAN. Beat him enough: after a little time, I’ll beat him too.

STEPHANO. Stand farther.—Come, proceed.

CALIBAN. Why, as I told thee, ’tis a custom with him I’ th’ afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him, Having first seiz’d his books; or with a log Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember First to possess his books; for without them He’s but a sot, as I am, nor hath not One spirit to command: they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burn but his books. He has brave utensils,—for so he calls them,— Which, when he has a house, he’ll deck withal. And that most deeply to consider is The beauty of his daughter; he himself Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman But only Sycorax my dam and she; But she as far surpasseth Sycorax As great’st does least.

STEPHANO. Is it so brave a lass?

CALIBAN. Ay, lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth brave brood.

STEPHANO. Monster, I will kill this man. His daughter and I will be king and queen,—save our graces!—and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo?

TRINCULO. Excellent.

STEPHANO. Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but while thou liv’st, keep a good tongue in thy head.

CALIBAN. Within this half hour will he be asleep. Wilt thou destroy him then?

STEPHANO. Ay, on mine honour.

ARIEL. This will I tell my master.

CALIBAN. Thou mak’st me merry. I am full of pleasure. Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch You taught me but while-ere?

STEPHANO. At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.

[_Sings._]

_Flout ’em and cout ’em, and scout ’em and flout ’em: Thought is free._

CALIBAN. That’s not the tune.

[_Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe._]

STEPHANO. What is this same?

TRINCULO. This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture of Nobody.

STEPHANO. If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness: if thou beest a devil, take ’t as thou list.

TRINCULO. O, forgive me my sins!

STEPHANO. He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy upon us!

CALIBAN. Art thou afeard?

STEPHANO. No, monster, not I.

CALIBAN. Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had wak’d after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me; that, when I wak’d, I cried to dream again.

STEPHANO. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing.

CALIBAN. When Prospero is destroyed.

STEPHANO. That shall be by and by: I remember the story.

TRINCULO. The sound is going away. Let’s follow it, and after do our work.

STEPHANO. Lead, monster: we’ll follow. I would I could see this taborer! he lays it on. Wilt come?

TRINCULO. I’ll follow, Stephano.

[_Exeunt._]

## SCENE III. Another part of the island.

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, &c.

GONZALO. By ’r lakin, I can go no further, sir; My old bones ache: here’s a maze trod, indeed, Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience, I needs must rest me.

ALONSO. Old lord, I cannot blame thee, Who am myself attach’d with weariness To th’ dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest. Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it No longer for my flatterer: he is drown’d Whom thus we stray to find; and the sea mocks Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.

ANTONIO. [_Aside to Sebastian._] I am right glad that he’s so out of hope. Do not, for one repulse, forgo the purpose That you resolv’d to effect.

SEBASTIAN. [_Aside to Antonio._] The next advantage Will we take throughly.

ANTONIO. [_Aside to Sebastian._] Let it be tonight; For, now they are oppress’d with travel, they Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance As when they are fresh.

SEBASTIAN. [_Aside to Antonio._] I say, tonight: no more.

Solemn and strange music: and Prospero above, invisible. Enter several strange Shapes, bringing in a banquet: they dance about it with gentle

## actions of salutation; and inviting the King &c., to eat, they depart.

ALONSO. What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!

GONZALO. Marvellous sweet music!

ALONSO. Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?

SEBASTIAN. A living drollery. Now I will believe That there are unicorns; that in Arabia There is one tree, the phoenix’ throne; one phoenix At this hour reigning there.

ANTONIO. I’ll believe both; And what does else want credit, come to me, And I’ll be sworn ’tis true: travellers ne’er did lie, Though fools at home condemn them.

GONZALO. If in Naples I should report this now, would they believe me? If I should say, I saw such islanders,— For, certes, these are people of the island,— Who, though, they are of monstrous shape, yet, note, Their manners are more gentle, kind, than of Our human generation you shall find Many, nay, almost any.

PROSPERO. [_Aside._] Honest lord, Thou hast said well; for some of you there present Are worse than devils.

ALONSO. I cannot too much muse Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing— Although they want the use of tongue—a kind Of excellent dumb discourse.

PROSPERO. [_Aside._] Praise in departing.

FRANCISCO. They vanish’d strangely.

SEBASTIAN. No matter, since They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.— Will’t please you taste of what is here?

ALONSO. Not I.