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Ant. He could not miss it.

[temperance. Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.

Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered. Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.

Ant. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a fen,

Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life.
Ant. True: save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.

Seb. With an eye of green in't.

Ant. He misses not much.

Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.

Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is indeed almost beyond credit)

Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are.

Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and glosses; being rather new dyed, than stained with salt water.

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, he lies?

Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. 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.

Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gon. Not since widow Dido's t'me.

Ant. Widow? a pox o' that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido!

Seb. What if he had said, widower Eneas too? good lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that she was of Carthage, not of Tanis.

Gon. This Tunis, Sir, was Carthage.

Adr. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp.

Seb. He hath raised the wall, and houses too.

Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?

Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.

Gon. Ay?

Ant. Why, in good time.

Gon. 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.

Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.

Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

Ant. 0, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.

Gon. Is not, Sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day

I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Ant. That sort was well fished for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Alon. 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 removed,

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!

Fran. 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

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Seb. Foul weather?

Ant. Very foul.

Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,—
Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.

Seb. Or docks, or mallows.

Gon. And were the king of it, what would I do?
Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
Gon. 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; no use of service,
Of riches, or of poverty; no contracts,

Successions; 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:-

Seb. And yet he would be king on't.

[beginning.

Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the Gon. 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 its own kind, all foison, all abundance,

To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?

Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, Sir, To excel the golden age.

Seb. 'Save his majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo!

Gon. And, do you mark me, Sir?

[me.

Alon. Prythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to Gon. 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.

Ant. "Twas you we laughed at.

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. Ant. What a blow was there given! Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.

Gon. 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. Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

[All sleep but ALON., SEB., and ANT.. Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclined to do so.

Seb. Please you, Sir,

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:

It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,

It is a comforter.

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Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not Myself disposed to sleep.

What might,

Ant. Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke.
Worthy Sebastian?-O, what might?-No more:-
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,

What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee: and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.

Seb. What, art thou waking?

Ant. Do you not hear me speak?

Seb. 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.

Ant. Noble Sebastian,

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Seb. 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.

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Ant. 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 seized 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. 0, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this

For your advancement! Do you understand me? Seb. Methinks, I do.

Ant. And how does your content

Tender your own good fortune?
Seb. I remember,

You did supplant your brother Prospero.
Ant. 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.
Seb. But, for your conscience-

Ant. Ay, Sir; where lies that? if it were 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; 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.

Seb. Thy case, dear friend,

Shall be my precedent; as thou gott'st Milan,
Draw thy sword: one stroke

I'll come by Naples.

Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payʼst;

And I the king shall love thee.

Ant. Draw together:

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Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible. Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger That these, his friends, are in; and sends me forth (For else his project dies) to keep them living. [Sings in GONZALO's ear.

"While you here do snoring lie,
Open-eyed conspiracy

His time doth take:

If of life you keep a care,

Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake! awake!"

Ant. Then let us both be sudden.
Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king!

[They wake. Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you Wherefore this ghastly looking? [drawn?

Gon. What's the matter?

Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions; did it not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly.

Alon. I heard nothing.

Ant. 0, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear; To make an earthquake! sure it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions.

Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo?

Gon. Upon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me: I shaked you, Sir, and cried; as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn:-there was a noise, That's verity. Best stand upon our guard; Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make further For my poor son.

Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island. Alon. Lead away.

done:

So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.

[search

Ari. Prospero, my lord, shall know what I have

[Aside. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Another part of the Island.
Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood.
A noise of thunder heard.

Cal. 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 them; but
For every trifle are they set upon me:

Sometime like apes, that moe and chatter at me
And after, bite me; then like hedgehogs, which

Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount
Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I
All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues,
Do hiss me into madness:-Lo! now! lo!

Enter TRINCULO.

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.

Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' the wind: yond' same black cloud, yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard 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 a 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. Ste. "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,

Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
But none of us cared for Kate:

For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go, hang.'

She loved 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.

Cal. Do not torment me: 0! Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? 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, whilst Stephano breathes at nostrils.

Cal. The spirit torments me: 0!

Ste. 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.

Cal. Do not torment me, pr'ythee; I'll bring my wood home faster.

Ste. 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.

Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt Anon, I know it by thy trembling:

Now Prosper works upon thee.

Ste. 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: you cannot tell who's your friend; open your chaps again.

Trin. I should know that voice: it should be-but he is drown'd; and these are devils: O! defend me!Ste. 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.

Trin. Stephano,

Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy! mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no long spoon.

Trin. Stephano!-if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo;-be not afeard,tliy good friend Trinculo.

Ste. 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?

I

Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke: -But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now, thou art not drowned. Is the storm over-blown? hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine, for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scaped!

Ste. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.

Cal. These be fine things, an if they be not sprites. That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor: I will kneel to him.

Ste. 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. Cal. I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy True subject; for the liquor is not earthly.

Ste. Here; swear then how thou escap'dst.

Trin. Swam ashore, man, like a duck; I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn.

Ste. Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose.

Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this?

Ste. The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a rock by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, mooncalf? how does thine ague?

Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven?

Ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man in the moon, when time was.

Cal. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee; My mistress shewed me thee, thy dog, and bush.

Ste. Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish it anon with new contents; swear.

Trin. 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.

Cal. I'll shew thee every fertile inch o' the island; And kiss thy foot: I pr'ythee, be my god.

Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster; when his god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle. Cal. I'll kiss thy foot: I'll swear myself thy subject. Ste. Come on then; down, and swear.

Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppyheaded monster! A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him,-

Ste. Come, kiss.

Trin. but that the poor monster's in drink: An abominable monster!

Cal. I'll shew thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough." [berries; A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!

I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,

Thou wondrous man.

Trin. A most ridiculous monster; to make a wonder of a poor drunkard.

Cal. I pr'ythee, 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 filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee Young sea-mells from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? Ste. I pr'ythee 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. Cal. "Farewell master: farewell, farewell." [Sings drunkenly. Trin. A howling monster; a drunken monster.

Cal. "No more dams I'll make for fish;

Nor fetch in firing

At requiring,

Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish;

'Ban 'Ban, Ca-Caliban,

Has a new master-Get a new man."

Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey

day, freedom!

Ste. O brave monster! lead the way.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-Before PROSPERO's Cell. Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log.

Fer. There be some sports are painful; but 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 'tis 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 composed 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 ne'er like éxecutor. I forget:

But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours;
Most busy-less, when I do it.

Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance.
Mira. Alas, now! pray you,

Work not so hard: I would the lightning had
Burnt up these 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.

Fer. O most dear mistress,

The sun will set, before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.

Mira. If you'll sit down,

I'll bear your logs the while. Pray, give me that; I'll carry it to the pile.

Fer. No, precious creature:

I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.

Mira. 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 against.

Pro. Poor worm! thou art infected;

This visitation shews it.

Mira. You look wearily.

Fer. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with re, When you are by at night. I do beseech you, (Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,) What is your name?

Mira. Miranda:-O my father,

I have broke your hest to say so!
Fer. Admired Miranda!

Indeed, the top of admiration; worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have eyed with best regard; and many a t'me
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent car: for several virtues
Have I liked several women; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed,
And put it to the foil: but you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best.

Mira. 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 skill-less 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
Therein forget.

Fer. 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 I would 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.

Mira. Do you love me?

Fer. 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.

Mira. I am a fool,

To weep at what I am glad of.

Pro. Fair encounter

Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace
On that which breeds between them!

Fer. Wherefore weep you?

Mira. 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 shews. 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.

Fer. My mistress, dearest,

And I thus humble ever.

Mira. My husband, then?

Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing

As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand.

Mira. And mine, with my heart in't: and now fareTill half an hour hence.

[well, [Exeunt FER. and MIR. Pro. So glad of this as they, I cannot be, Who are surprised with all: but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I'll to my book; For yet, ere supper-time. must I perform Much business appertaining.

Fer. A thousand! thousand!

[Exit.

SCENE II.-Another part of the Island. Enter STEPHANO and TRINCULO; CALIBAN following

with a bottle.

Ste. 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.

Trin. Servant-monster? the folly of this island! They say, there's but five upon this isle: we are three of them if the other two be brained like us, the state totters.

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

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

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

Trin. Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard. Ste. We'll not run, monsieur monster.

Trin. Nor go neither: but you'll lie, like dogs; and yet say nothing neither.

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

Cal. How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe: I'll not serve him, he is not valiant.

Trin. 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 80 much sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish, and half a monster?

Cal. Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord? Trin. Lord, quoth he!-that a monster should be such a natural!

Cal. Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I pr'ythee. Sie. 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.

Cal. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased To hearken once again the suit I made thee?

Ste. Marry will I: kneel, and repeat it; I will stand, and so shall Trinculo.

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Cal. 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.

Ste. That's most certain.

Cal. Thou shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee. Ste. How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou bring me to the party?

Cal. Yea, yea, my lord; I'll yield him thee asleep, Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head. Ari. Thou liest, thou canst not.

Cal. 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 shew him Where the quick freshes are.

Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger: interrupt the monster one word further, and, by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out of doors, and make a stockfish of thee.

Trin. Why, what did I? I did nothing; I'll go

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Cal. Beat him enough: after a little time, I'll beat him too.

Ste. Stand further.-Come, proceed.

Cal. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him

I' the afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him,
Having first seized 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 non-pareil: I ne'er saw woman,
But only Sycorax my dam, and she;
But she as far surpasseth Sycorax,

As greatest does least.

Ste. Is it so brave a lass?

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[ARIEL plays the tune on a tabor and pipe. Ste. What is this same?

Trin. This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture of No-body.

Ste. If thou beest a man, shew thyself in thy likeness: if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list.

Trin. O, forgive me my sins!

Ste. He that dies, pays all debts: I defy thee:

Mercy upon us!

Cal. Art thou afeard?

Ste. No, monster, not I.

Cal. 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,

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