Puslapio vaizdai

And I the King fhall love thee.
Ant. Draw together:

And when I rear my Hand, do you the like
To fall it on Gonzalo.

Seb. O, but one Word.

Enter Ariel with Mufick and Song. Ari. My Mafter through his Art forefees the Danger That you, his Friend, are in; and fends me forth (For else his Project dies) to keep them living.

[Sings in Gonzalo's Ear.

While you here do Snoaring lye,
Open-ey'd Confpiracy
His time doth take:

If of Life you keep a Care,
Shake off Slumber, and beware.
Awake, awake.

Ant. Then let us both be fudden.

Gon. Now, good Angels preferve the King. [They wake. Alon. Why how now ho? awake? why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghaftly Looking?

Gon. What's the Matter?

Seb. Whilft we ftood here fecuring your Repose,
Even now we heard a hollow Burft of bellowing
Like Bulls, or rather Lions; did't not wake you?
It ftrook mine Ear moft terribly.

Alon. I heard nothing.

Ant. 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.

Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo?

Gon. Upon mine Honour, Sir,. I heard a Humming,
And that a ftrange one too, which did awake me!
I fhak'd you, Sir, and cry'd, as mine Eyes open'd,
I faw their Weapons drawn: There was a Noife,
That's verily. 'Tis beft we ftand upon our Guard;
Or that we quit this Place; let's draw our Weapons.

Alon. Lead off this Ground, and let's make further Search For my poor Son.

Gon. Heav'ns keep him from these Beafts:

For he is fure i'th' Ifland.

Alon. Lead away.

Ari. Profpero, my Lord, fhall know what I have done. So, King, go fafely on to feek thy Son.




Enter Caliban with a Burden of Wood; a Noife of Thunder heard. Cal. All the Infections that the Sun fucks up From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on Profper fall, and make him By Inch-meal a Difeafe: His Spirits hear me, And yet I needs muft curfe. But they'll not pinch, Fright me with Urchin fhews, pitch me i' th' Mire, Nor lead me, like a Fire-brand, in the Dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but For every trifle are they fet upon me; Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me, And after bite me; then like Hedg-hogs, which Lye tumbling in my Bare-foot-way, and mount Their pricks at my Foot-fall; fometime am I All wound with Adders, who with cloven Tongues Do hifs me into Madness. Lo! now! lo! [Enter Trinculo. Here comes a Spirit of his, and to torment me, For bringing Wood in flowly: I'll fall flat, Perchance he will not mind me.

Tri. Here's neither Bush nor Shrub to bear off any Weather at all, and another Storm brewing; I hear it fing i' th' Wind: Yond fame black Cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul Bumbard that would fhed his Liquor. If it should Thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my Head: Yond fame Cloud cannot chufe but fall by Pailfuls. What have we here, a Man or a Fish? dead or alive? A Fish; he fmells like a Fish: A very ancient and fish-like Smell. A kind of, not of the newest Poor John: A ftrange Fish; were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this Fish painted, not an Holy-day-fool there but would give a piece of Silver; there would this Monster make a Man; any ftrange Beast there makes a Man: When they will not give a Doit to relieve a lame Beggar, they will lay out ten to fee a dead Indian. Leg'd like a Man! and his Fins like Arms! warm o' my troth; I do now let loofe my Opinion, hold it no longer; this is no Fish, but an Islander, that hath lately fuffer'd by a Thunderbolt: Alas! the Storm is come

again. My best way is to creep under his Gaberdine : There is no other Shelter hereabout; Mifery acquaints a Man with ftrange Bedfellows : I will here throwd 'till the Dregs of the Storm be past.

Enter Stephano finging.

Ste. I fhall no more to Sea, to Sea, here shall I die a-fore. This is a very fcurvy Tune to fing at a Man's Funeral: Well, here's my Comfort.

Sings. The Mafter, the Swabber, the Boatswain and I,
The Gunner, and his Mate,

Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marrian and Margery,
But none of us car'd for Kate;

For fhe 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 Taylor might fcratch her where-e'er fhe did itch.
Then to Sea, Boys, and let her go hang.
That is a fcurvy Tune too:
But here's my Comfort.

Cal. Do not Torment me: Oh!
Ste. What's the Matter?



Have we Devils here?

Do you put Tricks upon's with Salvages, and Men of Inde? ha? I have not fcap'd drowning to be afraid now of your four Legs; for it hath been faid, as proper a Man as ever went on four Legs cannot make him give Ground; and it fhall be faid fo again, while Stephano breathes at NoArils.

Cal. The Spirit torments me: Oh!

Ste. This is fome Monster of the Ifle, with four Legs; who has got, as I take it, an Ague: Where the Devil fhould he learn our Language? I will give him fome 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 Prefent for any Emperor that ever trod on Neats-Leather.

Cal. Do not Torment me, prethee: I'll bring my Wood home fafter.

Ste. He's in his Fit now; and does not talk after the Wifeft: He fhall 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


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for him he fhall pay for him that hath him, and that foundly.

Cal. Thou doft me yet but little Hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy Trembling: Now Profper works upon


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 fhaking, I can tell you, and that foundly You cannot tell who's your Friend; open your Chaps again.

Tri. I fhould 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 moft delicate Monfter: His forward Voice now is to speak 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 fome in thy other Mouth.

Tri. 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.

Tri. Stephano: If thou beeft Stephano, touch me, and fpeak to me; for I am Trinculo; be not afraid, thy good Friend Trinculo.

Ste. If thou beeft Trinculo, come forth, I'll pull thee by the leffer Legs: If any be Trinculo's Legs, thefe are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed: How cam'ft thou to be the Siege of this Moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculo's!

Tri. I took him to be kill'd with a Thunder-Stroke; but art thou not drown'd, Stephano? I hope now thou art not drown'd: Is the Storm over-blown? I hid me under the dead Moon-calf's Gaberdine, for fear of the Storm: And art thou living Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitanes fcap'd? Ste. Prethee do not turn me about, my Stomach is not conftant,

Cal. Thefe be fine things, and if they be not Sprights: That's a brave God, and bears Celeftial Liquor: I will kneel to him.

Ste. How did't thou fcape?


How cam'ft thou hither?

Swear by this Bottle how thou cam'ft hither: I escap'd upon a But of Sack, which the Sailors heav'd o'er-board, by this Bottle! which I made of the Bark of a Tree, with mine own Hands, fince I was caft a-fhore.

Cal. I'll wear, upon that Bottle, to be thy true Subje&; for the Liquor is not earthly.

Ste. Here: Swear then how thou escap'dft,

Tri. Swom a-fhore, Man, like a Duck; I can fwim like a Duck, I'll be fworn.

Ste. Here, kifs the Book.

Though thou canft fwim like a Duck, thou art made like a Goose.

Tri. O Stephano, haft any more of this?

Ste. The whole Butt, Man; my Cellar is in a Rock by th' Sea-fide, where my Wine is hid:

How now, Moon-calf, how does thine Ague?

Cal. Haft thou not dropt from Heav'n?

Ste. Out o' th' Moon, I do affure thee. I was the Man in th' Moon when time was.

Cal. I have feen thee in her; and I do adore thee: My Mistress fhew'd me thee, and thy Dog, and thy Bush.

Ste. Come fwear to that; kifs the Book: I will furnish it anon with the new Contents: Swear.

Tri. By this good Light, this is a very fhallow Monster: I afraid of him? a very fhallow Monster: The Man i' th' Moon?

A most poor credulous Monster:

Well drawn, Monfter, in good footh.

Cal. I'll fhew thee every fertile Inch o' th' Ifle; and I will kifs thy Foot: I prethee be my God.

Tri. By this Light, a moft perfidious and drunken Monfter; when's God's afleep he'll rob his Bottle.

Cal. I'll kifs thy Foot. I'll fwear my felf thy Subje&. Ste. Come on then; Down, and fwear.

Tri. I fhall laugh my felf to Death at this Puppy-headed Monster: A moft fcurvy Monfter: I could find in my Heart to beat him.

Ste. Come, kifs.

Tri. But that the poor Monster's in drink: An abominable Monster.


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