Scene
SCENE changes to another part of the Island.
Enter Caliban, with a burden of wood; a noise of thunder heard.
* noteCal.
All the infections that the sun sucks up,
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prospero fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll not pinch,
Fright me with urchin shews, 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 set upon me.
Sometimes like apes, that moe and chatter at me,
And after bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lye 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. Lo! now! lo!
Enter Trinculo.
Here comes a spi'rit 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'th' wind: yon same black cloud, yon 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: yon 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 an holiday-fool
there but would give a piece of silver. There
would this monster make a man: any strange beast there
-- 30 --
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.
Legged 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 thunder-bolt. 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 shrowd, 'till the
dregs of the storm be past* note.
Enter Stephano, singing.
Step.
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; then sings.
The master, 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 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 taylor might scratch her, where-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.
Cal.
Do not torment me, oh!
Step.
What's the matter? have we devils here? do
you put tricks upon's with savages, and men of Inde?
ha? I have not scap'd drowning, to be afraid now of
your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man,
as ever went upon four legs, cannot make him give
ground; and it shall be said so again, while Stephano
breathes at his nostrils.
-- 31 --
Cal.
The spirit torments me: oh!
Step.
This is some monster of the isle, with four legs,
who has 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 neats-leather.
Cal.
Do not torment me, pr'ythee; I'll bring my
wood home faster.
Step.
He's in his fit now; and does not talk after the
wisest: he shall taste of my bottle. If he 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.
Step.
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 drowned; and these are devils; O! defend me—
Step.
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 spatter 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—
Step.
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 afraid, thy good
friend Trinculo.
Step.
If thou beest Trinculo, come forth, I'll pull thee
by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these are
-- 32 --
they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed: how cam'st
thou to the siege of this moon-calf? can he vent
Trinculo's!
Trin.
I took him to be killed with a thander-stroke:
and art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans
scap'd!
Step.
Pr'ythee, do not turn me about, my stomach is
not constant.
Cal.
These be fine things, an if they be not sprights:
that's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor: I will
kneel to him.
Step.
How didst thou scape? how cam'st thou hither?
swear, by this bottle, how thou cam'st hither: I escap'd
upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved over-board,
by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree,
with mine own hands, since I was cast a-shore.
Cal.
I'll swear upon that bottle, to be thy true subject;
for the liquor is not earthly.
Step.
Here: swear then, how escap'st thou?
Trin.
Swam a-shore, man, like a duck; I can swim
like a duck, I'll be sworn.
Step.
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?
Step.
The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a rock by
th' sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf,
how does thine ague?
Cal.
Hast thou not dropt from heav'n?
Step.
Out o'th' moon, I do assure thee. I was the man
in th' moon, when time was.
Cal.
I have seen thee in her; and I do adore thee:
my mistress shew'd me thee, and thy dog and thy bush.
Step.
Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will
furnish it anon with new contents: swear.
Cal.
I'll shew thee every fertile inch o'th' Isle, and I
will 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 shew thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries,
-- 33 --
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.
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;
Shew thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmazet: I'll bring thee
To clust'ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee
Young shamois from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?
Step.
I pr'ythee now, lead the way without any more
talking. Trinculo, the King and all our company else
being drown'd, we will inherit here. Hear, bear my
bottle; fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again.
Cal. [Sings drunkenly.]
Farewel, master; farewel, farewel.
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', Cacalyban,
Has a new master; get a new man.
Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-day, freedom!
Step.
O brave monster, lead the way.
[Exeunt.* note
-- 34 --
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
