STEPHANO.

Now, Ban! how do you stomach sailing? is't not rare to skim like a gull thus, 'twixt wind and water? how dost like it, eh?

CALIBAN.
I like it much! This is a brave, fine god!
And bears us daintily;—how swift he is!
He scuds the ocean fleet as fawn the earth!
O, that my dam were living to behold him!
Grim Setebos she would renounce with scorn;
Low, prostrate, fall with me; and thus adore! [kneeling.]

TRINCULO.
What's i' the wind, now, 'trow?

CALIBAN.
Thou unmatch'd wonder!—miracle of pow'r!
Hear thy vow'd vassal's pray'r, and grant his suit!
Give me but vengeance on my tyrant lord,
(Whom, tho' I feign'd repentance, I detest!)

And in these arms his daughter once to clip,
I'll ever be thy bond-slave worshipper! [Rising.

TRINCULO.

So! the apostate has got him a new idol, Stephano; you may return to your dog and bush again; he'll worship you no more.

CALIBAN.

What means this giddiness?—I cannot stand!

TRINCULO.

And note, if the moon-calf be not drunk too!

STEPHANO.

Out, you ninny!—'tis only the ship's motion makes him stagger so; as it did me erewhile.

TRINCULO.

By'r lady, and so it may;—but a sherris-sack was mix'd with the ship's motion when you caught the staggers.

CALIBAN.
Sure I'm become what they call drunk again!
But know not how;—for, save mere element,
Nought have I swallow'd since I left the island.

TRINCULO.
How he reels!

CALIBAN.
I pr'ythee shew where I may lie and sleep,
That Prosper see me not: else he will chide!

STEPHANO.

Why, surely, the shallow-brain'd ideot thinks himself drunk indeed!

TRINCULO.

A rare conceit!—we'll humour it;—and, while he is napping, if we can find the old necromancer in the mood, try to get off keeping watch here at night.

STEPHANO.

Agreed.—Come along, you drunken owl! and we'll lead you where you may roost in safety, 'till your are sober.

CALIBAN.

But am I drunk in sooth?—I pr'ythee, say!

TRINCULO.

Drunk, quotha? there's a question!—ay, reeling-ripe, as when the piping fairy led us by

the ears into the pool; then, indeed, it was with sack: now, only with the ship's motion:—but a small matter will turn a weak head!

CALIBAN.
Give me sack now! for I can but be drunk!
'Twill drown my fear, and make me full of mirth;
I may as well be jocund-drunk, as sad:—
Give me some sack, I pr'ythee, ere I sleep!

STEPHANO.

Here's a flaggon for you, fish!—the king in the cabin can't drink better.

CALIBAN.
'Tis passing good! a king 'twill make of me!
This shall my pillow be;—I'll drink and sleep;
Nor dread sour Prosper, while of this I've store.

SINGS.
I gather'd ripe clusters of grapes from the vine,
Then champ'd 'em, and swill'd 'em, rejoic'd so to dine;
Yet, like a dull ass, was raid, beaten, and jeer'd,
Of adder, ape, urchin, and goblin afear'd!
But, liquor celestial now, plenteous, I quaff.
At adder, ape, urchin, and goblin can laugh;
Ho, ho, ho; ho, ho, ho! I now should not fear,
Though Prosper and all his curst spirits were here. Exeunt.

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