Sidor som bilder
[ocr errors]

again. My best
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 fhrowd 'till the
Dregs of the Storm be past.

Enter Stephano finging.

Ste. 1 fhall no more to Sea, to Sea, here fhall I die a-fhore.
This is a very fcurvy Tune to fing at a Man's
Funeral: Well, here's my Comfort.


Sings. The Mafter, the Swabber, the Boaifwain 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 scratch 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
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 No-

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 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 re-
cover him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much


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 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 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 fpeak 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, these 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-ftroke; 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 Stomack is not conftant.

Cal. Thefe be fine things, and if they be not Sprights: That's a brave God, and bears Celestial 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 ́¿ upon a Butt 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 fwear, upon that Bottle, to be thy true Subje&; for the Liquor is not earthly:

Ste. Here: Swear then how thou escap'dst.

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 shew'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 shallow 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 self thy Subject.'
Ste. Come on then: Down, and fwear.

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

Ste. Come, kifs.

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

An abominable Monster.

[ocr errors]


Cal. I'll fhew 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 ferve;

I'll bear him no more Sticks, but follow thee, thou won drous Man.

S Tri. A most ridiculous Monster, to make a Wonder of a poor Drunkard.

Cal. I prethee let me bring thee where Crabs grow, and I i with my long Nails will dig thee Pig-nuts; fhow thee a Jay's Neft, and inftruct thee how to fnare the nimble Marmazet; I'll bring thee to cluftring Filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee young Scamels from the Rock: Wilt thou go

with me?

Ste. I prethee now lead the way without any more talkding. Trinculo, the King and all our Company elfe being drown'd, we will inherit here; here, bear my Bottle; Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again.

Caliban fings drunkenly. Farewel, Mafter; farewel, farewel.

[ocr errors]

Tri. A howling Monster; a drunken Monster.
Cal. No more Dams I'll make for Fish,
Nor fetch in firing, at requiring,

Nor fcrape Trenchering, nor wash Dish.
Ban', Ban', Cacalyban

Has a new Mafter, get a new Man.


Freedom, hey-day, hey-day Freedom, Freedom, hey-day Freedom.


Ste. O brave Monster, lead the way.


Enter Ferdinand, bearing a Log.


THERE be fome Sports are painful, and their Labour
Delight in them fets 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 ferve, quickens what's dead,
And makes my Labours Pleasures: O fhe is



Ten times more gentle, than her Father's crabbed;
And he's compos'd of Harfhnefs. I must remove
Some thousands of thefe Logs, and pile them up,
Upon a fore Injun&tion; my fweet Mistress

Weeps when the fees me work, and says, fuch Baseness
Had never like Executor; I forget;

But these sweet Thoughts do even refresh my Labours, Moft bufie least, when I do it.

Enter Miranda, and Prospero at a Distance unseen. Mira. Alas, now pray you,

Work not fo hard; I would the Lightning had
Burnt up thofe Logs that thou art enjoyn'd to pile :
Pray set it down, and reft you; when this burns
Twill weep for having weary'd you; my Father
Is hard at Study, pray now reft your felf,
He's fafe for these three Hours.

Fer. O most dear Mistress,

The Sun will fet before I fhall discharge
What I muft ftrive to do.

Mira. If you'll fit 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 fuch Dishonor undergo,
While I fit lazy by.

Mira. It would become me,

'As well as it does you; and I should do it
With much more Eafe; for my good-will is to it,

And yours it is against.

Pro. Poor Worm, thou art infected,

This Vifitation fhews it.

Mira. You look wearily.

Fer. No, noble Miftrefs, 'tis fresh Morning with me, When you are by at Night. I do befeech you; Chiefly that I might fet it in my Prayers,

What is your Name?

Mira. Miranda. O my Father,

I have broke your Heft to fay fo.

Fer. Admir'd Miranda,

Indeed the Top of Admiration, worth


« FöregåendeFortsätt »