The Tempest

our guard,
Or that we quit this place: let’s draw our weapons. Alonso

Lead off this ground; and let’s make further search
For my poor son.

Gonzalo

Heavens keep him from these beasts!
For he is, sure, i’ the island.

Alonso Lead away. Ariel

Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. Exeunt.

Scene II

Another part of the island.

	Enter Caliban with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard.
Caliban	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 ’em; but For every trifle are they set upon me; Sometime like apes that mow 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.
	Enter Trinculo.
	Lo, now, lo! 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.
Trinculo	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 bombard 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 lazy 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 thunderbolt. Thunder. Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabouts: 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.
Stephano	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.
	Sings. 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.
Caliban	Do not torment me: Oh!
Stephano	What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon’s with savages and men of Ind, 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 while Stephano breathes at nostrils.
Caliban	The spirit torments me; Oh!
Stephano	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.
Caliban	Do not torment me, prithee; I’ll bring my wood home faster.
Stephano	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.
Caliban	Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.
Stephano	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.
Trinculo	I should know that voice: it should be⁠—but he is drowned; and these are devils: O defend me!
Stephano	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.
Trinculo	Stephano!
Stephano	Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no long spoon.
Trinculo	Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me and speak to me; for I am Trinculo⁠—be not afeard⁠—thy good friend Trinculo.
Stephano	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 camest thou to be the siege of this