CALIBAN: (kneeling) As I told thee before, I am subject
to a tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath
cheated me of the island.
ARIEL: (in Trinculo’s voice) Thou liest.
CALIBAN: (to Trinculo) Thou liest, thou jesting monkey,
thou. (He stands.) I would my valiant master would
destroy thee. I do not lie.
STEPHANO: Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in ’s
tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your
teeth.
TRINCULO: Why, I said nothing.
STEPHANO: Mum then, and no more. (Trinculo stands)
Proceed.
CALIBAN:
I say by sorcery he got this isle;
From me he got it. If thy Greatness will,
Revenge it on him, for I know thou dar’st,
But this thing dare not.
STEPHANO: That’s most certain.
CALIBAN:
Thou shalt be lord of it, and I’ll serve thee.
STEPHANO: How now shall this be compassed? Canst
thou bring me to the party?
CALIBAN:
Yea, yea, my lord. I’ll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.
ARIEL: (in Trinculo’s voice) Thou liest. Thou canst not.
CALIBAN:
What a pied ninny’s this!—Thou scurvy patch!—
I do beseech thy Greatness, give him blows
And take his bottle from him. When that’s gone,
He shall drink naught but brine, for I’ll not show him
Where the quick freshes are.
STEPHANO: Trinculo, run into no further danger. Interrupt
the monster one word further, and by this
hand, I’ll turn my mercy out o’ doors and make a
stockfish of thee.
TRINCULO: Why, what did I? I did nothing. I’ll go
farther off.
STEPHANO: Didst thou not say he lied?
ARIEL: (in Trinculo’s voice) Thou liest.
STEPHANO: Do I so? Take thou that. (He beats Trinculo.)
As you like this, give me the lie another time.
TRINCULO: I did not give the lie! Out o’ your wits and
hearing too? A pox o’ your bottle! This can sack and
drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the
devil take your fingers!
CALIBAN: Ha, ha, ha!
STEPHANO: Now forward with your tale. (To Trinculo.)
Prithee, stand further off.
CALIBAN:
Beat him enough. After a little time
I’ll beat him too.
STEPHANO: Stand farther. (Trinculo moves farther
away.) Come, proceed.
CALIBAN:
Why, as I told thee, ’tis a custom with him
I’ th’ afternoon to sleep. There thou mayst brain him,
Having first seized his books, or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his weasand with thy knife. Remember
First to possess his books, for without them
He’s but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command. They all do hate him
As rootedly as I. Burn but his books.
He has brave utensils—for so he calls them—
Which, when he has a house, he’ll deck withal.
And that most deeply to consider is
The beauty of his daughter. He himself
Calls her a nonpareil. I never saw a woman
But only Sycorax my dam and she;
But she as far surpasseth Sycorax
As great’st does least.
STEPHANO: Is it so brave a lass?
CALIBAN:
Ay, lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant,
And bring thee forth brave brood.
STEPHANO: Monster, I will kill this man. His daughter
and I will be king and queen—save our Graces!—
and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys.—Dost
thou like the plot, Trinculo?
TRINCULO: Excellent.
STEPHANO: Give me thy hand. I am sorry I beat thee.
But while thou liv’st, keep a good tongue in thy
head.
CALIBAN:
Within this half hour will he be asleep.
Wilt thou destroy him then?
STEPHANO: Ay, on mine honor.
ARIEL: (aside) This will I tell my master.
CALIBAN:
Thou mak’st me merry. I am full of pleasure.
Let us be jocund. Will you troll the catch
You taught me but whilere?
STEPHANO: At thy request, monster, I will do reason,
any reason.—Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.
(Sings.)
Flout ’em and cout ’em
And scout ’em and flout ’em!
Thought is free.
CALIBAN: That’s not the tune.
Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe.
STEPHANO: What is this same?
TRINCULO: This is the tune of our catch played by the
picture of Nobody.
STEPHANO: (to the invisible musician) If thou be’st a
man, show thyself in thy likeness. If thou be’st a
devil, take ’t as thou list.
TRINCULO: O, forgive me my sins!
STEPHANO: He that dies pays all debts.—I defy thee!—
Mercy upon us!
CALIBAN: Art thou afeard?
STEPHANO: No, monster, not I.
CALIBAN
Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked
I cried to dream again.