THE TEMPEST. УильÑм ШекÑпир
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Yea, yea, my lord: I’ll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou may’st knock a nail into his head.
ARIEL.
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 nought 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 stock-fish of thee.
TRINCULO.
Why, what did I? I did nothing. I’ll go farther off.
STEPHANO.
Didst thou not say he lied?
ARIEL.
Thou liest.
STEPHANO. Do I so? Take thou that. [Strikes 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.—Prithee stand further off.
CALIBAN. Beat him enough: after a little time, I’ll beat him too.
STEPHANO.
Stand farther.—Come, proceed.
CALIBAN.
Why, as I told thee, ‘tis a custom with him
I’ th’ afternoon to sleep: there thou may’st brain him,
Having first seiz’d his books; or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his wezand 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 livest, 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 honour.
ARIEL.
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 while-ere?
STEPHANO. At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.
[Sings]
Flout ‘em and scout ‘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. If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness: if thou beest 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 wak’d 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 wak’d,
I cried to dream again.
STEPHANO. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing.
CALIBAN.
When Prospero is destroyed.
STEPHANO.
That shall be by and by: I remember the story.
TRINCULO. The sound is going away: let’s follow it, and after do our work.
STEPHANO. Lead, monster: we’ll follow.—I would I could see this taborer! he lays it on. Wilt come?
TRINCULO.
I’ll follow, Stephano.
[Exeunt]
SCENE III. Another part of the island
[Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and OTHERS.]
GONZALO.
By’r lakin, I can go no further, sir;
My old bones ache: here’s a maze trod, indeed,
Through forthrights and meanders! By your patience,
I needs must rest me.
ALONSO.
Old lord, I cannot blame thee,
Who am myself attach’d with weariness
To th’ dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest.
Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it
No longer for my flatterer: he is drown’d
Whom thus we stray to find; and the sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.
ANTONIO.
[Aside to SEBASTIAN] I am