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towers, the gorgeous palaces,

       The solemn temples, the great globe itself,

       Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve

       And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,

       Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff

       As dreams are made on, and our little life

       Is rounded with a sleep.—Sir, I am vex’d:

       Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled.

       Be not disturb’d with my infirmity.

       If you be pleas’d, retire into my cell

       And there repose: a turn or two I’ll walk,

       To still my beating mind.

       FERDINAND, MIRANDA.

       We wish your peace.

       [Exeunt.]

       PROSPERO.

       Come, with a thought.—[To them.] I thank thee:

       Ariel, come!

       [Enter ARIEL.]

       ARIEL.

       Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?

       PROSPERO.

       Spirit,

       We must prepare to meet with Caliban.

       ARIEL.

       Ay, my commander; when I presented Ceres,

       I thought to have told thee of it: but I fear’d

       Lest I might anger thee.

       PROSPERO.

       Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?

       ARIEL.

       I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;

       So full of valour that they smote the air

       For breathing in their faces; beat the ground

       For kissing of their feet; yet always bending

       Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor;

       At which, like unback’d colts, they prick’d their ears,

       Advanc’d their eyelids, lifted up their noses

       As they smelt music: so I charm’d their ears,

       That calf-like they my lowing follow’d through

       Tooth’d briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns,

       Which enter’d their frail shins: at last I left them

       I’ the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,

       There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake

       O’erstunk their feet.

       PROSPERO.

       This was well done, my bird.

       Thy shape invisible retain thou still:

       The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither

       For stale to catch these thieves.

       ARIEL.

       I go, I go.

       [Exit]

       PROSPERO.

       A devil, a born devil, on whose nature

       Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,

       Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;

       And as with age his body uglier grows,

       So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,

       Even to roaring.

       [Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c.]

       Come, hang them on this line.

       [PROSPERO and ARIEL remain invisible. Enter

       CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet]

       CALIBAN.

       Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not

       Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell.

       STEPHANO.

       Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless

       fairy, has done little better than played the

       Jack with us.

       TRINCULO. Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at which my nose is in great indignation.

       STEPHANO. So is mine.—Do you hear, monster? If I should take a displeasure against you, look you,—

       TRINCULO.

       Thou wert but a lost monster.

       CALIBAN.

       Good my lord, give me thy favour still:

       Be patient, for the prize I’ll bring thee to

       Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly;

       All’s hush’d as midnight yet.

       TRINCULO.

       Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool!—

       STEPHANO. There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, monster, but an infinite loss.

       TRINCULO. That’s more to me than my wetting: yet this is your harmless fairy, monster.

       STEPHANO. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er ears for my labour.

       CALIBAN.

       Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here,

       This is the mouth o’ the cell: no noise, and enter.

       Do that good mischief which may make this island

       Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,

       For aye thy foot-licker.

       STEPHANO. Give me thy hand: I do begin to have bloody thoughts.

       TRINCULO.

       O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano!

       Look what a wardrobe here is for thee!

       CALIBAN.

       Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.

       TRINCULO. O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery.—O King Stephano!

       STEPHANO. Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I’ll have that gown.

       TRINCULO.

       Thy Grace shall have it.

       CALIBAN.

       The dropsy drown this fool! What do you mean

       To dote thus on such luggage? Let’s along,

       And do the murder first. If he awake,

       From toe to crown he’ll fill our skins with pinches;

       Make us strange stuff.

       STEPHANO. Be you quiet, monster.—Mistress line, is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair, and prove a bald jerkin.

       TRINCULO. Do, do: we steal by line and level, an’t like your Grace.

       STEPHANO. I thank thee for that jest: here’s a garment for’t: wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this country: ‘Steal by line and level,’ is an excellent pass of pate: there’s another garmet for’t.

       TRINCULO. Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and away with the rest.

       CALIBAN.

       I will have none on’t. We shall lose our time,

       And all be turn’d to barnacles, or to apes

       With foreheads villainous low.

       STEPHANO. Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this away where my hogshead of wine is, or I’ll turn you out of my kingdom. Go to; carry this.

       TRINCULO.

      

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