[Act 2, Scene 2]
Caliban, with a burthen of Wood, (a noyse of
All the infections that the Sunne suckes vp
From Bogs, Fens, flats, on
Prosper fall, and
By ynch‑meale a disease: his Spirits heare me,
And yet I needes must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with Vrchyn‑shewes, pitch me i'th mire,
Nor lead me like a fire‑brand, in the darke
Out of my way, vnlesse he bid'em; but
For euery trifle, are they set vpon me,
Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me,
And after bite me: then like Hedg‑hogs, which
Lye tumbling in my bare‑foote way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot‑fall: sometime am I
All wound with Adders, who with clouen tongues
Doe hisse me into madnesse: Lo, now Lo,
Here comes a Spirit of his, and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly: I'le fall flat,
Perchance he will not minde me.
Here's neither bush, nor shrub to beare off any
weather at all:
and another Storme brewing, I heare it
sing ith' winde: yond
same blacke cloud, yond huge
one, lookes like a foule bumbard
that would shed his
licquor: if it should thunder, as it did
before, I know
not where to hide my head: yond same cloud
choose but fall by paile‑fuls. What haue we here,
or a fish? dead or aliue? a fish, hee smels like a fish:
very ancient and fish‑like smell: a kinde of, not of
newest poore‑Iohn: a strange fish: were I in
now (as once I was) and had but this fish painted; not
holiday‑foole there but would giue a peece of siluer:
there, would this Monster, make a man: any strange
there, makes a man: when they will not giue a
doit to relieue a
lame Begger, they will lay out ten to see
Indian: Leg'd like a man; and his Finnes like
Armes: warme o'my troth: I doe now let loose my
pinion; hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an
der, that hath lately suffered by a Thunderbolt:
the storme is come againe: my best way is to creepe
der his Gaberdine: there is no other shelter here
Misery acquaints a man with strange
lowes: I will here shrowd till the dregges of the
Enter stephano singing.
I shall no more to sea, to sea, here shall I dye
This is a very scuruy tune to sing at a mans
here's my comfort.
The Master, the Swabber, the Boate‑swaine & I;
The Gunner, and his Mate
Lou'd Mall, Meg, and Marrian, and Margerie,
But none of vs car'd for Kate.
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a Sailor goe hang:
She lou'd not the sauour of Tar nor of Pitch,
Yet a Tailor might scratch her where ere she did itch.
Then to Sea Boyes, and let her goe hang.
This is a scuruy tune too:
But here's my comfort.
Doe not torment me: oh.
What's the matter?
Haue we diuels here?
Doe you put trickes vpon's with Saluages, and Men of
Inde? ha? I
haue not scap'd drowning, to be afeard
now of your foure
legges: for it hath bin said; as pro
per a man as euer
went on foure legs, cannot make him
giue ground: and it shall
be said so againe, while
breathes at' nostrils.
The Spirit torments me: oh.
This is some Monster of the Isle, with foure legs;
who hath got
(as I take it) an Ague: where the diuell
should he learne our
language? I will giue him some re
liefe if it be but for
that: if I can recouer him, and keepe
him tame, and get to
Naples with him, he's a Pre
for any Emperour that euer trod on
Doe not torment me 'prethee: I'le bring my
wood home faster.
He's in his fit now; and doe's not talke after the
shall taste of my Bottle: if hee haue neuer
drunke wine afore,
it will goe neere to remoue his Fit:
if I can recouer him, and
keepe him tame, I will not take
too much for him; hee shall pay
for him that hath him,
and that soundly.
Thou do'st me yet but little hurt; thou wilt a
know it by thy trembling: Now
Come on your wayes: open your mouth: here
is that which will
giue 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 againe.
I should know that voyce:
It should be,
But hee is dround; and these are diuels; O de
Foure legges and two voyces; a most delicate
forward voyce now is to speake well of
his friend; his backward
voice, is to vtter foule speeches,
and to detract: if all the
wine in my bottle will recouer
him, I will helpe his Ague:
Come: Amen, I will
poure some in thy other mouth.
Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy:
This is a diuell,
and no Monster: I will leaue him, I
haue no long Spoone.
Stephano: if thou beest
Stephano, touch me, and
speake to me: for I am
Trinculo; be not afeard, thy
If thou bee'st
Trinculo: come forth: I'le pull
thee by the lesser legges: if any be o'
these are they: Thou art very
Trinculo indeede: how
cam'st thou to be
the siege of this Moone‑calfe? Can
I tooke him to be kil'd with a thunder‑strok; but
thou not dround
Stephano: I hope now thou art
not dround: Is the Storme ouer‑blowne? I hid mee
vnder the dead Moone‑Calfes Gaberdine, for feare of
the Storme: And art thou liuing
'Prethee doe not turne me about, my stomacke
These be fine things, and if they be not sprights:
braue God, and beares Celestiall liquor: I will
How did'st thou scape?
How cam'st thou hither?
this Bottle how thou cam'
st hither: I escap'd
vpon a But
of Sacke, which the Saylors heaued o're‑
boord, by this
Bottle which I made of the barke of
a Tree, with mine owne
hands, since I was cast a'shore.
I'le sweare vpon that Bottle, to be thy true sub
for the liquor is not earthly.
Heere: sweare then how thou escap'dst
Swom ashore (man) like a Ducke: I can swim
like a Ducke I'le be
Here, kisse the Booke.
Though thou canst swim like a Ducke, thou
like a Goose.
Stephano, ha'st any more of this?
The whole But (man) my Cellar is in a rocke
sea‑side, where my Wine is hid:
Moone‑Calfe, how do's thine Ague?
Ha'st thou not dropt from heauen?
Out o'th Moone I doe assure thee. I was
the Man ith' Moone, when
I haue seene thee in her: and I doe adore thee:
shew'd me thee, and thy Dog, and thy Bush.
Come, sweare to that: kisse the Booke: I will
furnish it anon
with new Contents: Sweare.
By this good light, this is a very shallow Mon
afeard of him? a very weake Monster:
The Man ith' Moone?
A most poore creadulous Monster:
Well drawne Monster, in good sooth.
Ile shew thee euery fertill ynch 'oth Island: and
I will kisse
thy foote: I prethee be my god.
By this light, a most perfidious, and drunken
god's a sleepe he'll rob his Bottle.
Ile kisse thy foot, Ile sweare my selfe thy Subiect
Come on then: downe and sweare.
I shall laugh my selfe to death at this
ded Monster: a most scuruie Monster: I
could finde in
my heart to beate him.
But that the poore Monster's in drinke:
An abhominable Monster.
I'le shew thee the best Springs: I'le plucke thee
Berries: I'le fish for thee; and get thee wood enough.
A plague vpon the Tyrant that I serue;
I'le beare him no more Stickes, but follow thee, thou
A most rediculous Monster, to make a wonder of
I'prethee let me bring thee where Crabs grow;
and I with my long
nayles will digge thee pig‑nuts;
show thee a Iayes nest,
and instruct thee how to snare
the nimble Marmazet: I'le bring
thee to clustring
Philbirts, and sometimes I'le get thee young
from the Rocke: Wilt thou goe with me?
I pre'thee now lead the way without any more
Trinculo, the King, and all our company else
being dround, wee will inherit here: Here; beare my
Trinculo; we'll fill him
by and by a
Caliban Sings drunkenly.
Farewell Master; farewell, farewell.
A howling Monster: a drunken Monster.
No more dams I'le make for fish,
Nor fetch in firing, at requiring,
Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish,
Ban' ban' Cacalyban
Has a new Master, get a new Man.
Freedome, high‑day, high‑day freedome, freedome
O braue Monster; lead the way.