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Must be so too, if heed me; which to do,
Well; I am standing water.
Do so: to ebb,
Pr’ythee, say on:
Thus, sir :
I have no hope
O, out of that no hope
He's gone. Ant.
Then tell me, Who's the next heir of Naples ? Seb.
Claribel. · Ant. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post, (The man i' the moon's too slow,) till new-born chins Be rough and razorable: she, from whom We all were sea-swallowed, though some cast again; And, by that destiny, to perform an act, Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come, In yours and my discharge. Seb.
What stuff is this?—How say you?
'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis;
A space whose every cubit
Seb. Methinks, I do.
And how does your content
Seb. But, for your conscience
Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that ? if it were a kybe, 'Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not This deity in my bosom : twenty consciences, That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they, And melt, e'er they molest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he's like, that's dead; Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed forever: whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk; They'll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour. Seb.
Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan, I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st; And I the king shall love thee. Ant.
Draw together :
My master thrare in ; and them living: A Lo s ear.
And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
O, but one word.
[They converse apart. Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible. Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth, For else his projects die, to keep them living.
[Sings in GONZALO S ear.
His time doth take:
What's the matter?
I heard nothing
Heard you this, Gonzalo ?
Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make further search
Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island.
Lead away. Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:
[Aside. So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — Another Part of the Island.
Trin. 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 bumbard 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 lay 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 hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past.
Enter STEPHANO, singing; a bottle in his hand.
Ste. 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. The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
The gunner, and his mate,
But none of us cared for Kate :
Would cry to a sailor, Go, hang:
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang. This is a scurvy tune, too: But here's my comfort.
[Drinks. Cal. Do not torment me: 0!
Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde? 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.
Cal. The spirit torments me: 0!
Ste. 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.
Cal. Do not torment me, pr’ythee; I'll bring my wood home faster.
Ste. He's in his fit now; and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he hath 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.
Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt
Ste. Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat; open your mouth: