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inch o’ the island;

       And I will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god.

       TRINCULO. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster: when his god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle.

       CALIBAN.

       I’ll kiss thy foot: I’ll swear myself thy subject.

       STEPHANO.

       Come on, then; down, and swear.

       TRINCULO. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him,—

       STEPHANO.

       Come, kiss.

       TRINCULO. But that the poor monster’s in drink: an abominable monster!

       CALIBAN.

       I’ll show thee the best springs; I’ll pluck thee

       berries;

       I’ll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.

       A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!

       I’ll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,

       Thou wondrous man.

       TRINCULO. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard!

       CALIBAN.

       I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;

       And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;

       Show thee a jay’s nest, and instruct thee how

       To snare the nimble marmozet; I’ll bring thee

       To clust’ring filberts, and sometimes I’ll get thee

       Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

       STEPHANO. I prithee now, lead the way without any more talking—Trinculo, the king and all our company else being drowned, we will inherit here.—Here, bear my bottle.—Fellow Trinculo, we’ll fill him by and by again.

       CALIBAN.

       Farewell, master; farewell, farewell! [Sings drunkenly]

       TRINCULO.

       A howling monster, a drunken monster.

       CALIBAN.

       No more dams I’ll make for fish;

       Nor fetch in firing

       At requiring,

       Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish;

       ‘Ban ‘Ban, Ca—Caliban,

       Has a new master—Get a new man.

       Freedom, high-day! high-day, freedom! freedom,

       high-day, freedom!

       STEPHANO.

       O brave monster! lead the way.

       [Exeunt]

ACT 3

       Table of Contents

       SCENE I. Before PROSPERO’S cell

       [Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log.]

       FERDINAND.

       There be some sports are painful, and their labour

       Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness

       Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters

       Point to rich ends. This my mean task

       Would be as heavy to me as odious; but

       The mistress which I serve quickens what’s dead,

       And makes my labours pleasures: O! she is

       Ten times more gentle than her father’s crabbed,

       And he’s compos’d of harshness. I must remove

       Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,

       Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress

       Weeps when she sees me work, and says such baseness

       Had never like executor. I forget:

       But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,

       Most busy, least when I do it.

       [Enter MIRANDA: and PROSPERO behind.]

       MIRANDA.

       Alas! now pray you,

       Work not so hard: I would the lightning had

       Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin’d to pile!

       Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns,

       ‘Twill weep for having wearied you. My father

       Is hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself:

       He’s safe for these three hours.

       FERDINAND.

       O most dear mistress,

       The sun will set, before I shall discharge

       What I must strive to do.

       MIRANDA.

       If you’ll sit down,

       I’ll bear your logs the while. Pray give me that;

       I’ll carry it to the pile.

       FERDINAND.

       No, precious creature:

       I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,

       Than you should such dishonour undergo,

       While I sit lazy by.

       MIRANDA.

       It would become me

       As well as it does you: and I should do it

       With much more ease; for my good will is to it,

       And yours it is against.

       PROSPERO.

       [Aside] Poor worm! thou art infected:

       This visitation shows it.

       MIRANDA.

       You look wearily.

       FERDINAND.

       No, noble mistress; ‘tis fresh morning with me

       When you are by at night. I do beseech you—

       Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers—

       What is your name?

       MIRANDA.

       Miranda—O my father!

       I have broke your hest to say so.

       FERDINAND.

       Admir’d Miranda!

       Indeed, the top of admiration; worth

       What’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady

       I have ey’d with best regard, and many a time

       The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage

       Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues

       Have I lik’d several women; never any

       With so full soul but some defect in her

       Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow’d,

       And put it to the foil: but you, O you!

       So perfect and so peerless, are created

       Of every creature’s best.

       MIRANDA.

       I do not know

       One of my sex; no woman’s face remember,

       Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen

       More that I may call men than you, good friend,

       And my dear father: how features are abroad,

      

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