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This is a very fcurvy tune to fing at a man's funeral; well,

here's my comfort.

[Drinks.

Sings. The mafter, the fwabber, the boatfwain and I,

The gunner and his mate,

Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian and Margery,

But none of us car'd for Kate;

For fhe had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a failor, go hang:

She lov'd not the favour of tar nor of pitch,
Yet a taylor might fcratch her, where-e'er she did itch.
Then to fea, boys, and let her go hang.

This is a fcurvy tune too; but here's my comfort. [Drinks.
CAL. Do not torment me, oh!

STE. What's the matter? have we devils here? do you put tricks upon's with favages, and men of Inde? ha? I have not fcap'd drowning to be afraid now of your four legs; for it hath been faid, As proper a man, as ever went upon four legs cannot make him give ground; and it shall be said fo again, while Stephano breathes at his noftrils.

CAL. The fpirit torments me: oh!

STE. This is fome moniter of the ifle with four legs, who bas got, as I take it, an ague: where the devil fhould he learn our language? I will give him fome 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 prefent for any Emperor that ever trod on neats-leather.

CLA. Do not torment me, pr'ythee; I'll bring my wood home fafter.

STE. He's in his fit now; and does not talk after the wifeft: he fhall tafte of my bottle. If he 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 fhall pay for him, that hath him, and that foundly.
CAL. Thou doft me yet but little hurt;

Thou wilt anon, I know it, by thy trembling:
Now Profper works upon thee.

STE. Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat; open your mouth: this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that foundly: you cannot tell who's your friend: open your chaps again.

TRIN. I fhould know that voice; it should be- -but he is drown'd; and thefe are devils: O! defend me

STE. Four legs and two voices, a most delicate monster! his forward voice now is to fpeak well of his friend; his backward voice is to fpatter foul fpeeches, and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague: come: Amen! I will pour fome in thy other mouth.

TRIN. Stephano,

STE. Doth thy other mouth call me? mercy! mercy! this is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no long spoon.

TRIN. Stephano! if thou beeft Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo; be not afraid, thy good friend Trinculo.

STE. If thou beeft Trinculo, come forth, I'll pull thee by the leffer legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, thefe are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed: how cam'ft thou to be the fiege of this moon-calf? can he vent Trinculos?

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TRIN. I took him to be kill'd with a thunder-ftroke: but art thou not drown'd, Stephano? I hope, now, thou

art not drown'd: is the ftorm over-blown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine, for fear of the storm: and art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans scap'd!

STE. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about, my ftomach is not conftant.

CAL. These be fine things, an' if they be not sprights : That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor:

I will kneel to him.

STE. How didft thon 'fcape? how cam'ft thou hither ? fwear by this bottle, how thou cam'st hither; I escap'd upon a butt of fack, which the failors heav'd over-board, by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, fince I was caft a-shore.

CAL. I'll fwear upon that bottle, to be thy true fubject; for the liquor is not earthly.

STE. Here; fwear then, how escap'dst thou?

TRIN. Swom a-fhore, man, like a duck; I can fwim like a duck, I'll be fworn.

STE. Here, kifs the book. Though thou canft swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose.

TRIN. O Stephano, haft any more of this?

STE. The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a rock by th' fea-fide where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf, how does thine ague ?

CAL. Haft thou not dropt from heav'n ?

STE. Out o'th' moon, I do affure thee. I was the man in th' moon, when time was.

CAL. I have feen thee in her? and I do adore thee: my mistress fhew'd me thee, and thy dog and thy bush.

STE. Come, fwear to that; kifs the book: I will furnifh it anon with new contents: fwear.

TRIN. By this good light, this is a very shallow monster; I afraid of him? a very fhallow monfter: the man i'th' moon —— a moft poor credulous monster: well drawn, monster, in good footh.

CAL. I'll fhew thee every fertile inch o' th' ifle, And I will kifs thy foot: I pr'ythee be my god.

TRIN. By this light, a moft perfidious and drunken monster; when his god's afleep, he'll rob his bottle. CAL. I'll kiss thy foot. I'll fwear myself thy fubject. STE. Come on then; down and swear.

TRIN. I fhall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster; a most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him

STE. Come, kifs.

TRIN.

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But that the poor monster's in drink; an abominable monster!

CAL. I'll fhew 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 fticks, but follow thee,

Thou wond'rous man.

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

CAL. I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; Shew thee a jay's-neft, and inftruct thee how To fnare the nimble marmazet; I'll bring thee To cluft'ring filberds, and fometimes I'll get thee

Young Scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? STE. 1 pry'thee now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company being

drown'd, we will inherit here. Here, bear my bottle; fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again.

2

CAL. [Sings drunkenly] Farewell, master; farewell, farewell.

TRIN. A howling monster; a drunken monster.
CAL. No more dams I'll make for fish,
Nor fetch in firing at requiring,

Nor fcrape trencher, nor wash dish.
Ban', Ban', Cacalyban

Has a new mafter, get a new man.

Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-dey,

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THERE be fome sports are painful, but their labour
Delight in them fets off: fome kinds of baseness

Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters
Point to rich ends. This my mean task wou'd be
As heavy to me, as 'tis odious: but

The mistress, which I ferve, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours pleasure: O, the 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,

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