What things are these, my lord Antonio? Will money buy 'em? ANT. Very like; one of them Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. PROS. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave, His mother was a witch, and one so strong That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, CAL. I shall be pinch'd to death. ALON. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? SEB. He is drunk now: where had he wine? ALON. And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em? TRIN. I have been in such a pickle since I saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing. SEB. Why, how now, Stephano! STE. O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a cramp. PROS. You'ld be king o' the isle, sirrah? STE. I should have been a sore one then. ALON. This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd on. [Pointing to CALiban. PROS. He is as disproportion'd in his manners As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell; Take with you your companions; as you look To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. CAL. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass Was I, to take this drunkard for a god And worship this dull fool! PROS. Go to; away! ALON. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. SEB. Or stole it, rather. [Exeunt CAL., STE., and TRIN. PROS. Sir, I invite your highness and your train To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest For this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it Go quick away; the story of my life And the particular accidents gone by Since I came to this isle: and in the morn I'll bring you to your ship and so to Naples, ALON. To hear the story of your life, which must I long PROS. I'll deliver all; And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales And sail so expeditious that shall catch Your royal fleet far off. [Aside to ARI.] My Ariel, chick, That is thy charge: then to the elements Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near. [Exeunt. Now EPILOGUE. SPOKEN BY PROSPERO. my charms are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have's mine own, Which is most faint: now, 'tis true, I must be here confined by you, Let me not, Or sent to Naples. Let your indulgence set me free. Edinburgh: T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majest Heinemann's Favourite Classics, 6d. net. This Series is supplied to the trade on net terms which allow of no discount to the public. Abroad carriage must be paid in addition to the published price of 6d. net per volume. |