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Seems to cry out, "How shall that Claribel
Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
And how does your content
I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero.
And look how well my garments sit upon me;
Seb. But, for your conscience?
Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if 't were a kibe,
If he were that which now he 's like, that 's dead;
This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who
Shall be my precedent; I'll come by Naples. stroke
Thy case, dear friend, as thou got'st Milan, Draw thy sword:
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest:
O, but one word.
[They talk apart.
Re-enter ARIEL, invisible
Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger
That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth
His time doth take.
Ant. Then let us both be sudden.
Now, good angels
Alon. Why, how now? ho, awake! Why are
Wherefore this ghastly looking?
Gon. What's the matter? Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, 310 Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions: did 't not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly.
I heard nothing. Ant. O, 't was a din to fright a monster's ear, To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions.
Heard you this, Gonzalo? Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me: I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise, That's verily. "T is best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground; and let 's make further search
For my poor son.
Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island.
Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.
Another part of the island
Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of
Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up
Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Lo, now, lo!
Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me
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, 20 yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard 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 30 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 shel- 40 ter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past. under his cloak)
Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand
Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea,
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral well, here 's my comfort.
The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I,
Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery