My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and thy

bush.

STEPH. Come, swear to that: kiss the book. I will furnish it anon with new contents: swear.

TRIN. By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! I afeard of him! A very weak monster ! The man i'the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well drawn,' monster, in good sooth! 150

CAL. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island; And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god.

TRIN, By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster! when's god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle.

CAL. I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject.

STEPH. Come on then; down, and swear.

TRIN. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppyheaded monster. A most scurvy monster!

find in my heart to beat him,—

STEPH. Come, kiss.

I could

160

TRIN. But that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable monster!

CAL. 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.

1 Drawn, drunk,

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

170

CAL. I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs

grow;

And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts ;1
Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee
To clustering filberts and sometimes I'll get thee
Young scamels3 from the rock. Wilt thou go with
me?

STEPH. I prithee now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company else being drown'd, we will inherit here: here; bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we 'll fill him by and by again.

CAL. [Sings drunkenly]

180

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 scrape trenchering, nor wash dish:

'Ban, 'Ban, Cacaliban

Has a new master: get a new man.

Freedom, hey-day! hey-day,' freedom! freedom, [190 hey-day, freedom!

STEPH. O brave monster! Lead the way. [Exeunt.

1 Hey-day, hurrah! spelt in the Folio here, high-day; in Hamlet iii., 4, 69, hey-day.

Aqt iii.

SCENE I. Before PROSPERO'S cell.

Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log.

FER. 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 dead2
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, ΙΟ
Upon a sore3 injunction: my sweet mistress

Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such base

ness

Had never like executor.

1 Some sports are laborious (painful = requiring pains), but the delight we take in them compensates us for the labour. Malone well com. pares Macbeth ii., 3. 55.

I forget:

"The labour we delight in physics pain.

2 Gives life to what would otherwise be dull and dead.

3 Sore, grievous, heavy.

But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my
Most busy left, when I do it.'

labours

Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance,

MIR.

unseen.

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.

FER.

O most dear mistress,

The sun will set before I shall discharge

What I must strive to do.

MIR.

If you'll sit down,

I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that;
I'll carry it to the pile.

FER.

No, precious creature ; I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo,

1 Most busy left, when I do it. This is the great crux of the play. The first Folio has "most busie lest, when I doe it," which gives no intelligible sense, but if we make the slight change of long s into f the meaning is sufficiently clear and in harmony with Ferdinand s meditative mood. Ferdinand enters bearing a log, which we must suppose he sets down, or leans upon to meditate on Miranda; "I forget my task," he says, "but these thoughts refresh my labours, and, though neglectful of my work for the t me, I am in reality

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