Gonza. Heavens keep him from these beasts!
For he is, sure, i’ the island.
Alon. Lead away.
[Exit with the others.
Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:—
So, King, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exit.
Scene II.—Another part of the Island.
Enter Caliban, with a burden of wood. A noise of Thunder heard.
Cal. All the infections that the Sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By inch-meal[410-1] a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin-shows,[410-2] pitch me i’ the mire,
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand,[410-3] in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid ’em: but
For every trifle are they set upon me;
Sometime[410-4] like apes, that mow[410-5] and chatter at me
And after bite me; then like hedgehogs, which
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount
Their pricks[411-6] at my foot-fall; sometime am I
All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness. Lo, now, lo!
Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly. I’ll fall flat:
Perchance he will not mind me.[411-7]
Enter Trinculo.
Trin. Here’s neither bush nor shrub, to bear off[411-8] any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i’ the wind: yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard[411-9] 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.[411-10] 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 silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man:[411-11] when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg’d 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 thunder-bolt. [Thunder.] Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to creep under his gaberdine;[412-12] there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.
[Creeps under Caliban’s garment.