Enter Stephano, singing; a bottle in his hand.
| Steph. | I shall no more to sea, to sea, Here shall I die ashore;— |
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral: well, here’s my comfort. [Drinks.
| [Sings.] | The master, the swabber,[412-13] the boatswain, and I, The gunner, and his mate, Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, But none of us cared for Kate; For she had a tongue with a tang,[412-14] Would cry to a sailor, Go hang! She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch: Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang! |
This is a scurvy tune too: but here’s my comfort. [Drinks.
Steph. What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon’s with savages and men of Inde,[413-15] ha? I have not ’scaped drowning, to be afeared now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground; and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at’s nostrils.
Cal. The spirit torments me:—O!
Steph. This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the Devil should he learn our language? I will give him some 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 present for any emperor that ever trod on neat’s-leather.[413-16]
Cal. Do not torment me, pr’ythee:
I’ll bring my wood home faster.