Trinc. Brother monster, welcome to my private palace. But where's thy sister? is she so brave a lass?
Calib. In all this isle there are but two more, the daughters of the tyrant Prospero; and she is bigger than them both. O, here she comes! now thou mayest judge thyself, my lord.
Enter Sycorax.
Trinc. She's monstrous fair indeed. Is this to be my spouse? Well, she's heir of all this isle (for I will geld monster). The Trincalos, like other wise men, have anciently used to marry for estate, more than for beauty.
Syc. I pr'ythee let me have the gay thing about thy neck, and that which dangles at thy wrist.
[Sycorax points to his whistle and his bottle.
Trinc. My dear blubber-lips! this—observe, my chuck—is a badge of my sea-office; my fair fuss, thou dost not know it.
Syc. No, my dread lord.
Trinc. It shall be a whistle for our first babe, and when the next shipwreck puts me again to swimming, I'll dive to get a coral to it.
Syc. I'll be thy pretty child, and wear it first.
Trinc. I pr'ythee, sweet baby, do not play the wanton, and cry for my goods ere I'm dead. When thou art my widow, thou shalt have the devil and all.