[Gigantic, the twisted form of SYCORAX looms from within the rock.]
SYCORAX [Calling toward the sea.] Come, fish-fowl! Leave thy flapping in the mud And keep thy father’s temple. Call his priests. Thy father Toad’s a god, hath double teeth In his two heads. The Tiger loins of him Begot thee in my belly for a cub To lick his paws and purr, else he may pinch thee Behind an eye-tooth, like yon flitter mouse That hangs there wriggling.
THE VOICE OF CALIBAN So, so Sycorax!— Coming!
SYCORAX Aye, so so: crawling still!
[Malformed and hissing, CALIBAN enters on his belly and arms.]
CALIBAN Syc-Syco- Sycorax! See!
SYCORAX What hast thou got thee?
CALIBAN [Laughs, half rising, and holds up a wriggling creature.] Got A little god—a little Caliban. Ha!—make him out of mud. See: Squeezed it round And slipped him through my fist-hole. Am a god: [Rising.] See Sycorax—her grandchild!
SYCORAX ’Tis an eel-worm. Fling him to the white bat yonder.
[Her form vanishes in the rock.]