CALIBAN [Springing up.] No, no! Follow not! Let him not follow! ’Tis A spirit lureth to Setebos and Death. He knoweth him not, what ’tis;—but, master, I know. Me, me too hath he beckoned with blind eyes And offered his gray cloth.
PROSPERO Thee? Death hath beckoned And yet thou didst not follow?
CALIBAN Hither I fled To serve thee, but he said that I should fail; Yet—yet, and thou wilt help, I will not fail!
PROSPERO And what wouldst have of me?
CALIBAN [Pointing to Ariel.] Thy wonder scroll: Nay, not thy staff again! Will never more Botch with thy lightnings. Nay, but this littler thing Lend me, and let me bear it against Death To free my father’s spirit from his gray pall. Lettest Ariel: let now thy Caliban Conspire to serve thee.
[He reaches for the scroll.]
PROSPERO Why, thou wheedlest well, And I must hope in thy self-weening. Yet Beware lest thou thyself shalt wear the drab Thou takest from him: Gray hath arsenic More keen than scarlet or the corroding blood That sered the flesh of Hercules.
CALIBAN [Eagerly.] Wilt lend me The scroll?
PROSPERO [With a gesture to Ariel.] Here!
[Ariel hands the scroll, which Prospero then gives to Caliban.]