Trin. O king Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look what a wardrobe here is for thee!
Cal. Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.
Trin. O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery! O king Stephano!
Steph. Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand I'll have that gown.
Trin. Thy grace shall have it.
Cal. The dropsy drown this fool! what do you mean
To dote thus on such luggage? Let's alone
And do the murder first: if he awake,
From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches,
Make us strange stuff.