Ste. How now shall this be compast?
Canst thou bring me to the party?
Cal. Yea, yea my Lord, Ile yeeld him thee asleepe,
Where thou maist knocke a naile into his head
Ariell. Thou liest, thou canst not
Cal. What a py'de Ninnie's this? Thou scuruy patch:
I do beseech thy Greatnesse giue him blowes,
And take his bottle from him: When that's gone,
He shall drinke nought but brine, for Ile not shew him
Where the quicke Freshes are
Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger:
Interrupt the Monster one word further, and by this
hand, Ile turne my mercie out o' doores, and make a
Stockfish of thee
Trin. Why, what did I? I did nothing:
Ile go farther off
Ste. Didst thou not say he lyed?
Ariell. Thou liest
Ste. Do I so? Take thou that,
As you like this, giue me the lye another time
Trin. I did not giue the lie: Out o'your wittes, and
hearing too?
A pox o'your bottle, this can Sacke and drinking doo:
A murren on your Monster, and the diuell take your
fingers
Cal. Ha, ha, ha