STEPHANO.
My man-monster hath drown’d his tongue in sack: for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I could recover the shore, five-and-thirty leagues, off and on, by this light. Thou shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or my standard.
TRINCULO.
Your lieutenant, if you list; he’s no standard.
STEPHANO.
We’ll not run, Monsieur monster.
TRINCULO.
Nor go neither. But you’ll lie like dogs, and yet say nothing neither.
STEPHANO.
Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good moon-calf.
CALIBAN.
How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe. I’ll not serve him, he is not valiant.
TRINCULO.
Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to justle a constable. Why, thou deboshed fish thou, was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as I today? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster?
CALIBAN.
Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?
TRINCULO.
“Lord” quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural!
CALIBAN.
Lo, lo again! bite him to death, I prithee.