STEPHANO.
No, monster, not I.
CALIBAN.
Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices,
That, if I then had wak’d after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me; that, when I wak’d,
I cried to dream again.
STEPHANO.
This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing.
CALIBAN.
When Prospero is destroyed.
STEPHANO.
That shall be by and by: I remember the story.
TRINCULO.
The sound is going away. Let’s follow it, and after do our work.
STEPHANO.
Lead, monster: we’ll follow. I would I could see this taborer! he lays it on. Wilt come?
TRINCULO.
I’ll follow, Stephano.
[Exeunt.]