Alon. I heard nothing. Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear; To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions. Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo ? Gon. Upon mine honor, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me: I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn :-there was a noise, That's verity. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard; Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make further search Ari. Prospero, my lord, shall know what I have done : So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [aside. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another part of the island. Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard. Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Sometime like apes, that moe 1 and chatter at me, Enter TRINCulo. Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me, Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' the wind: yond' same black cloud, yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard 2 that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. -What have we here? a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John. A strange fish! A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of Make mouths. 2 A leathern flagon to hold beer. silver: there would this monster make a man: any strange beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame out ten to see a dead Indian. beggar, they will lay Legged like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt. [thunder.] Alas! the storm is come again my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; 1 there is no other shelter hereabout. Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past. Enter STEPHANO, singing; a bottle in his hand. Here shall I die a-shore ; This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: Well, here's my comfort. The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I, The gunner, and his mate, Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, For she had a tongue with a tang, She loved not the savor of tar nor of pitch, [drinks. Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch : This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort. Cal. Do not torment me. O! 1 The coarse frock of a peasant. [drinks. |