SCENE I. — Another part of the island. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others.

Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause, So have we all, of joy; for our escape

Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe
Is common; every day some sailor's wife,
The masters of some merchant and the merchant
Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.

Alon.
Prithee, peace.
Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.
Seb. Look, he 's winding up the watch of his wit;
Gon. Sir,-
[by and by it will strike.
Seb. One: tell.
[offer'd,
Gon. When every grief is entertain'd that's
Comes to the entertainer-

Seb. A dollar. [spoken truer than you purposed.
Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have
Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant
Gon. Therefore, my lord,-
[you should.
Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
Alon. I prithee, spare.

Gon. Well, I have done: but yet,-
Seb. He will be talking.

[first begins to crow? Ant. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, Seb. The old cock.

Ant. He could not miss 't. [cate temperance.
Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender and deli-
Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. [livered.
Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly de-
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb. As if it had lungs and rotten ones.
Ant. Or as 't were perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.

[green!

Seb. Of that there 's none, or little.
Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how
Ant. The ground indeed is tawny.
Seb. With an eye of green in 't.
Ant. He misses not much.

Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is,-which is indeed almost beyond credit,

Seb. As many vouched rarities are.

Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water. [it not say he lies? Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak,would Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. [well in our return. Seb. "T was a sweet marriage, and we prosper Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. Ant. Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow in? widow Dido!

Seb. What if he had said 'widower Æneas' too? Good Lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido' said you? you make me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. Adr. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you, Carthage.

Seb. His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath raised the wall and houses too.

Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?

Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket and give it his son for an apple. Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, Gon. Ay. [bring forth more islands.

Ant. Why, in good time. Gon. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. Ant. O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido. Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Ant. That sort was well fished for.
[riage?
Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's mar-
Alon. You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy removed

I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?

Fran.

Sir, he may live:

I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt
He came alive to land.

Prithee, peace.

Alon. No, no, he's gone. [loss, Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great That would not bless our Europe with your daughBut rather lose her to an African; [ter, Where she at least is banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the grief on 't. Alon. Seb. You were kneel'd to and importuned otherBy all of us, and the fair soul herself [wise Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have [your son, More widows in them of this business' making Than we bring men to comfort them: The fault's your own. Alon.

So is the dear'st o' the loss. Gon. My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness And time to speak it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster. Seb.

Very well.

Ant. And most chirurgeonly. Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. Seb.

Ant.

Foul weather?

Very foul. Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,— Ant. He 'ld sow 't with nettle-seed.

Seb.
Or docks, or mallows.
Gon. And were the king on 't, what would I do?

Seb. 'Scape being drunk for want of wine.
Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;
No occupation; all men idle, all;

And women too, but innocent and pure;
No sovereignty;—

Seb.

Yet he would be king on't.

Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.

Gon. All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects? Ant. None, man; all idle: whores and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age. God save his majesty!

Seb.

Ant. Long live Gonzalo! Gon. And, do you mark me, sir? Alon. Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.

Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.

Ant. Twas you we laughed at.

[still.

Gon. Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you may continue and laugh at nothing Ant. What a blow was there given! Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long. Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.

Enter Ariel, invisible, playing solemn music. Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. [I am very heavy? [All sleep except Alon., Seb., and Ant. Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclined to do so. Seb. Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,

It is a comforter.

Ant.

We two, my lord,

Will guard your person while you take your rest,

And watch your safety.
Alon.
Thank you. Wondrous heavy.
[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel.
Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.
Why

Seb.
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself disposed to sleep.

Ant.
Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?- No more:-
And yet me thinks I see it in thy face,
What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
Seb.

What, art thou waking? Ant. Do you not hear me speak? Seb. I do; and surely

Then, tell me,

Claribel.

Who's the next heir of Naples?
Seb.
Ant. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells
Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post-
The man i' the moon's too slow-till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable; she that- from whom?
We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again,
And by that destiny to perform an act
Whereof what 's past is prologue, what to come
In yours and my discharge.
Seb.
What stuff is this! how say you?
'Tis true, my brother's daughter 's queen of Tunis;
So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions
There is some space.

Ant.
A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, 'How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake.' Say, this were death
That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse
Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate
As amply and unnecessarily
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?
Seb. Methinks I do.
Ant.
And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?
Seb.
I remember
You did supplant your brother Prospero.

Ant.

True:

And look how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before: my brother's servants
Were then my fellows; now they are my men.
Seb. But, for your conscience?

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if 't were a kibe,
"T would put me to my slipper: but I feel not
This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they
And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brothier,
No better than the earth he lies upon,

If he were that which now he 's like, that 's dead;
Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;
They'll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.

Seb.
Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;
And I the king shall love thee.

Draw together;

Ant.
And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.
Seb.

O, but one word. [They talk apart.
Re-enter Ariel, invisible.

Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth For else his project dies—to keep them living. [Sings in Gonzalo's ear. While you here do snoring lie, Open-eyed conspiracy

His time doth take.

If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake, awake!

Ant. Then let us both be sudden.
Gon.
Now, good angels
Preserve the king.
[They wake.
Alon. Why, how now? ho, awake! Why are
Wherefore this ghastly looking? [you drawn?
Gon.
What 's the matter?
Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions: did 't not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.

Alon. I heard nothing. Ant. O, 't was 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 honour, 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 verily. T is 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 furFor my poor son. [ther search Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island. Alon.

Lead away. [done: Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. — Another part of the island.

Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but
For every trifle are they set upon me;
Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me
And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount
Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I
All wound with adders who with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness.

Enter Trinculo.

Lo, now, lo!

Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall fiat;
Perchance he will not mind 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 bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same What cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fishlike smell; a kind of not of the newest Poor-John. 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 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 beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. 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; there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.

Enter Stephano, singing: a bottle in his hand.
Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die ashore-

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's
funeral: well, here's my comfort.
[Drinks.
[Sings.

The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I,
The gunner and his mate

Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery,
But none of us cared for Kate;
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!

She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang! [itch:
This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort.
[Drinks.

Cal. Do not torment me: Oh!

Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon 's with savages and men of Ind, ha? I have not scaped drowning to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground; and it shall be said so again while Stephano breathes at 's nostrils.

Cal. The spirit torments me; Oh!

Ste. This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will give

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,

cover him and keep him tame and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather.

Cal. Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood home faster.

Ste. He's in his fit now and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him; he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly.

Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.

Ste. Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat: open your mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend: open your chaps again.

Trin. I should know that voice: it should bebut he is drowned; and these are devils: O defend me!

Ste. Four legs and two voices: a most delicate monster! His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. Come. Amen! I will pour some in thy other mouth.

Trin. Stephano!

Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no long spoon.

Trin. Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me and speak to me; for I am Trinculo-be not afeard thy good friend Trinculo.

Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I'll pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How camest thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? can he vent Trinculos?

Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunderstroke. But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now thou art not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scaped! Ste. Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.

Cal. [Aside] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites.

That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor.
I will kneel to him.

Ste. How didst thou 'scape? How camest thou hither? swear by this bottle how thou camest hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack which the sailors heaved o'erboard, by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree with mine own hands since I was cast ashore.

Cal. I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject; for the liquor is not earthly.

Ste. Here; swear then how thou escapedst. Trin. Swum ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn.

Ste. Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this? Ste. The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the sea-side where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! how does thine ague?

Cal. Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven?

Ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i' the moon when time was.

Cal. I have seen thee in her and I do adore thee: My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and thy bush.

Ste. Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish it anon with new contents: swear.

Trin. By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The man i'the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well drawn, monster, in good sooth!

Cal. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island; And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god. Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster! when 's god's asleep, he 'll rob his bottle. Cal. I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subSte. Come on then; down, and swear. [ject. Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppyheaded monster. A most scurvy monster! I could Ste. Come, kiss. [find in my heart to beat him,Trin. But that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable monster! [thee berries; Cal. I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, Thou wondrous man.

Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard!

Cal. I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee To clustering filberts and sometimes I'll get thee Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

Ste. I prithee now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company else being drowned, we will inherit here: here; bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we 'll fill him by and by Cal. [Sings drunkenly] [again.

Farewell, master; farewell, farewell! Trin. A howling monster; a drunken monster! Cul. No more dams I'll make for fish; Nor fetch in firing

At requiring;

Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish:
'Ban, 'Ban, Cacaliban

Has a new master: get a new man.
Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-
day, freedom!
Ste. O brave monster! Lead the way.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.- Before Prospero's cell.

Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log.

Fer. There be some sports are painful, and their labour

Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone and most poor matters
Point to rich ends. This my mean task
Would be as heavy to me as odious, but
The mistress which I serve quickens what 's dead
And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed,
And he's composed of harshness. I must remove

[ness

Some thousands of these logs and pile them up,
Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such base-
Had never like executor. I forget:

But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,
Most busy lest, when I do it.

Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a distance, unseen.
Mir.
Alas, now, pray you,
Work not so hard: I would the lightning had
Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile!
Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns,
'T will weep for having wearied you. My father

Miranda. O my father,

I have broke your hest to say so!
Fer.

Admired Miranda!
Indeed the top of admiration! worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have eyed with best regard and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues
Have I liked several women; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed
And put it to the foil: but you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best!

I do not know

Mir.
One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen
More that I may call men than you, good friend,
And my dear father: how features are abroad,

I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you,
Nor can imagination form a shape,
Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle
Something too wildly and my father's precepts
I therein do forget.

Fer.

I am in my condition

A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;

I would, not so!-and would no more endure
This wooden slavery than to suffer

The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak:
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service; there resides,
To make me slave to it; and for your sake
Am I this patient log-man.

Mir.

Do you love me?

Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound And crown what I profess with kind event If I speak true! if hollowly, invert What best is boded me to mischief! I Beyond all limit of what else i' the world Do love, prize, honour you.

Mir.

I am a fool

To weep at what I am glad of.

Pros. Fair encounter Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between 'em!

Fer. Wherefore weep you? Mir. At mine unworthiness that dare not offer What I desire to give, and much less take What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide itself,

The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!

My husband, then?

Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing

As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand.
Mir. And mine, with my heart in 't: and now
Till half an hour hence.
[farewell
Fer.
A thousand thousand!
[Exeunt Fer. and Mir. severally.
Pros. So glad of this as they I cannot be,
Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing
At nothing can be more. I'll to my book,
For yet ere supper-time must I perform
Much business appertaining.

[Exit.

SCENE II.—Another part of the island. Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo. Ste. Tell not me; when the butt is out, we will drink water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and board 'em. Servant-monster, drink to me.

Trin. Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They say there's but five upon this isle: we are three of them; if th' other two be brained like us, the state totters.

Ste. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes are almost set in thy head.

Trin. Where should they be set else? he were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. Ste. 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.

[ard.

Trin. Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standSte. We'll not run, Monsieur Monster. Trin. Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs and yet say nothing neither.

Ste. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good moon-calf. [shoe. Cal. How does thy honour? Let me lick thy I'll not serve him; he 's not valiant.

Trin. 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 to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster? [my lord?

Cal. Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, Trin. Lord' quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural!

Cal. Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee. Ste. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if you prove a mutineer,-the next tree! The poor monster's my subject and he shall not suffer indignity.

Cal. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to hearken once again to the suit I made to thee? Ste. Marry, will I kneel and repeat it; I will stand, and so shall Trinculo.