The Tempest, Act 2, Scene 2

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, 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.

May every infection the sun draws up out of bogs, marshes and mudflats fall on Prosper, and turn him inch by inch into one big disease! His spirits can hear me, and still I have to curse. But they won't pinch me, or frighten me with goblin shapes, or throw me into the mud, or lead me astray in the dark like a will-o'-the-wisp, unless he orders them to; but for every little thing they're sent at me — sometimes like apes that make faces and jabber at me, and then bite me; then like hedgehogs that roll about in my path where I walk barefoot, and stick their spines up when my foot comes down; sometimes I'm wrapped all over with adders, who hiss at me with their forked tongues until I go mad.

Lo, now, lo! Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly. I’ll fall flat; Perchance he will not mind me.

Look, now, look! Here comes one of his spirits, to torment me for bringing the wood in slowly. I'll lie down flat; maybe he won't notice me.

Here’s neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i’ th’ 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 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! 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. Legg’d 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 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.

There's not a bush or a shrub here to give any shelter from the weather at all, and another storm is brewing; I can hear it singing in the wind. That black cloud over there, that huge one, looks like a filthy leather jug about to spill its drink. If it thunders the way it did before, I don't know where I'll hide my head: that cloud can't help pouring down in bucketfuls. What have we here? A man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very old, fishy smell; a sort of dried salt cod that's not of the freshest. A strange fish! If I were in England now, as I once was, and had nothing but this fish on a painted sign, every holiday idiot there would hand over a piece of silver: there this monster would make my fortune; any strange animal there makes a man's fortune. When they won't give a penny to help a lame beggar, they'll spend ten to see a dead Indian. Legs like a man's, and his fins like arms! Warm, on my word! I'll let go of my first opinion now, and hold it no longer: this is no fish, but an islander who's recently been struck by a thunderbolt. [Thunder.] Oh no, the storm has come again! My best plan is to crawl under his cloak; there's no other shelter around here: misery introduces a man to strange bedfellows. I'll hide in here until the last dregs of the storm have passed.

I shall no more to sea, to sea, Here shall I die ashore—

I'll go to sea no more, to sea, here on shore I'll die—

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral. Well, here’s my comfort.

This is a wretched 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, But none of us car’d for Kate: For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a sailor “Go hang!” She lov’d not the savour of tar nor of pitch, Yet a tailor might scratch her where’er she did itch. Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.

The master, the deck-swabber, the boatswain and I, the gunner and his mate, all loved Mall, Meg, Marian and Margery, but none of us cared for Kate: because she had a sharp-stinging tongue, and would shout at a sailor "Go hang!" She had no liking for the smell of tar or pitch, yet a tailor might scratch her wherever she itched. So off to sea, boys, and let her go hang.

This is a scurvy tune too: but here’s my comfort.

This is a wretched tune too: but here's my comfort.

Do not torment me: O!

Don't torment me: oh!

What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon ’s with savages and men of Ind? Ha? I have not scap’d 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’ nostrils.

What's going on? Do we have devils here? Are you playing tricks on us with savages and men of Ind? Ha? I didn't escape drowning just to be scared now of your four legs; because it's been said, "As fine a man as ever walked on four legs can't make him give ground"; and it shall be said again, as long as Stephano is still breathing through his nostrils.

The spirit torments me: O!

The spirit is tormenting me: oh!

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 him some relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover 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.

This is some monster of the island with four legs, who has caught, as I take it, a fever. Where the devil could he have learned our language? I'll give him some relief, if only for that reason. If I can cure him and keep him tame and get to Naples with him, he's a gift fit for any emperor that ever walked in leather shoes.

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

Please, don't torment me; I'll carry my wood home faster.

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.

He's having his fit now, and isn't talking very sensibly. He shall have a taste from my bottle: if he's never drunk wine before, it will come close to curing his fit. If I can cure him and keep him tame, no price will be too high for him. Whoever owns him will pay for him, and pay well.

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

You've done me only a little harm so far; you'll do more soon, I know it by your trembling: Prosper is working on you now.

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. [gives Caliban a drink] You cannot tell who’s your friend: open your chaps again.

Come here. Open your mouth; here's something that will give you the power of speech, cat. Open your mouth. This will shake your shaking out of you, I can tell you, and thoroughly. [He gives Caliban a drink.] You can't tell who your friend is: open your jaws again.

I should know that voice: it should be—but he is drowned; and these are devils. O, defend me!

I ought to know that voice: it must be — but he's drowned; and these are devils. Oh, protect me!

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.

Four legs and two voices; a most exquisite monster! His front voice is for speaking well of his friend; his back voice is for spouting foul language and running people down. If all the wine in my bottle will cure him, I'll see to his fever. Come on. Amen! I'll pour some into your other mouth.

Stephano!

Stephano!

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

Is your other mouth calling me? Mercy! Mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I'll leave him; I don't have a long spoon.

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

Stephano! If you're Stephano, touch me and speak to me; because I'm Trinculo — don't be afraid — your good friend Trinculo.

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 cam’st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos?

If you're Trinculo, come out. I'll pull you out by the smaller legs: if any of these are Trinculo's legs, these are the ones. You really are Trinculo! How did you come to be the droppings of this half-formed lump? Can he pass out Trinculos?

I took him to be kill’d with a thunderstroke. But art thou not drown’d, Stephano? I hope now thou are not drown’d. 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 scap’d!

I thought he'd been killed by a stroke of lightning. But aren't you drowned, Stephano? I hope now that you're not drowned. Has the storm blown over? I hid under the dead lump's cloak out of fear of the storm. And are you alive, Stephano? Oh Stephano, two Neapolitans escaped!

Prithee, do not turn me about. My stomach is not constant.

Please, don't spin me round. My stomach isn't steady.

[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.

[Aside.] These are fine creatures, if they aren't spirits. That's a splendid god, and he carries heavenly drink. I'll kneel to him.

How didst thou scape? How cam’st thou hither? Swear by this bottle how thou cam’st 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.

How did you escape? How did you get here? Swear by this bottle how you got here — I escaped on a barrel of sack that the sailors threw overboard, by this bottle! which I made out of tree bark with my own hands, after I was washed ashore.

I’ll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject, for the liquor is not earthly.

I'll swear on that bottle to be your loyal subject, because that drink isn't of this earth.

Here. Swear then how thou escapedst.

Here. Swear, then, how you escaped.

Swum ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim like a duck, I’ll be sworn.

Swam ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim like a duck, I'd swear to it.

Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose.

Here, kiss the book. Though you can swim like a duck, you're built like a goose.

O Stephano, hast any more of this?

Oh Stephano, do you have any more of this?

The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by th’ seaside, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! How does thine ague?

The whole barrel, man: my cellar is in a rock by the seaside, where my wine is hidden. Well now, lump! How's your fever?

Hast thou not dropped from heaven?

Didn't you drop down from heaven?

Out o’ the moon, I do assure thee: I was the Man in the Moon, when time was.

Out of the moon, I assure you: I was the Man in the Moon, once upon a time.

I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee. My mistress showed me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush.

I've seen you in her, and I worship you. My mistress showed you to me, and your dog, and your bush.

Come, swear to that. Kiss the book. I will furnish it anon with new contents. Swear.

Come on, swear to that. Kiss the book. I'll fill it up with fresh contents soon. Swear.

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!

By this good daylight, this is a very stupid monster. Me, afraid of him? A very feeble monster. The Man in the Moon! A pathetically gullible monster! Well drunk, monster, honestly!

I’ll show thee every fertile inch o’ the island; and I will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god.

I'll show you every fertile inch of the island; and I'll kiss your foot. Please, be my god.

By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster. When ’s god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle.

By this daylight, a thoroughly treacherous and drunken monster. When his god's asleep, he'll steal his bottle.

I’ll kiss thy foot. I’ll swear myself thy subject.

I'll kiss your foot. I'll swear myself your subject.

Come on, then; down, and swear.

Come on, then; get down, and swear.

I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him,—

I'll laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster. A most wretched monster! I have half a mind to beat him—

Come, kiss.

Come on, kiss.

But that the poor monster’s in drink. An abominable monster!

Except that the poor monster is drunk. A disgusting monster!

I’ll show thee the best springs; I’ll pluck thee berries; 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.

I'll show you the best springs; I'll pick berries for you; I'll fish for you, and fetch you plenty of wood. A plague on the tyrant I serve! I'll carry no more sticks for him, but follow you, you marvellous man.

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

A completely ridiculous monster, to make a wonder out of a poor drunkard!

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?

Please, let me take you where crab apples grow; and with my long nails I'll dig up earth-nuts for you; I'll show you a jay's nest and teach you how to trap the quick marmoset; I'll take you to clusters of hazelnuts, and sometimes I'll get you young scamels from the rocks. Will you come with me?

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 again.

Please, now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, since the King and everyone else in our company are drowned, we'll take possession here. Here, carry my bottle. Trinculo, my friend, we'll fill it up again before long.

[Sings drunkenly.] Farewell, master; farewell, farewell!

[He sings drunkenly.] Goodbye, master; goodbye, goodbye!

A howling monster, a drunken monster.

A howling monster, a drunken monster.

No more dams I’ll make for fish; Nor fetch in firing At requiring, Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish; ’Ban ’Ban, Cacaliban, Has a new master—Get a new man. Freedom, high-day! high-day, freedom! freedom, high-day, freedom!

No more dams will I build for catching fish; nor fetch in firewood whenever it's demanded, nor scrape the wooden plates, nor wash a dish. 'Ban 'Ban, Cacaliban has a new master — get yourself a new man. Freedom, holiday! Holiday, freedom! Freedom, holiday, freedom!

O brave monster! lead the way.

Oh splendid monster! Lead the way.