THE TEMPEST. Уильям Шекспир

Their pricks at my foot-fall; 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 flat;

       Perchance he will not mind me.

       TRINCULO. 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 bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.

       [Enter STEPHANO singing; a bottle in his hand]

       STEPHANO.

       I shall no more to sea, to sea,

       Here shall I die a-shore:—

       This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral:

       Well, here’s my comfort.

       [Drinks]

       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 wher-e’er she did itch.

       Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.

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

       [Drinks]

       CALIBAN.

       Do not torment me: O!

       STEPHANO. What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon us 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.

       CALIBAN.

       The spirit torments me: O!

       STEPHANO. 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.

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

       STEPHANO. 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.

       CALIBAN.

       Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon,

       I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.

       STEPHANO. 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.

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

       STEPHANO. 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.

       TRINCULO.

       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.

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

       STEPHANO. 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?

       TRINCULO. 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 ‘scaped!

       STEPHANO.

       Prithee, do not turn me about: my stomach is not constant.

       CALIBAN.

       [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.

       STEPHANO. 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 overboard, by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast ashore.

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

       STEPHANO.

       Here: swear then how thou escapedst.

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

       STEPHANO.

       [Passing the bottle] Here, kiss the book [gives

       TRINCULO a drink]. Though thou canst swim like a

       duck, thou art made like a goose.

       TRINCULO.

       O Stephano! hast any more of this?

       STEPHANO.

       The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by

       the seaside, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf!

       How does thine ague?

       CALIBAN.

       Hast thou not dropped from heaven?

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

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

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

       TRINCULO. 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!