CALIBAN

within. There's wood enough within. As wicked dew, as ere my mother brushed With Ravens feather from unwholesome Fen Drop on you both: A Southwest blow on ye, And blister you all over. I must eat my dinner: This Island's mine by Sycorax my mother, Which thou takest from me: when thou camest first Thou stroakst me, & made much of me: wouldst give me Water with berries in't: and teach me how To name the bigger Light, and how the less That burn by day, and night: and then I loved thee And showed thee all the qualities of the Isle, The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertile, Cursed be I that did so: All the Charms Of Sycorax : Toads, Beetles, Bats light on you: For I am all the Subjects that you have, Which first was min own King: and here you sty-me In this hard Rock, while you do keep from me The rest of the Island. O ho, o ho, would't had be done: Thou didst prevent me, I had peopel'd else This Isle with Calibans. You taught me Language, and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse: the red-plague rid you For learning me your language. No, pray thee. I must obey, his Art is of such power, It would control my Dams God Setebos, And make a vassal of him. All the infections that the Sun sucks up From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on Prosper fallen, and make him By ynch-meale a disease: his Spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with Vrchyn-shewes, pitch me in that mire, Nor led me Like a firebrand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid they; but For every trifle, are they set upon me, Sometime Like Apes, that more and chatter at me, And after bite me: then Like Hedgehogs, which Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I All wound with Adders, who with cloven tongues Do hiss me into madness: Lo, now Lo, Here comes a Spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly: I'll fallen flat, Perchance he will not mind me. Do not torment me: o. The Spirit torments me: o. Do not torment me prithee: I'll bring my wood home faster. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt a non, I know it by thy trembling: Now Prosper works upon thee. These be fine things, and if they be not spright's: that's a brave God, and bears Celestial liquour: I will kneel to him. I'll swear upon that Bottle, to be thy true sub iect, for the liquour is not earthly. Ha'st thou not dropped from heaven? I have seen thee in her: and I do adore thee: My Mistress showed me thee, and thy Dog, and thy Bush. I'll show thee every fertile ynch 'oth Island: and I will kiss thy foot: I prithee be my God. I'll kiss thy foot. I'll swear my self thy Subject. 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. In prithee let me bring thee where Crabs grow; and I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; show thee a Jays nest, and instruct thee how to snare the nimble Marmazet: I'll bring thee to clustering Philbirts, and sometime I'll get thee young Scamels from the Rock: Wilt thou go with me? No more dams I'll make for fish, Nor fetch in firing, at requiring, Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish, Ban' ban' Cacalyban Has a new Master, get a new Man. Freedom, high-day, high-day freedom, freedom high-day, freedom. How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe: I'll not serve him, he is not valiant. Lo, how he mocks me, wilt thou let him my Lord? Lo, lo again: bite him to death I prithee. I thank my noble Lord. Wilt thou be pleased to Harken once again to the suit I made to thee? As I told thee before, I am subject to a Tyrant, A Sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me Of the Island. Thou liest, thou jesting Monkey thou: I would my valiant Master would destroy thee. I do not lie. I say by Sorcery he God this Isle From me, he God it. If thy Greatness will Revenge it on him, (for I know thou darest) But this Thing dare not. Thou shalt be Lord of it, and I'll serve thee. Yea, yea my Lord, I'll yield him thee asleep, Where thou mayest knock a nail into his head. What a py'de Ninnie's this? Thou scurvy patch: I do beseech thy Greatness give him blows, And take his bottle from him: When that's gone, He shall drink nought but brine, for I'll not show him Where the quick Freshes are. Would, would, would. Beat him enough: after a little time I'll beat him too. Why, as I told thee, it's a custom with him In that afternoon to sleep: there thou mayest brain him, Having first seized his books: Or with a log Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his weazand with thy knife. Remember First to possess his Books; for without them He's but a Sot, as I am; nor hath not One Spirit to command: they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burn but his Books, He ha brave Utensils (for so he calls them) Which when he ha a house, he'll deck withal. And that most deeply to consider, is The beauty of his daughter: he himself Calls her a non-pareill: I never saw a woman But only Sycorax my Dam, and she; But she as far surpasses Sycorax, As greatest do's least. I Lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth brave brood. Within this half hour will he be asleep, Wilt thou destroy him then? Thou makest me merry: I am full of pleasure, Let us be jocund. Will you troule the Catch You taught me but whilere? That's not the tune. Art thou afeard? Be not afeard, the Isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not: Sometime a thousand twangling Instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again, and then in dreaming, The clouds me thought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked I cri'de to dream again. When Prospero is destroyed. Pray you tread softly, that the blind Mole may not hear a foot fallen: we now are near his Cell. Good my Lord, give me thy favour still, Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee too Shall hud wink this mischance: therefore speak softly, All's hushed as midnight yet. Prithee (my King) be quiet. Seest thou here This is the mouth of that Cell: no noise, and enter: Do that good mischief, which may make this Island Thine own for ever, and I thy Caliban For aye thy foot-licker. Let it alone thou fool, it is but trash. The dropsy drown this fool, what do you mean To dote thus on such luggage? let's alone And do the murder first: if he awake, From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches, Make us strange stuff. I will have none on't: we shall lose our time, And all be turned to Barnacles, or to Apes With foreheads villainous low. Oh Setebos, these be brave Spirits indeed: How fine my Master is? I am afraid He will chastise me. I shall be pinched to death. I that I will: and I'll be wise hereafter, And seek for grace: what a thrice double Ass Was I to take this drunkard for a God? And worship this dull fool?