by sorcery he got this isle;
From me he got it. If thy Greatness will
Revenge it on him,--for, I know, thou darest,
But this thing[425-10] dare not,--

_Steph._ That's most certain.

_Cal._ Thou shalt be lord of it, and I will serve thee.

_Steph._ How now shall this be compass'd?
Canst thou bring me to the party?

_Cal._ Yea, yea, my lord; I'll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.

_Ari._ Thou liest; thou canst not.

_Cal._ What a pied ninny's[426-11] this!--Thou scurvy patch![426-12]--
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[426-13] are.

_Steph._ Trinculo, run into no further danger: interrupt the monster one
word further, and, by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out of doors, and
make a stock-fish[426-14] of thee.

_Trin._ Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go further off.

_Steph._ Didst thou not say he lied?

_Ari._ Thou liest.

_Steph._ Do I so? take thou that. [_Strikes him._] As you like this,
give me the lie another time.

_Trin._ I did not give thee the lie. Out o' your wits and hearing too? A
pox o' your bottle! this can sack and drinking do. A murrain on your
monster, and the Devil take your fingers!

_Cal._ Ha, ha, ha!

_Steph._ Now, forward with your tale.--Pr'ythee stand further
off.[427-15]

_Cal._ Beat him enough: after a little time, I'll beat him too.

_Steph._ Stand further.--Come, proceed.

_Cal._ Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him
I' the afternoon to sleep; then thou mayst brain him,
Having first seized his books; or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his weazand[427-16] with thy knife. Remember
First to possess his books; for without them
He's but a sot,[427-17] as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command: they all do hate him
As rootedly as I. Burn but his books.
He has brave[427-18] utensils,--for so he calls them,--
Which, when he has a house, he'll deck't withal:
And that most deeply to consider is
The beauty of his daughter; he himself
Calls her a nonpareil: I ne'er saw woman,
But only Sycorax my dam and she;
But she as far surpasseth Sycorax
As great'st does least.

_Steph._ Is it so brave a lass?

_Cal._ Ay, lord.