This page contains the original text of Act 3, Scene 2 of The Tempest . Shakespeare’s original The Tempest text is extremely long, so we’ve split the text into one Scene per page. All Acts and Scenes are listed on the The Tempest text page, or linked to from the bottom of this page.
ACT 3. SCENE 2. Another part of the island.
Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO
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.
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
Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes
are almost set in thy head.
Where should they be set else? he were a brave
monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.
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.
Your lieutenant, if you list; he’s no standard.
We’ll not run, Monsieur Monster.
Nor go neither; but you’ll lie like dogs and yet say
Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a
How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe.
I’ll not serve him; he’s not valiant.
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?
Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?
‘Lord’ quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural!
Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee.
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.
I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to
hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?
Marry, will I kneel and repeat it; I will stand,
and so shall Trinculo.
Enter ARIEL, invisible
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.
Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in’s tale, by
this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.
Why, I said nothing.
Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.
I say, 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 dare not,–
That’s most certain.
Thou shalt be lord of it and I’ll serve thee.
How now shall this be compassed?
Canst thou bring me to the party?
Yea, yea, my lord: I’ll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his bead.
Thou liest; thou canst not.
What a pied ninny’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.
Trinculo, run into no further danger:
interrupt the monster one word further, and,
by this hand, I’ll turn my mercy out o’ doors
and make a stock-fish of thee.
Why, what did I? I did nothing. I’ll go farther
Didst thou not say he lied?
Do I so? take thou that.
As you like this, give me the lie another time.
I did not give the lie. Out o’ your
wits and bearing too? A pox o’ your bottle!
this can sack and drinking do. A murrain on
your monster, and the devil take your fingers!
Ha, ha, ha!
Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, stand farther
Beat him enough: after a little time
I’ll beat him too.
Stand farther. Come, proceed.
Why, as I told thee, ’tis a custom with him,
I’ th’ afternoon to sleep: there 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 wezand 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 has brave utensils,–for so he calls them–
Which when he has a house, he’ll deck withal
And that most deeply to consider is
The beauty of his daughter; he himself
Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman,
But only Sycorax my dam and she;
But she as far surpasseth Sycorax
As great’st does least.
Is it so brave a lass?
Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant.
And bring thee forth brave brood.
Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I
will be king and queen–save our graces!–and
Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou
like the plot, Trinculo?
Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but,
while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head.
Within this half hour will he be asleep:
Wilt thou destroy him then?
Ay, on mine honour.
This will I tell my master.
Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure:
Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch
You taught me but while-ere?
At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any
reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.
Flout ’em and scout ’em
And scout ’em and flout ’em
Thought is free.
That’s not the tune.
Ariel plays the tune on a tabour and pipe
What is this same?
This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture
If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness:
if thou beest a devil, take’t as thou list.
O, forgive me my sins!
He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy upon us!
Art thou afeard?
No, monster, not I.
Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes 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 methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.
This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall
have my music for nothing.
When Prospero is destroyed.
That shall be by and by: I remember the story.
The sound is going away; let’s follow it, and
after do our work.
Lead, monster; we’ll follow. I would I could see
this tabourer; he lays it on.
Wilt come? I’ll follow, Stephano.
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