Stephano

Caliban
All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him
By inchmeal a disease!

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i’ th’ mire,
Nor lead me like a firebrand in the dark
Out of my way,
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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.
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Caliban
I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased
to harken once again to the suit I made to thee?
Stephano
Marry, will I. Kneel and repeat it. I will
stand, and so shall Trinculo.
 Enter Ariel, invisible.
Caliban, kneeling
As I told thee before,
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