Yea, yea, my lord; I'll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.
ARIEL. Thou liest; thou canst not.
CALIBAN. 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.
STEPHANO. 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.
TRINCULO. Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther
off.
STEPHANO. Didst thou not say he lied?
ARIEL. Thou liest.
STEPHANO. Do I so? Take thou that. [Beats him] As you like
this, give me the lie another time.
TRINCULO. I did not give 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!
CALIBAN. Ha, ha, ha!
STEPHANO. Now, forward with your tale.-Prithee stand
further off.
CALIBAN. Beat him enough; after a little time, I'll beat
him too.
STEPHANO. Stand farther. Come, proceed.
CALIBAN. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him
I' th' afternoon to sleep; there thou mayst brain him,
Having first seiz'd his books; or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his wezand with thy knife.
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