All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i’ the mire,
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid ’em; but
For every trifle are they set upon me,
Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me,
And after bite me; then like hedgehogs which
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount
Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I
All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness.
May all the diseases that the sun draws up from swamps and marshes fall on Prospero and make him disintegrate bit by bit into a disease! His spirits hear me, and even so I have to curse. But they won't pinch me, frighten me with illusions of goblins, throw me in the mud, or lead me like a flaming stick through the darkness away from my path, unless Prospero commands them; yet for every small thing they torment me, sometimes like apes that grimace and chatter at me, and after bite me; then like hedgehogs which lie tumbling in my bare-footed path, and stick their spines at me when I step; sometimes I am completely wrapped with snakes, who with forked tongues hiss me into madness.
I hope all the gross diseases the sun pulls up from swamps and bogs land on Prospero and rot him away piece by piece into sickness! His spirits can hear me complaining, and yeah, I can't stop cursing. But they won't actually do anything that bad to me—no pinching, no scary ghost tricks, no shoving me in the mud, no dragging me through the darkness with a burning branch—nothing like that unless Prospero tells them to. But for literally everything, they mess with me: sometimes they act like crazy apes screaming and biting me, then they turn into hedgehogs lying in my way and sticking their spines into me when I walk past, or I'm completely covered in snakes hissing me into total madness.
wish prospero gets cursed wants diseases to destroy him slowly spirits torture me for tiny things apes bite, snakes hiss, hedgehogs prick drives me crazy
Lo, now, lo!
Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly. I’ll fall flat;
Perchance he will not mind me.
Look, look! Here comes one of his spirits to torment me for bringing the wood in slowly. I'll throw myself down flat; maybe he won't notice me.
Oh no! Here comes one of his spirits to torture me because I'm bringing the wood too slowly. I'm going to lie down flat and hope he doesn't see me.
oh no spirit coming tormenting me for slow wood im laying down hope he doesnt see me
Trinculo is the voice of reality — a professional fool who can see clearly what Stephano and Caliban refuse to: that this situation is absurd. Watch for how his asides become increasingly exasperated as the other two get more delusional.
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: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What have
we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish;
a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of not of the newest
Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and
had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a
piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast
there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame
beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg’d like a man,
and his fins like arms! Warm, o’ my troth! I do now let loose my
opinion, hold it no longer: this is no fish, but an islander, that hath
lately suffered by thunderbolt. [_Thunder._] Alas, the storm is come
again! My best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other
shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I
will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.
There's neither bush nor shrub here to protect from any weather at all, and another storm is building; I hear it whistling in the wind. That black cloud there, that huge one, looks like a heavy barrel that would spill its contents. If it thunders the way it did before, I don't know where to hide my head: that cloud will surely dump water by the bucketful. What do we have here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: it smells like a fish; a really old and fish-like smell; something like a dried salted fish. A strange fish! If I were in England now, as I once was, and had just this fish painted on a canvas, there wouldn't be a holiday fool there who wouldn't give a silver coin: this monster could make a man's fortune; any strange animal there makes a man rich. When they won't give a penny to help a lame beggar, they'll spend ten to see a dead foreigner. Legs like a man's, and fins like arms! It's warm, truly! Now I must speak my mind, I can't hold it any longer: this is no fish, but an island native who has recently been struck by lightning. [Thunder.] Oh no, the storm is coming again! My best plan is to crawl under his coat; there's no other shelter around here: hard times make you put up with strange situations. I'll hide here until the last of the storm passes.
There's nowhere to hide here—no bushes, no rocks, nothing—and another storm is brewing. I can hear it coming in the wind. That huge black cloud looks like a barrel about to spill its guts everywhere. If it thunders like last time, I'm completely lost—that cloud's gonna dump buckets of rain. What is this thing? A man or a fish? Dead or alive? It's a fish, definitely—smells exactly like one, that ancient fish smell, like rotted salt fish. A weird fish! Back in England, if I had a painting of this thing, I'd make money hand over fist. People will throw their money at anything strange—they'll spend more to see a dead foreign guy than they'll give to a homeless person. Look, it's got legs like a man and fins like arms! It's actually warm too. I gotta speak up: this isn't a fish at all, it's someone from the island who got hit by lightning. [Thunder.] Oh crap, the storm's coming back! I'm crawling under his clothes—there's nowhere else to go. Desperate times force you to do desperate things.
no shelter storm coming what is this thing fish? man? dead? smells like old fish it's warm though it's an islander hit by lightning here comes the storm again gotta hide under his coat
Stephano is the comic villain of the play — a drunk who discovers that authority comes naturally when everyone around you is more desperate than you are. Watch for how quickly he adopts the language of kingship once he has a subject.
_I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die ashore—_
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral.
Well, here’s my comfort.
I shall no more go to sea, to sea, here shall I die on shore— This is a terrible song to sing at someone's funeral. Well, here's what keeps me going.
I'm not going back out to sea, I'm dying on dry land instead— That's honestly the worst song you could sing at a funeral. But you know what? This bottle right here keeps me alive.
no more sea for me dying on shore worst funeral song ever but this bottle saves me
The gunner, and his mate,
Lov’d Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
But none of us car’d for Kate:
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor “Go hang!”
She lov’d not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
Yet a tailor might scratch her where’er she did itch.
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang._
This is a scurvy tune too: but here’s my comfort.
The gunner and his mate loved Mall, Meg, Marian, and Margery, but none of us cared for Kate. She had a sharp tongue and would tell sailors 'Go hang yourself!' She didn't like the smell of tar and pitch, yet a tailor could scratch her whenever she itched. Back to sea, boys, and let her go hang.
The gunner and his buddy loved Mall, Meg, Marian, and Margery, but none of us wanted Kate. She had a smart mouth and would tell sailors to get lost. She hated the smell of tar and pitch, but she'd let a tailor get close to her whenever she wanted. Back to sea, boys, forget about her!
gunner & his mate liked lots of girls not kate tho she was mean to sailors back to sea boys
Do not torment me: O!
Don't torture me: please!
Stop torturing me, please!
stop torturing me
What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon ’s with
savages and men of Ind? Ha? I have not scap’d drowning, to be afeard
now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever
went on four legs cannot make him give ground; and it shall be said so
again, while Stephano breathes at’ nostrils.
What's going on? Do we have demons here? Are you playing tricks on me with savages and foreign men? What? I haven't escaped drowning just to be afraid now of your four legs; because it has been said, A man as proper as ever walked on four legs cannot make him back down; and it will be said again, while I, Stephano, am still breathing.
What's happening here? Are there devils around? Are you trying to trick me with wild people and foreigners? Come on, I didn't survive drowning just to be scared of your four legs. People always say that even the finest man on four legs can't scare someone like me, and that's still true as long as I'm breathing.
what's going on devils here? trying to scare me? i didn't survive drowning for this i don't fear your four legs
The spirit torments me: O!
A spirit is tormenting me: help!
A ghost is hurting me!
spirit's torturing me
This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who hath got, as I
take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will
give him some relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him and
keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he’s a present for any
emperor that ever trod on neat’s-leather.
This is some monster from the island with four legs, who has, as I understand it, a fever. Where on earth did it learn our language? I will give it some help, if only for that reason. If I can cure it and keep it under control, and get to Naples with it, it's a gift for any emperor that ever lived.
This is some island creature with four legs that's got a fever or something. Where the heck did it pick up our language? That alone makes it worth helping. If I can get it better and keep it tame and drag it to Naples, any king in the world would want it as a present.
four-legged island monster has a fever speaks our language somehow if i tame it and get it to naples i could sell it to any emperor
Do not torment me, prithee; I’ll bring my wood home faster.
Stop torturing me, I beg you; I'll gather wood faster.
Please stop hurting me; I'll get the wood gathered way faster.
stop torturing me i'll gather wood faster
He’s in his fit now, and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste
of my bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to
remove his fit. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not
take too much for him. He shall pay for him that hath him, and that
soundly.
He's having a fit right now, and isn't speaking sensibly. He'll have some of my wine: if he's never drunk wine before, it will almost certainly fix his fit. If I can cure him and keep him tame, I won't ask too high a price for him. Whoever owns him will pay for him, and well.
He's in a fit right now and not making sense. Let me give him some of my wine—if he's never had wine before, it'll probably cure whatever's wrong with him. If I can get him better and keep him tame, I'm not gonna ask for much: whoever buys him will pay plenty anyway.
he's having a fit wine will fix him if i tame him i can sell him for good money
Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon,
I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.
You're only hurting me a little now; you'll do worse soon, I know it from your shaking: now Prospero is working his magic on you.
You're barely hurting me now, but you'll get worse soon. I can tell by how you're shaking—Prospero's got some magic control over you.
you're barely hurting me now but you'll get worse prospero's controlling you with magic
When Caliban sings 'No more dams I'll make for fish' it's genuinely one of the most joyful moments in the play — and one of the most heartbreaking. He's celebrating freedom from Prospero's servitude by voluntarily entering a new servitude to someone demonstrably worse. The song is real freedom-music: the rhythm is liberated, the image is concrete (fish-traps, firewood, dirty plates — actual labor he hates), and the emotion is completely authentic. Shakespeare is doing something precise here: the desire for freedom is real, the object of that freedom is false. Caliban can't distinguish between 'relief from Prospero' and 'actual freedom.' He's been trained to serve. The tragedy isn't that he's too stupid to see through Stephano — it's that the desire for any master who won't torture him is so overwhelming that almost anyone would do.
Come on your ways. Open your mouth; here is that which will give
language to you, cat. Open your mouth. This will shake your shaking, I
can tell you, and that soundly. [_gives Caliban a drink_] You cannot
tell who’s your friend: open your chaps again.
Come on, let's go. Open your mouth; here's something that will make you able to speak properly, friend. Open your mouth. This will stop your shaking, I can promise you, and good. [He gives Caliban a drink.] You can't tell who your real friend is: open your jaws again.
Come on, let's move. Open up; here's something that'll get you talking right, buddy. Open your mouth. This'll fix your shaking, trust me, and proper. [He gives Caliban a drink.] You can't figure out who actually cares about you—open up again.
open your mouth this'll make you talk and stop your shaking open up again
I should know that voice: it should be—but he is drowned; and these are
devils. O, defend me!
I recognize that voice: it should be—but he's drowned; and these must be demons. Please, protect me!
I know that voice—it should be him—but he drowned, so these have to be evil spirits. Help me!
i know that voice but he drowned these are demons help me
Four legs and two voices; a most delicate monster! His forward voice
now is to speak well of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul
speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him,
I will help his ague. Come. Amen! I will pour some in thy other mouth.
Four legs and two voices; a most unusual creature! One voice speaks kindly of his friend; the other voice utters foul language and insults. If all the wine in my bottle will cure him, I will help his fever. Come. So be it! I will pour some in your other mouth.
Four legs and two voices—now that's a strange monster! One voice praises its friend, the other one says mean, nasty things. If all my wine can cure his fever, I'm gonna help him. Here goes nothing! I'm pouring some in that other mouth.
four legs two voices weirdest creature ever one voice nice one voice mean i'll pour wine in both mouths
Stephano!
Stephano!
Stephano!
stephano!
Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy! mercy!
This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I
have no long spoon.
Does your other mouth call me? I'm terrified! This is a demon, not a monster: I'm leaving; I have no special protection against demons.
Is that other mouth calling me? I'm outta here! This is a real demon, not just some weird creature. I'm not equipped to handle this.
is that mouth calling me this is a demon not a monster i'm leaving i can't handle this
Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for I am
Trinculo—be not afeared—thy good friend Trinculo.
Stephano! If you are really Stephano, touch me and speak to me; because I am Trinculo—don't be scared—your good friend Trinculo.
Stephano! If you're actually Stephano, touch me and say something, because I'm Trinculo—don't freak out—your buddy Trinculo.
stephano it's me trinculo your friend don't be scared
If thou beest Trinculo, come forth. I’ll pull thee by the lesser legs:
if any be Trinculo’s legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo
indeed! How cam’st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? Can he vent
Trinculos?
If you're really Trinculo, come out. I'll grab you by your lower legs: if those are Trinculo's legs, these must be them. You're definitely Trinculo for real! How did you end up hiding under this weird creature? Can it produce Trinculos?
If you're actually Trinculo, show yourself. I'm gonna grab you by the legs—if these legs are Trinculo's, then it's definitely you! How in the world did you get stuck under this moon-calf thing? Can it make Trinculos?
pull the legs it's trinculo how'd he get under the moon-calf can it produce trinculo copies
I took him to be kill’d with a thunderstroke. But art thou not drown’d,
Stephano? I hope now thou are not drown’d. Is the storm overblown? I
hid me under the dead moon-calf’s gaberdine for fear of the storm. And
art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans scap’d!
I thought you were killed by a lightning strike. But are you not drowned, Stephano? I'm glad you're not drowned now. Is the storm over? I hid under the dead creature's coat because I was afraid of the storm. And you're alive, Stephano? Oh Stephano, two Neapolitans made it!
I thought lightning had killed you. But you're not drowned, Stephano? Thank god you're okay. Is the storm done? I hid under that dead thing's coat to stay safe. And you survived? Oh man, Stephano, both of us from Naples made it!
thought lightning got you you're not drowned storm's over two of us survived from naples
Prithee, do not turn me about. My stomach is not constant.
Please don't spin me around. My stomach is unsettled.
Please stop turning me around. I'm feeling sick.
don't spin me around i feel sick
[_Aside._] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites.
That’s a brave god, and bears celestial liquor.
I will kneel to him.
These are wonderful things, if they're not spirits. That's an impressive god, and he's carrying heavenly alcohol. I'm going to kneel to him.
These are amazing things, if they're not spirits or something. That's an impressive god, and he's got divine alcohol. I'm definitely going to worship him.
these are amazing if they're not spirits that's an impressive god with divine alcohol i'll kneel to him
How didst thou scape? How cam’st thou hither? Swear by this bottle how
thou cam’st hither—I escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sailors
heaved o’erboard, by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree
with mine own hands, since I was cast ashore.
How did you escape? How did you get here? Swear by this bottle how you got here—I escaped by holding onto a barrel of sack wine that the sailors threw overboard, by this bottle! which I made from tree bark with my own hands, after I was washed up on shore.
How'd you get out? How'd you get here? Swear on this bottle how you made it—I survived by floating on a barrel of sack that the sailors threw out. By this bottle! I made it myself from tree bark after I washed up on the beach.
how'd you escape swear on this bottle i floated on a barrel made this bottle from tree bark
I’ll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject, for the liquor is
not earthly.
I'll swear on that bottle to be your loyal follower, because the drink is not from this world.
I'm swearing on that bottle to serve you, because that drink is definitely not earthly.
i'll swear on this bottle to be your loyal follower this drink is heavenly
Here. Swear then how thou escapedst.
Go ahead. Swear then to tell me how you escaped.
All right. Now swear and tell me how you got away.
swear now tell me how you escaped
Swum ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim like a duck, I’ll be sworn.
Swam to shore, friend, like a duck: I can swim like a duck, I'll swear to it.
Swam to shore, buddy, just like a duck does. I'm a really good swimmer, I promise.
swam to shore like a duck i'm that good a swimmer
Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made
like a goose.
Here, kiss the document. Even though you can swim like a duck, you're shaped like a goose.
All right, kiss the bottle. Sure, you swim like a duck, but you look built like a goose.
kiss the bottle you swim like a duck look built like a goose
O Stephano, hast any more of this?
Oh Stephano, do you have any more of this?
Stephano, you got any more of this stuff?
stephano you got more
The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by th’ seaside, where my
wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! How does thine ague?
The whole barrel, friend: my storage is in a cave by the seaside, where my wine is hidden. How's it going, creature! How's your fever doing?
The whole barrel, man. My cellar's in a cave by the beach where I stashed my wine. So, moon-calf, how's that fever feeling?
i got the whole barrel stored by the beach how's your fever
Hast thou not dropped from heaven?
Did you not fall down from heaven?
You didn't come from heaven?
you came from heaven
Trinculo's first instinct when he encounters Caliban is commercial: 'There would not be a man in England who would take this fish for a present; when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.' This is not just a joke. The Elizabethan and Jacobean entertainment economy included exhibitions of 'exotic' people and animals brought back from voyages of exploration. Indigenous people from the Americas, Africa, and Asia were displayed in London for paying audiences — sometimes voluntarily, usually not. Trinculo's instinct to monetize Caliban is a completely accurate picture of what would have happened to a creature like Caliban in Jacobean London. Shakespeare is reflecting his own audience back at them with uncomfortable precision.
Out o’ the moon, I do assure thee: I was the Man in the Moon, when time
was.
Out of the moon, I promise you: I was the Man in the Moon, back in the day.
I came from the moon, I'm telling you. I used to be the Man in the Moon.
i came from the moon i was the man in the moon
I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee. My mistress showed me
thee, and thy dog, and thy bush.
I have seen you in it, and I do worship you. My mistress showed me you, and your dog, and your bundle of sticks.
I've seen you in the moon, and I worship you. My mistress showed me you up there with your dog and your bundle of branches.
i see you in the moon my mistress showed me you with your dog
Come, swear to that. Kiss the book. I will furnish it anon with new
contents. Swear.
Come on, swear to that. Kiss the document. I will fill it with new content soon. Swear.
Come on, swear to it. Kiss the bottle. I'll put more stuff in it later. Swear.
swear to it kiss the bottle i'll refill it
By this good light, this is a very shallow monster. I afeard of him? A
very weak monster. The Man i’ the Moon! A most poor credulous monster!
Well drawn, monster, in good sooth!
By this light, this is a very simple monster. Am I afraid of him? A very weak monster. The Man in the Moon! A most foolish, gullible monster! Well done, monster, honestly!
By the light, this is one stupid monster. I'm afraid of him? He's pathetic. The Man in the Moon! This monster is so dumb and believes everything. Nice job with that one, monster.
this monster's stupid not scary at all believes the man in the moon story weak and gullible
I’ll show thee every fertile inch o’ the island; and I will kiss thy
foot. I prithee, be my god.
I'll show you every fertile part of the island; and I will kiss your foot. I beg you, be my god.
I'll show you every good part of the island, and I'll kiss your foot. Please, be my god.
i'll show you the whole island kiss your foot be my god
By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster. When ’s god’s
asleep, he’ll rob his bottle.
By this light, a most traitorous and drunk monster. When his god is asleep, he'll steal his bottle.
By the light, that's one treacherous, drunken monster. When his new god falls asleep, he'll rob him blind.
traitorous drunk monster when stephano sleeps he'll steal the bottle
I’ll kiss thy foot. I’ll swear myself thy subject.
I'll kiss your foot. I'll make myself your subject.
I'll kiss your foot. I'm your follower now.
i'll kiss your foot i'm your subject
Come on, then; down, and swear.
Go ahead then; get down on your knees and make your oath.
All right then; get down on your knees and swear.
kneel and swear
I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster. A most
scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him,—
I'll laugh until I die at this foolish monster. A really contemptible monster! I could find it in myself to beat him,—
I'm gonna die laughing at this idiot monster. Such a pathetic creature! I could really go for punching him—
dying laughing at this fool want to beat him up
Come, kiss.
Come, kiss.
Come, kiss.
come, kiss.
But that the poor monster’s in drink. An abominable monster!
Except that the poor monster is drunk. A completely disgusting monster!
Except the poor guy's drunk, so I can't. What a gross monster!
monster's drunk can't hit him disgusting creature
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.
I'll show you the best fresh water springs; I'll pick berries for you; I'll fish for you, and get enough wood for you. A curse on the tyrant I serve! I won't carry him firewood anymore, but I'll follow you, You wonderful man.
I'll show you the best springs for fresh water; I'll pick berries for you; I'll go fishing for you and gather wood for you. To hell with the tyrant I've been serving! I'm done carrying wood for him, I'm following you instead, You amazing man.
i'll show you springs pick berries fish gather wood screw prospero i'm done serving him following you instead
A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard!
A completely ridiculous monster, to make something special out of a drunk man!
What a ridiculous monster, treating a drunk guy like he's some kind of god!
ridiculous monster treat a drunk guy like a god
I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;
Show thee a jay’s nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmoset; I’ll bring thee
To clustering filberts, and sometimes I’ll get thee
Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?
I beg you, let me bring you to where wild apples grow; And I with my long fingernails will dig for you ground nuts; Show you a bird's nest, and teach you how To trap the quick little monkey; I'll take you To clustered nuts, and sometimes I'll get for you Young rock-dwelling creatures. Will you come with me?
Please, let me take you where wild apples grow; I'll dig up ground nuts with my long nails for you; Show you where the birds nest, and teach you how To catch those fast little monkeys; I'll bring you To bunch of trees with nuts, and sometimes I can get you Young creatures from the rocks. Will you go with me?
i'll show you everything wild apples ground nuts bird nests how to trap animals come with me
I prithee now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the
King and all our company else being drowned, we will inherit here.
Here, bear my bottle. Fellow Trinculo, we’ll fill him by and by again.
Please now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, since the King and everyone else in our group has drowned, we will own this place. Here, carry my bottle. Friend Trinculo, we'll fill it up again soon.
Come on, lead the way and stop talking. Trinculo, the King and all our buddies are dead, so we're gonna run this place. Here, hold my bottle. Trinculo, we'll top it off in a bit.
lead the way king's drowned we own this place now carry my bottle
[_Sings drunkenly._] _Farewell, master; farewell, farewell!_
Goodbye, master—goodbye, goodbye!
See you later, boss—later, later!
goodbye master goodbye farewell
A howling monster, a drunken monster.
A screaming monster, a drunken monster.
A howling, drunk monster.
screaming drunk monster
_No more dams I’ll make for fish;
Nor fetch in firing
At requiring,
Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish;
’Ban ’Ban, Cacaliban,
Has a new master—Get a new man._
Freedom, high-day! high-day, freedom! freedom,
high-day, freedom!
No more dams will I make for fish; I won't fetch firewood at your command, I won't scrape the wooden serving plates or wash dishes anymore; Caliban is his name, but he has a new master now—get a new servant. Freedom, hooray! Hooray, freedom! Freedom, hooray, freedom!
I'm done making fish traps; no more hauling wood when you tell me to, no more scraping plates or doing the dishes; my name's Caliban, but I've got a new boss now—go find somebody else. Freedom, yeah! Freedom! I'm free!
no more fish traps no more wood no more dishes but i got a new master freedom
O brave monster! lead the way.
What a wonderful monster! lead the way.
That's an awesome monster! Lead on.
great monster lead the way
The Reckoning
This is the play's comic relief, arriving right after a near-murder — and it's funnier and sadder in equal measure. Caliban's transfer of servitude from Prospero to a drunken butler is played for laughs, but Shakespeare makes sure we feel the pathos: here is someone so desperate for a master who won't torment him that he'll worship a bottle of wine. Trinculo's commentary (this is a ridiculous monster) runs alongside Caliban's genuine wonder, and the contrast is what makes the scene sting.
If this happened today…
A traumatized employee leaves an abusive tech company and immediately signs up to be the 'first follower' of a guy he met at a bar who says he's going to disrupt everything. The guy is clearly drunk and probably a fraud. The employee doesn't care — he's offering to show the drunk guy all the trade secrets from his old company if only the new guy will be a halfway decent boss.