Page:Tempest (1918) Yale.djvu/49

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Cal. 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 hedge-hogs, which

Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way and mount

Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I

All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues

Do hiss me into madness.—

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.

Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear

off any weather at all, and another storm brew-

ing; I hear it sing i' the 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

 3 By inch-meal: inch by inch

9 mow: make mouths

18 bear: ward

21 bombard: a large wine-skin

