His dam held that the Quiet made all things Which Setebos vexed only: 'holds not so. Who made them weak, meant weakness He might vex. Had He meant other, while His hand was in, Why not make horny eyes no thorn could prick, Or plate my scalp with bone against the snow, Or overscale my flesh 'neath joint and joint, Like an orc's armour? Ay,--so spoil His sport! (ll. 170-177.) (2) Again, and later in the poem, he treats Setebos--or Evil--not merely as a negative aspect of good, but as that which may in time become transmuted into good. He may Surprise even the Quiet's self Some strange day--or, suppose, grow into it As grubs grow butterflies. (ll. 246-248.) (3) One further alternative suggests itself--and this yet more probable--that evil may finally be overcome of good, or may of itself become inoperative. That some strange day, will either the Quiet catch And conquer Setebos, or likelier He Decrepit may doze, doze, as good as die. (ll. 281-283.) Two or three less obvious thoughts may not be omitted in any consideration of a poem containing much which is characteristic of Browning's work wherever found. From the theology of Caliban inevitably results _the doctrine of sacrifice_, though in its lowest, crudest form. Since that condition most likely to excite the wrath of Setebos, as we have already had occasion to notice, is the happiness of his creations, Caliban would, therefore, present himself as a creature full of misery, moaning even in the sun; only in secret rejoicing that he is making Setebos his dupe. Should he be discovered in his deception, in order to avoid the greater evil attendant on the expression of the god's wrath, he would of his own will submit to the lesser ill; Cut a finger off, Or of my three kid yearlings burn the best, Or let the toothsome apples rot on tree, Or push my tame beast for the orc to taste. (ll. 271-274.) A sacrifice the outcome of fear. Spare me, and I will do all to appease thy wrath. Into the midst of the meditations of Caliban breaks the thunder-storm, and what he has depicted as a possible event of the future has become a present danger. White blaze, A tree's head snaps--and there, there, there, there, there, His thunder follows! Fool to gibe at Him! (ll. 289-291.) The prospective vows are now made in earnest. 'Lieth flat and loveth Setebos! 'Maketh his teeth meet through his upper lip, Will let those quails fly, will not eat this mouth One little mess of whelks, so he may 'scape. (ll. 292-295.)