_Anto._ I fear some other horrid apparition. Give us kind keepers, heaven, I beseech thee! _Gonz._ 'Tis chearful music this, unlike the first. ARIEL _and_ MILCHA _invisible, sing_. _Dry those eyes which are o'erflowing, All your storms are overblowing: While you in this isle are biding, You shall feast without providing: Every dainty you can think of, Every wine which you would drink of, Shall be yours; all want shall shun you, Ceres' blessing so is on you._ _Alon._ This voice speaks comfort to us. _Anto._ Would 'twere come; There is no music in a song to me, My stomach being empty. _Gonz._ O for a heavenly vision of boiled, Baked, and roasted! [_Dance of fantastic Spirits; after the dance, in by two a table furnished with meat and fruit is brought Spirits._ _Anto._ My lord, the duke, see yonder! A table, as I live, set out and furnished With all varieties of meats and fruits. _Alon._ 'Tis so indeed; but who dares taste this feast, Which fiends provide, to poison us? _Gonz._ Why that dare I; if the black gentleman Be so ill natured, he may do his pleasure. _Anto._ 'Tis certain we must either eat or famish: I will encounter it, and feed. _Alon._ If both resolve, I will adventure too. _Gonz._ The devil may fright me, yet he shall not starve me. [_Two Spirits descend, and fly away with the table._ _Alon._ Heaven! behold, it is as you suspected: 'Tis vanished. Shall we be always haunted with these fiends? _Anto._ Here we shall wander till we famish. _Gonz._ Certainly one of you was so wicked as to say grace; this comes on it, when men will be godly out of season. _Anto._ Yonder's another table, let's try that. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ TRINCALO _and_ CALIBAN. _Trinc._ Brother monster, welcome to my private palace. But where's thy sister? is she so brave a lass? _Calib._ In all this isle there are but two more, the daughters of the tyrant Prospero; and she is bigger than them both. O, here she comes! now thou mayest judge thyself, my lord. _Enter_ SYCORAX. _Trinc._ She's monstrous fair indeed. Is this to be my spouse? Well, she's heir of all this isle (for I will geld monster). The Trincalos, like other wise men, have anciently used to marry for estate, more than for beauty. _Syc._ I pr'ythee let me have the gay thing about thy neck, and that which dangles at thy wrist. [Sycorax _points to his whistle and his bottle_. _Trinc._ My dear blubber-lips! this--observe, my chuck--is a badge of my sea-office; my fair fuss, thou dost not know it. _Syc._ No, my dread lord. _Trinc._ It shall be a whistle for our first babe, and when the next shipwreck puts me again to swimming, I'll dive to get a coral to it. _Syc._ I'll be thy pretty child, and wear it first.