_Steph._ Your grace shall find there's no love lost, for I will pledge you soundly. _Trinc._ Thou hast been a false rebel, but that's all one; pledge my grace faithfully.--Caliban, go to the butt, and tell me how it sounds. [_Exit_ CALIBAN.] Peer Stephano, dost thou love me? _Steph._ I love your grace, and all your princely family. _Trinc._ 'Tis no matter, if thou lov'st me; hang my family: Thou art my friend, pr'ythee tell me what thou think'st of my princess: _Steph._ I look on her, as on a very noble princess. _Trinc._ Noble! indeed she had a witch to her mother; and the witches are of great families in Lapland: but the devil was her father; and I have heard of the Monsieur De Villes in France: but look on her beauty,--is she a fit wife for Duke Trincalo? Mark her behaviour too,--she's tippling yonder with the serving-men. _Steph._ An't please your grace, she's somewhat homely, but that's no blemish in a princess. She is virtuous. _Trinc._ Umph! virtuous! I am loath to disparage her; but thou art my friend,--canst thou be close? _Steph._ As a stopt bottle, an't please your grace. _Enter_ CALIBAN _again with a bottle_. _Trinc._ Why then I'll tell thee,--I found her an hour ago under an elder-tree, upon a sweet bed of nettles, singing Tory Rory, and Rantum Scantum, with her own natural brother. _Steph._ O Jew! make love in her own tribe? _Trinc._ But 'tis no matter; to tell thee true, I married her to be a great man, and so forth: But make no words on't, for I care not who knows it, and so here's to thee again.--Give me the bottle, Caliban! did you knock the butt? How does it sound? _Calib._ It sounds as though it had a noise within. _Trinc._ I fear the butt begins to rattle in the throat, and is departing: give me the bottle. [_Drinks._ _Must._ A short life and a merry, I say. [STEPH. _whispers_ SYCORAX. _Syc._ But did he tell you so? _Steph._ He said you were as ugly as your mother, and that he married you only to get possession of the island. _Syc._ My mother's devils fetch him for't! _Steph._ And your father's too. Hem! skink about his grace's health again. O if you will but cast an eye of pity upon me-- _Syc._ I will cast two eyes of pity on thee; I love thee more than haws or blackberries. I have a hoard of wildings in the moss, my brother knows not of 'em; but I'll bring thee where they are. _Steph._ Trincalo was but my man, when time was. _Syc._ Wert thou his god, and didst thou give him liquor? _Steph._ I gave him brandy, and drunk sack myself: Wilt thou leave him, and thou shalt be my princess? _Syc._ If thou canst make me glad with this liquor. _Steph._ I'll warrant thee; we'll ride into the country where it grows. _Syc._ How wilt thou carry me thither? _Steph._ Upon a hackney-devil of thy mother's.