Reading The Tempest — William Shakespeare

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Section 358

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Cal.

All the infections that the Sunne suckes vp

From Bogs, Fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and

make him

By ynch‑meale a disease: his Spirits heare me,

And yet I needes must curse. But they'll nor pinch,

Fright me with Vrchyn‑shewes, pitch me i'th mire,

Nor lead me like a fire‑brand, in the darke

Out of my way, vnlesse he bid'em; but

For euery trifle, are they set vpon me,

Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me,

And after bite me: then like Hedg‑hogs, which

Lye tumbling in my bare‑foote way, and mount

Their pricks at my foot‑fall: sometime am I

All wound with Adders, who with clouen tongues

Doe hisse me into madnesse: Lo, now Lo,

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