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Trinculo.

Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at which my nose is in great indignation.

Stephano.

So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take a displeasure against you, look you,—

Trinculo.

Thou wert but a lost monster.

Caliban.

Good my lord, give me thy favour still.
Be patient, for the prize I ’ll bring thee to
Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly.
All’s hush’d as midnight yet.

Trinculo.

Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,—

Stephano.

There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, monster, but an infinite loss.

Trinculo.

That ’s more to me than my wetting: yet this is your harmless fairy, monster.

Stephano.

I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er ears for my labour.

Caliban.

Prithee, my king, be quiet. See’st thou here,
This is the mouth o’ the cell: no noise, and enter.