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Caliban.
Art thou afeard?
Stephano.
No, monster, not I.
Caliban.
Be not afeard: the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs that give delight, and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,
That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that, when I wak'd,
I cried to dream again.
Stephano.
This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing.
Caliban.
When Prospero is destroy'd.