His captors
do not fear him, and, which is more, they do not dislike him. They found
him lying out in a kind of no-man's land, drenched to the skin, so they
determine to keep him as a souvenir, and to take him home with them.
They nickname him, in friendly fashion, the monster, and the mooncalf,
as who should say Fritz, or the Boche. But their first care is to give
him a drink, and to make him swear allegiance upon the bottle. 'Where
the devil should he learn our language?' says the non-commissioned
officer, when the monster speaks. 'I will give him some relief, if it be
but for that.' The prisoner then offers to kiss the foot of his captor.
'I shall laugh myself to death', says the private, 'at this puppy-headed
monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him,
but that the poor monster's in drink.' When the private continues to
rail at the monster, his officer calls him to order. 'Trinculo, keep a
good tongue in your head: if you prove a mutineer, the next tree------
The poor monster's my subject, and he shall not suffer indignity.'
In this scene from _The Tempest_, everything is English except the
names.
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