CALIBAN Why, as I told thee, ’tis a custom with him
I’th’afternoon to sleep. There thou mayst brain him,
Having first seized his books, or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember
First to possess his books, for without them
He’s but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command. They all do hate him
As rootedly as I. Burn but his books
He has brave utensils (for so he calls them)
Which, when he has a house, he’ll deck withal. (3.2.87-97)
Caliban is impatient, he’s already told Stephano a lot of this, and he’s clearly imagined many ways already in which the sleeping Prospero, having his accustomed afternoon nap, could be killed. (Caliban is not worried about the questions of honour implicit in all those who-are-you-calling-a-liar accusations: he’s assuming that Prospero will be killed while fast asleep, not woken and challenged, for instance.) Brain him – presumably with a piece of wood – cruder even than knocking a nail into his head, his previous suggestion. Batter his skullwith a log, the firewood so central to Caliban’s enslavement. Paunch him with a stake: stab him in the guts with a stick, a stake, a crudely sharpened log. Or cut his throat, his wezand, with thy knife. There’s no suggestion that Caliban has a weapon of any kind, and he imagines improvising with the tools at hand – the logs – but he knows that Stephano will have a knife. But the most crucial thing: get the books, before you do anything. (So important that Caliban says it twice.) Without the books, Prospero is nothing, but a sot, an idiot, a drunkard, even, just like me. (Caliban is such a twisty mixture of sharp insight and ignorance.) Without his books, Prospero can’t command any of his spirits – and they all hate him as much as I do. (Does Ariel? It’s complicated.) (And it’s not entirely clear that Prospero’s power is entirely dependent upon his books: what about his staff and his magic garment?) Burn the books! don’t just take them. (Caliban cannot conceive of being able to use the books himself? Or anyone else? Or he thinks that’s the only possibility, given how dangerous and powerful they are?) And Prospero has brave utensils (for so he calls them) which, when he has a house, he’ll deck withal: these brave utensils could be alchemical equipment, mathematical and astronomical instruments? (But part of me, in these strange times, wants to imagine that Prospero has a hope chest and a World of Interiors mood board, a KitchenAid, some Le Creuset, and an extensive collection of box-fresh Italian majolica.)
