Fer.
There be some sports are painful; and their labour
Delight in them sets ^note off: some kinds of baseness

Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters
Point to rich ends: This my mean task would be
As heavy to me, as 'tis odious; but
The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is
Ten times more gentle, than her father's crabbed;
And he's compos'd of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,
Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress
Weeps, when she sees me work; and says, such baseness
Had ne'er like executor. I forget:
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours;
Most busy-less ^note, ^note when I do it.14Q0017 Enter Miranda; and Prospero, at a Distance, unseen.

Mir.
Alas, now! pray you,
Work not so hard: I would, the lightning had
Burnt up those logs that ^note you're enjoin'd to pile!
Pray, set it down, and rest you: when this burns,
'Twill weep for having weary'd you: My father
Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;
He's safe for these three hours.

Fer.
O most dear mistress,
The sun will set before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.

Mir.
If you'll sit down,
I'll bear your logs the while: Pray, give me that;
I'll carry't to the pile.

Fer.
No, precious creature;
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.

Mir.
It would become me
As well as it does you: and I should do it
With much more ease; for my good will is to it,
And yours it is against.

&clquo;Pro.
&clquo;Poor worm, thou art infected;&crquo;
&clquo;This visitation shews it.&crquo;

Mir.
You look wearily.

Fer.
No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me,
When you are by at night. I do beseech you,
(Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers)
What is you name? ^note

Mir.
Miranda:—O my father,
I have broke your hest to say so.

Fer.
Admir'd Miranda!
Indeed, the top of admiration; worth
What ^note dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues
Have I lik'd several women; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd,
And put it to the foil: But you, o you,
So perfect, and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best.

Mir.
I do not know
One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, my own; nor have I seen
More that I may call men, than you, good friend,
And my dear father: how features are abroad,
I am skill-less of; but, by my modesty,
(The jewel in my dower) I would not wish

Any companion in the world but you;
Nor can imagination form a shape,
Besides yourself, to like of: But I prattle
Something too wildly, and my father's precepts
I therein do forget.

Fer.
I am, in my condition,
A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;
(I would not so!) and would no more endure
This wooden slavery, than I would suffer ^note
The flesh-fly blow my mouth: Hear my soul speak;
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service; there resides,
To make me slave to it; and, for your sake,
Am I this patient log-man.

Mir.
Do you love me?

Fer.
O heaven, o earth, bear witness to this sound,
And crown what I profess with kind event,
If I speak true; if hollowly, invert
What best is boded me, to mischief! I,
Beyond all limit of what else i' the world,
Do love, prize, honour you.

Mir.
I am a fool,
To weep at what I am glad of.

&clquo;Pro.
&clquo;Fair encounter&crquo;
&clquo;Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace&crquo;
&clquo;On that which breeds between them!&crquo;

Fer.
Wherefore weep you?

Mir.
At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer
What I desire to give; and much less take
What I shall dye to want: But this is trifling;
And all the more it seeks to hide itself,
The bigger bulk it shews. Hence, bashful cunning;

And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!
I am your wife, if you will marry me;
If not, I'll dye your maid: to be your fellow
You may deny me; but I'll be your servant,
Whether you will or no.

Fer.
My mistress, dearest,
And I thus humble ever.

Mir.
My husband then?

Fer.
Ay, with a heart as willing ^note
As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand.

Mir.
And mine, with my heart in't: And now, farewel,
'Till half an hour hence.

Fer.
A thousand thousand! [Exeunt Fer. and Mir. severally.

Pro.
So glad of this as they, I cannot be,
Who are surpriz'd with all; but my rejoicing ^note
At nothing can be more. I'll to my book;
For yet, ere supper-time, must I perform
Much business appertaining. [Exit.

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