Act 3 — Scene I.—Before Prospero’s Cell.

Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log.

There be some sports are painful, and their labour Delight in them sets off:418-1 some kinds of baseness418-2 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:418-3 O, she is Ten times more gentle than her father’s crabbed, And he’s composed 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 never like executor. I forget: But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labour; Most busy when I do it least.419-4

Enter Miranda; and Prospero behind.

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

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

Mira. If you’ll sit down, I’ll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that; I’ll carry’t to the pile.

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

Mira. 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.

Pros. [Aside.] Poor worm, thou art infected! This visitation shows it.

Mira. You look wearily.

Ferd. 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 your name?

Mira. Miranda—O my father, I’ve broke your best to say so!

Ferd. Admired Miranda! Indeed the top of admiration; worth What’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady I’ve eyed 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 liked several women; never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil:420-5 but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature’s best!

Mira. I do not know One of my sex; no woman’s face remember, Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen More that I may call men, than you, good friend, And my dear father: how features are abroad, I’m skilless 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.

PRAY YOU, WORK NOT SO HARD

Ferd. I am, in my condition, A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king,— I would not so!420-6—and would no more endure This wooden slavery than to suffer The flesh-fly blow422-7 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.

Mira. Do you love me?

Ferd. O Heaven, O Earth, bear witness to this sound, And crown what I profess with kind event, If I speak true! if hollowly,422-8 invert What best is boded me to mischief! I, Beyond all limit of what else422-9 i’ the world, Do love, prize, honour you.

Mira. I am a fool To weep at what I’m glad of.

Pros. [Aside.] Fair encounter Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between them!

Ferd. Wherefore weep you?

Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give; and much less take What I shall die to want.422-10 But this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife, if you will marry me; If not, I’ll die your maid: to be your fellow423-11 You may deny me; but I’ll be your servant, Whether you will or no.

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

Mira. My husband, then?

Ferd. Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage423-12 e’er of freedom: here’s my hand.

Mira. And mine, with my heart in’t: and now farewell Till half an hour hence.

Ferd. A thousand thousand!423-13

[Exeunt Ferdinand and Miranda.

Pros. So glad of this as they, I cannot be, Who am surprised withal;423-14 but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I’ll to my book; For yet, ere supper-time, must I perform Much business appertaining. [Exit.