ACT III.

SCENE I.-Before Prospero's cell. Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log.

Fer. There be some sports are painful; but their labour

Delight in them sets 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 la

bours;

Most busy-less, when I do it.

Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a distance.

Mira.

Alas, now! pray you,

Work not so hard: I would, the lightning had Burnt up those logs, that you are 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.

Fer.

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 it to the pile.

Fer.

No, precious creature:

I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
VOL. I.

C

Cal. I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck

thee berries;

I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.

A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!

I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wondrous man.

Trin. A most ridiculous monster; to make a wonder of a poor drunkard.

Cal. I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs

grow;

And I, with my long nails, will dig thee pig-nuts;
Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee
To clust'ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee
Young sea-mells1 from the rock. Wilt thou go with

me?

Ste. I pr'ythee now, lead the way, without any more talking.-Trinculo, the king and all our company else being drowned, we will inherit here.Here; bear my bottle: Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again.

Cal. Farewell master; farewell, farewell.

[Sings drunkenly.

Trin. A howling monster; a drunken monster.

Cal.

No more dams I'll make for fish;
Nor fetch in firing

At requiring,

Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish;

'Ban, 'Ban, Ca-Caliban,

Has a new master-Get a new man.

Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom: freedom,

hey-day, freedom!

Ste. O brave monster! lead the away. [Exeunt.

(1) Sea-gulls.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-Before Prospero's cell. Enter Fer

dinand, bearing a log.

Fer. There be some sports are painful; but their labour

Delight in them sets 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 la

bours;

Most busy-less, when I do it.

Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a distance.

Mira.

Alas, now! pray you,

Work not so hard: I would, the lightning had Burnt up those logs, that you are 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.

Fer.

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 it to the pile.

Fer.

No, precious creature:

I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
VOL. I.

C

Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.
Mira.

As well as it does you
With much more ease;
And yours against.
Pro.

It would become me

and I should do it
for my good will is to it,

Poor worm! thou art infected

This visitation shows it.
Mira.

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 your name?

Mira.

Miranda:-O my father,

I have broke your hest1 to say so!

Fer.

Admir'd Miranda!

Indeed, the top of admiration; worth
What's 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,2
And put it to the foil: 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 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

Therein forget.

I am, in my condition,

Fer.

A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;
(I would, not so!) and would no more endure
This wooden slavery, than I would suffer

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.

Mira.

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 elsel i' the world,

Do love, prize, honour you.

Mira.

I am a fool,

Fair encounter

Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace

On that which breeds between them!

Fer.

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: 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 fellow
You may deny me; but I'll be your servant,

Whether you will or no.

Fer.

And I thus humble ever.
Mira.

My mistress, dearest,

My husband then?

(1) Whatsoever.