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,
a sore injunction: my sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work; and says, such

Upon

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.
The sun will set, before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.

O most dear mistress,

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.

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

Cal.

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 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 labours;

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.

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 against.

Pro.

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
Therein forget.
Fer.

my

father's precepts

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

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.

To weep at what I am glad of.

I am a fool,

Fair encounter

Pro. 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.