Prospero, who had enjoined Ferdinand this task merely as a trial of his love, was not at his books, as his daughter supposed, but was standing by them invisible, to overhear what they said.

Here are the very words he heard, and even though Miranda told Ferdinand her name (it was against her father's express command she did so), yet Prospero only smiled at this first instance of his daughter's disobedience, for having by his magic art caused his daughter to fall in love so suddenly, he was not angry that she showed her love by forgetting to obey his commands. And he listened well pleased to the sweet speech of Ferdinand, in which he professed to love her above all the ladies he ever saw :

Mir.

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.

Mir.

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

O most dear mistress,

If you'll sit down,

I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give

me that;

I'll carry it to the pile.

Ferd.

Mir.

No, precious creature ; I'd rather crack my sinews, break my

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

It would become me As well as it does you: and I should do it With much more ease; for my good will

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?

Mir.

Miranda. O my father,

I've broke your hest to say so!

Ferd.

Admired Miranda! Indeed the top of admiration; worth What's dearest to the world!

Mir.

a lady

Full many

I've eyed with best regard; and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath into

bondage

Brought my too diligent ear.

virtues

For several

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: but you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best !

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,

But I prattle

Besides yourself, to like of.
Something too wildly, and my father's

precepts

I therein do forget.

Ferd.

Mir.

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 to suffer
The flesh-fly blow my mouth.

soul speak :

Hear my

The very instant that I saw you, did

My heart fly to your service: there resides,
To make me slave to it; and for

Am I this patient log-man.

your sake

Do you love me?

Ferd. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this

Mir.

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.

To weep at what I'm glad of.

Ferd.
Mir. At mine unworthiness.

I am a fool

Wherefore weep you?

35