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  • Title: The Tempest (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editors: Brent Whitted, Paul Yachnin
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-370-0

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editors: Brent Whitted, Paul Yachnin
    Peer Reviewed

    The Tempest (Folio 1, 1623)

    Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.
    1235Enter Ferdinand (bearing a Log.)
    Fer. There be some Sports are painfull; & their labor
    Delight in them set off: Some kindes of basenesse
    Are nobly vndergon; and most poore matters
    Point to rich ends: this my meane Taske
    1240Would be as heauy to me, as odious, but
    The Mistris which I serue, quickens what's dead,
    And makes my labours, pleasures: O She is
    Ten times more gentle, then her Father's crabbed;
    And he's compos'd of harshnesse. I must remoue
    1245Some thousands of these Logs, and pile them vp,
    Vpon a sore iniunction; my sweet Mistris
    Weepes when she sees me worke, & saies, such basenes
    Had neuer like Executor: I forget:
    But these sweet thoughts, doe euen refresh my labours,
    1250Most busie lest, when I doe it. Enter Miranda and Prospero.
    Mir. Alas, now pray you
    Worke not so hard: I would the lightning had
    Burnt vp those Logs that you are enioynd to pile:
    Pray set it downe, and rest you: when this burnes
    1255'Twill weepe for hauing wearied you: my Father
    Is hard at study; pray now rest your selfe,
    Hee's safe for these three houres.
    Fer. O most deere Mistris,
    The Sun will set before I shall discharge
    1260What I must striue to do.
    Mir. If you'l sit downe
    Ile beare your Logges the while: pray giue me that,
    Ile carry it to the pile.
    Fer. No precious Creature,
    1265I had rather cracke my sinewes, breake my backe,
    Then you should such dishonor vndergoe,
    While I sit lazy by.
    Mir. It would become me
    As well as it do's you; and I should do it
    1270With much more ease: for my good will is to it,
    And yours it is against.
    Pro. Poore worme thou art infected,
    This visitation shewes it.
    Mir. You looke wearily.
    1275Fer. No, noble Mistris, 'tis fresh morning with me
    When y ou are by at night: I do beseech you
    Cheefely, that I might set it in my prayers,
    What is your name?
    Mir. Miranda, O my Father,
    1280I haue broke your hest to say so.
    Fer. Admir'd Miranda,
    Indeede the top of Admiration, worth
    What's deerest to the world: full many a Lady
    I haue ey'd with best regard, and many a time
    1285Th'harmony of their tongues, hath into bondage
    Brought my too diligent eare: for seuerall vertues
    Haue I lik'd seuerall women, neuer any
    With so full soule, but some defect in her
    Did quarrell with the noblest grace she ow'd,
    1290And put it to the foile. But you, O you,
    So perfect, and so peetlesse, are created
    Of euerie Creatures best.
    Mir. I do not know
    One of my sexe; no womans face remember,
    1295Saue from my glasse, mine owne: Nor haue I seene
    More that I may call men, then you good friend,
    And my deere Father: how features are abroad
    I am skillesse of; but by my modestie
    (The iewell in my dower) I would not wish
    1300Any Companion in the world but you:
    Nor can imagination forme a shape
    Besides your selfe, to like of: but I prattle
    Something too wildely, and my Fathers precepts
    I therein do forget.
    1305Fer. I am, in my condition
    A Prince ( Miranda) I do thinke a King
    (I would not so) and would no more endure
    This wodden slauerie, then to suffer
    The flesh-flie blow my mouth: heare my soule speake.
    1310The verie instant that I saw you, did
    My heart flie to your seruice, there resides
    To make me slaue to it, and for your sake
    Am I this patient Logge-man.
    Mir. Do you loue me?
    1315Fer. O heauen; O earth, beare witnes to this sound,
    And crowne what I professe with kinde euent
    If I speake true: if hollowly, inuert
    What best is boaded me, to mischiefe: I,
    Beyond all limit of what else i'th world
    1320Do loue, prize, honor you.
    Mir. I am a foole
    To weepe at what I am glad of.
    Pro. Faire encounter
    Of two most rare affections: heauens raine grace
    1325On that which breeds betweene 'em.
    Fer. Wherefore weepe you?
    Mir. At mine vnworthinesse, that dare not offer
    What I desire to giue; and much lesse take
    What I shall die to want: But this is trifling,
    1330And all the more it seekes to hide it selfe,
    The bigger bulke it shewes. Hence bashfull cunning,
    And prompt me plaine and holy innocence.
    I am your wife, if you will marrie me;
    If not, Ile die your maid: to be your fellow
    1335You may denie me, but Ile be your seruant
    Whether you will or no.
    Fer. My Mistris (deerest)
    And I thus humble euer.
    Mir. My husband then?
    1340Fer. I, with a heart as willing
    As bondage ere of freedome: heere's my hand.
    Mir. And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewel
    Till halfe an houre hence.
    Fer. A thousand, thousand. Exeunt.
    1345Pro. So glad of this as they I cannot be,
    Who are surpriz'd with all; but my reioycing
    At nothing can be more: Ile to my booke,
    For yet ere supper time, must I performe
    Much businesse appertaining. Exit.