FERDINAND AND MIRANDA. Ferdinand bearing a log. Fer. There be some sports are painful, but their labour The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead, Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness Nay these sweet thoughts do ev'n refresh my labour, Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a distance, unseen. Work not so hard; I would the lightning had Fer. O, most dear mistress, The sun will set before I shall discharge Mira. If you'll sit down I'll bear your logs the while. Pray give me that, I'll carry't to the pile. Fer. No, precious creature, I'd rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo, 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, Pros. Poor worm! thou art infected, and 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 may set it in my prayers), What is your name?, Mira. Miranda. O, my father, I've broke your hest to say so ! Fer. Admir'd Miranda ! Indeed, the top of admiration, worth What's dearest to the world: full many a lady With so full soul, but some defect in her Mira. I do not know One of my sex; no woman's face remember, (The jewel in my dower), I would not wish Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle Something too wildly, and my father's precepts I do forget. Fer. 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 Mira. Do you love me? Fer. O Heav'n, 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 else i' th' world, Mira. I am a fool, Pros. Fair encounter Of two most rare affections! Heav'ns rain grace Fer. Wherefore weep you? Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give; and much less take 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 Fer. My mistress, my dearest, And I thus humble ever. Mira. My husband, then? Fer. Ay, with a heart so willing As bondage e'er of freedom; here's my hand. Mira. And mine, with my heart in't. And now farewell Till half an hour hence. SHAKESPEAR, Por. PORTIA AND BRUTUS. Brutus, my lord! Bru. Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rise It is not for your health, thus to commit you now? Por. Nor for yours, neither. You have ungently, Brutus, Musing, and sighing, with your arıns across ; I urg'd you farther; then you scratch'd your head, But with an angry wafture of your hand, Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all. Bru. Why, so I do :-Good Portia, go to bed, Even from darkness. Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia. Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Is it excepted, I should know no secrets, To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. Bru. You are my true and honourable wife e; As dear to me as are the ruddy drops, That visit my sad heart. |