Ferdinand: There be
some sports are painful, and their labor 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 odious, but the
mistress which I serve quickens what’s dead and makes my labors pleasures. O, she is ten times more gentle that her
fathers crabbed, and he’s more composed 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 never like executor. I
forget; but these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labors, most busy lest when
I do it.
Miranda:
Ferdinand: O most
dear mistress, The sun will set before I discharge what I must strive to do.
No, precious creature, I had rather crack my sinews, break
my back, than you should such dishonor undergo while I sit lazy by.
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?
Admired Miranda!
Indeed the top of admiration, worth what’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady I have eyed with best
regard, and many a time the harmony of the their tongues hath into bondage
brought my too diligent ear. For
several virtues 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 creatures best.
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.
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.
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 else I’ the world
do love, prize, honor you.
Wherefore weep you?
My mistress, dearest, and I thus humble ever.
Ay, with a heart as willing as bondage e’er of freedom.
Here’s my hand.
A
thousand thousand!