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Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom,

hey-day, freedom!

Ste. O brave monster! lead the way.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Before Prospero's cell.

Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log.

Fer. 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 than her father's crabbed ;
And he's 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 ne'er like executor.

I forget:

But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my la

bors;

Most busy-less, when I do it.

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Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance. Mir. 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.

Mir.

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

Mir.

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 it is against.

Pro.

Poor worm! thou art infected;

You look wearily.

This visitation shows it.

Mir.

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?

Mir.

Miranda :-O my father,

I have broke your hest1 to say so!

Fer.

Indeed, the top of admiration;
What's dearest to the world!

Admired Miranda!

worth

Full many a lady

I have eyed 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 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 : 3 But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerless are created
Of every creature's best."

Mir.

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 my father's precepts
I therein do forget.

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3 Made it doubtful whether the virtue or the defect preponderated.

Alluding to the picture of Venus by Apelles.

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