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,
And yours it is against.
Pros. [Aside.] Poor worm, thou art infected!
This visitation shows it.
Mira. 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?
Mira. Miranda—O my father,
I’ve broke your best to say so!
Ferd. Admired Miranda!
Indeed the top of admiration; worth
What’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I’ve 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:[420-5] but you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature’s best!
Mira. 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,
Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle
Something too wildly, and my father’s precepts
I therein do forget.
Ferd. I am, in my condition,
A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king,—
I would not so![420-6]—and would no more endure
This wooden slavery than to suffer
The flesh-fly blow[422-7] 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.