If you'll sit down,
I'll bear your logs the while. Pray give me that,
I'll carry it to the pile.
FERDINAND.
No, precious creature;
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonor undergo,
While I sit lazy by.
MIRANDA.
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 against.
* * * *
MIRANDA.
You look wearily.
FERDINAND.
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?