I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish
55 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.
Fer.
I am, in my condition,
60 A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;