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As heavy to me, as 'tis odious; but

The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours 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 éxecutor. I forget:9

But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours; Most busy-less, when I do it.1

Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO, at a distance. Mira. 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.

O most dear mistress,

Fer.
The sun will set, before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.

Mira.

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 dishonour undergo, While I sit lazy by.

9 I forget:] Perhaps Ferdinand means to say-I forget my task; but that is not surprising, for I am thinking on Miranda, and these sweet thoughts, &c. He may, however mean, that he forgets, or thinks little of the baseness of his employment. Whichsoever be the sense, And, or For, should seem more proper, in the next line, than But. Malone.

1 Most busy-less, when I do it.] The two first folios read:

"Most busy lest, when I do it.”

'Tis true this reading is corrupt; but the corruption is so very little removed from the truth of the text, that I cannot afford to think well of my own sagacity for having discovered it.

Most busy lest, when I do it.

fol. pr. 16.23

Most bury, least when I do it. pr. pol. 1632.
Most busy - blest when I do it is. fol. 1632

Theobald.

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 against.2

Pro.

Poor worm! thou art infected;

This visitation shews it.

Mira.

You look wearily.

3

Fer. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me, When you are by at night.3 I do beseech you, (Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,) What is your name?

Mira.

Miranda :-O my father,

I have broke your hest to say so!

Admir'd Miranda,

Fer.
Indeed, the top of admiration; worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have ey'd 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 lik'd several women; never any,
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd,
And put it to the foil: But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best."

2 And yours against.] The old copy reads:"And yours it is against."

By the advice of Dr. Farmer, I have omitted the words, in Italicks, as they are needless to the sense of the passage, and would have rendered the hemistich too long to join with its successor, in making a regular verse. Steevens.

3

-'tis fresh morning with me,

When you are by at night.]

sc. ii:

"Tu mihi curarum requies, tu nocte vel atrâ
"Lumen

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Tibul. Lib. iv. El. xiii. Malone.

hest] For behest; i. e. command. So before, Act I.

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5 Of every creature's best.] Alluding to the picture of Venus by Apelles. Johnson.

Had Shakspeare availed himself of this elegant circumstance, he would scarcely have said, " of every creature's best," because such a phrase includes the component parts of the brute creation.

H

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 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
Therein forget."

Fer.

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 I would suffer

The flesh-fly blow my mouth.3-Hear my soul speak ;—

Had he been thinking on the judicious selection, made by the Grecian Artist, he would rather have expressed his meaning by "every woman's," or "every beauty's best." Perhaps, he had only in his thoughts, a fable, related by Sir Philip Sidney, in the third book of his Arcadia. The beasts obtained permission from Jupiter to make themselves a King; and accordingly created one of every creature's best:

"Full glad they were, and tooke the naked sprite,

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"Which straight the earth yclothed in his clay : "The lyon heart; the ounce gave active might; "The horse good shape; the sparrow lust to play; 'Nightingale voice, entising songs to say, &c. &c. "Thus man was made; thus man their lord became." In the 1st book of the Arcadia, a similar praise is also bestowed, by a lover on his mistress:

"She is her selfe of best things the collection." Steevens.' 6 Therein forget.] The old copy, in contempt of metre, reads "I therein do forget." Steevens.

7

than I would suffer, &c.] The old copy reads-Than to suffer. The emendation is Mr. Pope's. Steevens.

The reading of the old copy is right, however ungrammatical. So, in All's well that ends well: "No more of this, Helena, go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have." Malone.

The defective metre shows that some corruption had happened in the present instance. I receive no deviations from established grammar, on the single authority of the folio. Steevens.

8 The flesh-fly blow my mouth.] Mr. Malone observes, that to blow, in this instance, signifies to "swell and inflame."

But I

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.

Mira.

Do you love me?

Fer. 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, honour you.

Mira.

I am a fool,

To weep at what I am glad of.1

Pro.

Fair encounter

Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace
On that, which breeds between them!

Fer.

Wherefore weep you? Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give; and much less take, What I shall die to want: But this is trifling;

And all the more it seeks to hide itself,

believe he is mistaken. To blow, as it stands in the text, means the act of a fly, by which she lodges eggs in flesh. So, in Chapman's version of the Iliad:

9

66 I much fear, lest with the blows of flies
"His brass-inflicted wounds are fill'd-"

Steevens.

of what else i' the world,] i. e. of aught else; of whatsoever else there is in the world. I once thought we should read -aught else. But the old copy is right. So, in King Henry VI. P. III:

"With promise of his sister, and what else,

"To strengthen and support king Edward's place." Malone. 1 I am a fool,

To weep at what I am glad of.] This is one of those touches of nature, that distinguish Shakspeare from all other writers. It was necessary, in support of the character of Miranda, to make her appear unconscious that excess of sorrow and excess of joy find alike their relief from tears; and, as this is the first time, that consummate pleasure had made any near approaches to her heart, she calls such a seeming contradictory expression of it, folly. The same thought occurs in Romeo and Juliet:

2

"Back, foolish tears, back, to your native spring!
"Your tributary drops belong to woe,

"Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy." Steevens.

it seeks —] i. e. my affection seeks. Malone.

The bigger bulk it shews.

Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife,3 if you will marry me; If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow4 You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no.

Fer.

And I thus humble ever.
Mira.

My mistress, dearest,

My husband' then?

Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing,

As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand.

Mira. And mine, with my heart in't:5 And now, farewell,

Till half an hour hence.

Fer.

A thousand! thousand!

[Exeunt FER. and MIRA,

Pro. So glad of this as they, I cannot be,

Who are surpriz'd with all;
At nothing can be more.

3 I am your wife, &c.].

4

5

but my rejoicing I'll to my book;

"Si tibi non cordi fuerant connubia nostra,
"Attamen in vestras potuisti ducere sedes,
"Quæ tibi jucundo famularer serva labore;
"Candida permulcens liquidis vestigia lymphis,
"Purpureâve tuum consternens veste cubile."

Catul. 62. Malone.

your fellow -] i. e. companion. Steevens.

here's my hand.

Mira. And mine, with my heart in't:] It is still customary, in the west of England, when the conditions of a bargain are agreed upon, for the parties to ratify it, by joining their hands, and at the same time for the purchaser to give an earnest. To this practice the poet alludes. So, in The Winter's Tale:

"Ere I could make thee open thy white hand,

"And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter
"I am your's for ever?'

And again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona:

"Pro. Why then we'll make exchange; here, take you
Ful. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.

this.

"Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy." Henley.

6 So glad of this as they, I cannot be,

Who are surpriz'd with all;] The sense might be clearer, were we to make a slight transposition:

"So glad of this as they, who are surpriz'd
"With all, I cannot be "

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