The Tempest, Act 3, Scene 1

There be some sports are painful, and their labour 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 labours pleasures: O, she is Ten times more gentle than her father’s crabbed, And he’s compos’d 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 never like executor. I forget: But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours, Most busy, least when I do it.

There are some games that are hard work, and the effort in them makes them more of a pleasure. Some kinds of humiliation are endured nobly, and the poorest tasks lead to rich results. This low job of mine would feel as crushing as it is hateful, except that the mistress I serve brings dead things to life and turns my labours into pleasures. Oh, she is ten times as gentle as her father is sour, and he is made of nothing but harshness. I have to move some thousands of these logs and stack them up, under a cruel order. My sweet mistress cries when she sees me working, and says such degrading work never had such a worker. I am forgetting myself — but these sweet thoughts actually revive me while I work, busiest of all when I am least aware of the labour.

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.

Oh, please, don't work so hard. I wish lightning had burned up those logs you have been ordered to stack! Please, put it down and rest. When this one burns, it will weep resin for having tired you out. My father is deep in his studies; please, rest yourself now. He's safely occupied for the next three hours.

O most dear mistress, The sun will set, before I shall discharge What I must strive to do.

Oh, dearest mistress, the sun will go down before I have finished what I must struggle to get done.

If you’ll sit down, I’ll bear your logs the while. Pray give me that; I’ll carry it to the pile.

If you'll sit down, I'll carry your logs in the meantime. Please give me that one; I'll take it to the pile.

No, precious creature; I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo, While I sit lazy by.

No, precious creature. I would rather snap my tendons and break my back than have you suffer such humiliation while I sit by, idle.

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.

It would suit me as well as it suits you, and I would do it far more easily, because my heart is willing to do it, and yours is unwilling.

[Aside.] Poor worm! thou art infected. This visitation shows it.

[Aside.] Poor creature! You're infected. This visit proves it.

You look wearily.

You look tired.

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?

No, noble mistress. It's fresh morning for me when you are beside me at night. I beg you — mainly so that I can include it in my prayers — what is your name?

Miranda—O my father! I have broke your hest to say so.

Miranda — oh, my father! I have broken your command by telling him.

Admir’d Miranda! 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 Th’ 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.

Admired Miranda! Truly, the height of everything admirable, worth the most precious thing in the world! I have looked at many a lady with close attention, and many times the music of their voices has captured my too-eager ear. I have liked different women for different qualities; but never any so wholeheartedly that some fault in her didn't clash with the finest grace she had and defeat it. But you — oh, you, so perfect and unmatched — were created out of the best of every living thing.

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 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.

I don't know a single woman of my own sex; I remember no woman's face except my own in my mirror; and I have seen no more people I can call men than you, good friend, and my dear father. What faces are like elsewhere in the world, I have no idea; but by my modesty, the jewel in my dowry, I would not want any companion in the world but you, nor can my imagination picture any shape besides yours that I could care for. But I am chattering somewhat too wildly, and in doing so I am forgetting my father's instructions.

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 to suffer The flesh-fly blow 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.

By rank I am a prince, Miranda; I think I am now a King — I wish I weren't! — and I would no more put up with this slavery of log-carrying than I would let a blowfly lay its eggs in my mouth. Hear my soul speak: the very moment I saw you, my heart flew to serve you; it lives there, making me its slave, and it is for your sake that I am this patient log-carrier.

Do you love me?

Do you love me?

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.

Oh heaven, oh earth, witness this declaration, and crown what I swear with a happy outcome, if I speak the truth; if I speak falsely, turn the best fortune that is promised me into disaster! Beyond every limit of anything else in the world, I love, treasure and honour you.

I am a fool To weep at what I am glad of.

I am a fool to cry at something that makes me happy.

[Aside.] Fair encounter Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between ’em!

[Aside.] A lovely meeting of two of the rarest affections! May the heavens rain grace on what is growing between them!

Wherefore weep you?

Why are you crying?

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, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife if you will marry me; If not, I’ll die your maid: to be your fellow You may deny me; but I’ll be your servant, Whether you will or no.

At my own unworthiness, which doesn't dare offer what I want to give, and still less dare take what I will die without. But this is nonsense; and the more it tries to hide itself, the larger it looms. Away with you, shy trickery! And you, plain and holy innocence, tell me what to say! I am your wife if you will marry me; if not, I'll die your servant. You may refuse to have me as your partner, but I will be your servant whether you want it or not.

My mistress, dearest; And I thus humble ever.

My mistress, dearest one — and I am always this humble before you.

My husband, then?

My husband, then?

Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e’er of freedom: here’s my hand.

Yes, with a heart as willing as a prisoner's ever was for freedom. Here's my hand.

And mine, with my heart in ’t: and now farewell Till half an hour hence.

And here's mine, with my heart in it. And now, goodbye until half an hour from now.

A thousand thousand!

A thousand thousand goodbyes!

So glad of this as they, I cannot be, Who are surpris’d withal; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I’ll to my book; For yet, ere supper time, must I perform Much business appertaining.

I cannot be as delighted by this as they are, since they are taken by surprise by it; but nothing could give me more joy. I'll go to my book, for before supper time I still have a great deal of related business to carry out.