finished_summaries/shmoop/The Tempest/section_4_part_0.txt
The Tempest.act 3.scene 1
act 3, scene 1
{"name": "Act 3, Scene 1", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210411014001/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/tempest/summary/act-3-scene-1", "summary": "Near Prospero's cell, Ferdinand collects firewood, and philosophizes that it isn't so bad to do such terrible work, because he is refreshed by the thought of his young, virginal, sweet, would-be wife, Miranda. She conveniently enters, and Prospero, being the overbearing father that he is, spies on them. Miranda begs Ferdinand to take a break, and even offers to do his work for a while. Ferdinand refuses, and takes the opportunity to ask a very important question, namely, what his promised wife's name is. Seriously. Moving briskly along, Miranda tells Ferdinand her name, which she promised her father she wouldn't do. The two briefly share their experiences: He's known lots of women , and still likes Miranda best. Miranda has known no men, but likes Ferdinand best. They declare their mutual love of each other and now that all the tricky formalities like knowing each other's names are out of the way, they promise to be husband and wife. Prospero, watching all of this, rejoices.", "analysis": ""}
ACT III. SCENE I.

_Before PROSPERO'S cell._

  _Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log._

_Fer._ 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                               5
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,                     10
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 lest, when I do it.

  _Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen._

_Mir._                  Alas, now, pray you,                        15
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;                         20
He's safe for these three hours.

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

_Mir._                  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;                     25
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.

_Mir._             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,                     30
And yours it is against.

_Pros._                Poor worm, thou art infected!
This visitation shows it.

_Mir._                  You look wearily.

_Fer._ 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,--                        35
What is your name?

_Mir._           Miranda. --O my father,
I have broke your hest to say so!

_Fer._                          Admired Miranda!
Indeed the top of admiration! worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have eyed with best regard, and many a time                       40
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,                        45
And put it to the foil: but you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best!

_Mir._             I do not know
One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen                      50
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;                                 55
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,
A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;                              60
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,                        65
To make me slave to it; and for your sake
Am I this patient log-man.

_Mir._                   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                                70
What best is boded me to mischief! I,
Beyond all limit of what else i' the world,
Do love, prize, honour you.

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

_Pros._                     Fair encounter
Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace                     75
On that which breeds between 'em!

_Fer._                          Wherefore weep you?

_Mir._ 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,                           80
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,                          85
Whether you will or no.

_Fer._                My mistress, dearest;
And I thus humble ever.

_Mir._                My husband, then?

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

_Mir._ And mine, with my heart in't: and now farewell               90
Till half an hour hence.

_Fer._                 A thousand thousand!

    [_Exeunt Fer. and Mir. severally._

_Pros._ So glad of this as they I cannot be,
Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing
At nothing can be more. I'll to my book;
For yet, ere supper-time, must I perform                            95
Much business appertaining.    [_Exit._


  Notes: III, 1.

  1: _and_] _but_ Pope.
  2: _sets_] Rowe. _set_ Ff.
  4, 5: _my ... odious_] _my mean task would be As heavy to me as
    'tis odious_ Pope.
  9: _remove_] _move_ Pope.
  14: _labours_] _labour_ Hanmer.
  15: _Most busy lest_] F1. _Most busy least_ F2 F3 F4. _Least busy_
    Pope. _Most busie-less_ Theobald._ Most busiest_ Holt White conj.
    _Most busy felt_ Staunton. _Most busy still_ Staunton conj.
    _Most busy-blest_ Collier MS. _Most busiliest_ Bullock conj.
  _Most busy lest, when I do_ (_doe_ F1 F2 F3) _it_] _Most busy when
    least I do it_ Brae conj. _Most busiest when idlest_ Spedding
    conj. _Most busy left when idlest_ Edd. conj. See note (XIII).
  at a distance, unseen] Rowe.
  17: _you are_] F1. _thou art_ F2 F3 F4.
  31: _it is_] _is it_ Steevens conj. (ed. 1, 2, and 3). om. Steevens
    (ed. 4) (Farmer conj.).
  34, 35: _I do beseech you,--Chiefly_] _I do beseech you Chiefly_ Ff.
  59: _I therein do_] _I do_ Pope. _Therein_ Steevens.
  62: _wooden_] _wodden_ F1.
  _than to_] _than I would_ Pope.
  72: _what else_] _aught else_ Malone conj. (withdrawn).
  80: _seeks_] _seekd_ F3 F4.
  88: _as_] F1. _so_ F2 F3 F4.
  91: _severally_] Capell.
  93: _withal_] Theobald. _with all_ Ff.




Act 3, Scene 1
Near Prospero's cell, Ferdinand collects firewood, and philosophizes that it isn't so bad to do such terrible work, because he is refreshed by the thought of his young, virginal, sweet, would-be wife, Miranda. She conveniently enters, and Prospero, being the overbearing father that he is, spies on them. Miranda begs Ferdinand to take a break, and even offers to do his work for a while. Ferdinand refuses, and takes the opportunity to ask a very important question, namely, what his promised wife's name is. Seriously. Moving briskly along, Miranda tells Ferdinand her name, which she promised her father she wouldn't do. The two briefly share their experiences: He's known lots of women , and still likes Miranda best. Miranda has known no men, but likes Ferdinand best. They declare their mutual love of each other and now that all the tricky formalities like knowing each other's names are out of the way, they promise to be husband and wife. Prospero, watching all of this, rejoices.