| ACT 3
1. SCENE I. Before PROSPERO'S cell
 [Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log.]
 FERDINAND.
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.
 
 [Enter MIRANDA: and PROSPERO behind.]
 MIRANDA.
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.
 
 FERDINAND.
O most dear mistress,
 The sun will set, before I shall discharge
 What I must strive to do.
 
 MIRANDA.
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 dishonour 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 it is against.
 
 PROSPERO.
[Aside] Poor worm! thou art infected:
 This visitation shows it.
 
 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?
 
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