So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best.
Mira. I do not know 48
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, 52
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, 56
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 64
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, 68
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, 72
Do love, prize, honour you.
Mira. I am a fool
To weep at what I am glad of.
53 skilless: ignorant
58 Something: somewhat
59 condition: rank
70 invert: transform
