Читать книгу The Shakespeare Story-Book - Уильям Шекспир, William Szekspir, the Simon Studio - Страница 4

Prospero, in order to carry out his plans, pretended to be very harsh and severe with the young Prince of Naples, and he set him a heavy task – to remove and pile up some thousands of logs. For the sake of the love he already bore to Miranda, Ferdinand obeyed patiently, and it sweetened and refreshed his labour to see how distressed the gentle maiden was at the sight of his toil.

“Alas! I pray you, do not work so hard,” entreated Miranda, as she met him bearing a log. “I would the lightning had burnt up all these logs! Pray set that down and rest you. My father is hard at study: pray, now, rest yourself; he is safe for the next three hours.”

“Oh, most dear lady!” said Ferdinand, “the sun will set before I can finish what I must strive to do.”

“If you will sit down,” said Miranda, “I will carry your logs the while. Pray give me that; I will carry it to the pile.”

“No, dear lady, I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, than that you should undergo such dishonour while I sit lazy by.”

“It would become me as well as it does you,” said Miranda, “and I would do it the more easily, because I want to do it and you do not. You look weary.”

“No, noble lady; when you are near me the night becomes fresh morning,” said Ferdinand. “I do beseech you – chiefly that I may set it in my prayers – what is your name?”

“Miranda.”

“Admired Miranda! Dearest name in the world!” cried Ferdinand. “Many gentle ladies I have been pleased to see and to talk with, and I have liked different women for different virtues; but never until now have I found one without some defect. But you – oh, you, so perfect and so peerless! – are created the best of every creature!”

“I do not know any other woman,” said Miranda simply. “I remember no woman’s face save, from my glass, mine own. Nor have I seen others that I may call men, except you, good friend, and my dear father. I do not know what they may be like, but, in simple truth, I would not wish any companion in the world but you, nor can I imagine anyone whose look I would like better. But I prattle too wildly, and in that forget my father’s precepts.”

“In rank I am a Prince, Miranda,” said Ferdinand, “I think a King: would it were not so!” For he thought his father had perished with the ship. “I would not for one moment endure this slavery if it were not for you. The very instant I saw you my heart flew to your service, and for your sake I carry these logs patiently.”

“Do you love me?”

“By heaven and earth, I love, prize, and honour you beyond all limit of everything else in the world!”

Miranda’s eyes filled with tears of joy.

“I am foolish to weep for what I am glad of,” she whispered.

“Why do you weep?” said Ferdinand.

“Because I am unworthy to offer the love I desire to give,” said Miranda, “much less to take what I shall die for if I do not have. I am your wife if you will marry me; if not, I’ll die a maid. You may refuse to have me as your companion, but I’ll be your servant, whether you will or no.”

“My Queen, dearest, and I thus humble ever,” said Ferdinand, kneeling before her.

“My husband, then?”

“Ay, with a heart as willing as freedom after bondage: here’s my hand.”

“And mine, with my heart in it. And now, till half an hour hence, farewell!”

“A thousand thousand!” cried Ferdinand; and so they parted.

Unseen by the young lovers, Prospero, in his cell, had listened to all that passed, and his rejoicing was scarcely less than theirs to find that his schemes were working so well. But he had still much to do before supper-time, and he now returned to his books.