Miranda
                                                        
                                                        
                                                            Alas, now pray you,
      
Work not so hard. I would the lightning had
 
Burnt up those logs that you are enjoined 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.
                                                        
                                                    
                                                    
                                                    
                                                                
                                                                
                                                                    
                                                                        
                                                                        
                                                                            Stop working so hard. If only the lightning in the storm had burned all those logs you wouldn’t be forced to pile them up.
                                                                         
                                                                     
                                                                 
                                                            
                                                                
                                                                    
                                                                        
                                                                        
                                                                            How often do you think Miranda has disobeyed her father before now? What gives you that impression?
                                                                         
                                                                     
                                                                 
                                                            
                                                            
                                                 
                                            
                                                
                                                    
                                                    
                                                        
                                                            Ferdinand
                                                        
                                                        
                                                            O most dear mistress,
 
The sun will set before I shall discharge
 
What I must strive to do.
                                                        
                                                    
                                                    
                                                    
                                                                
                                                                
                                                                    
                                                                        
                                                                        
                                                                            It will be sunset before I have finished what I have 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.
                                                        
                                                    
                                                    
                                                    
                                                                
                                                                
                                                                    
                                                                        
                                                                        
                                                                            Why do you think Ferdinand does not want Miranda to help him carry the logs? What impression does his language give of him as a character?
                                                                         
                                                                     
                                                                 
                                                            
                                                            
                                                 
                                            
                                                
                                                    
                                                    
                                                        
                                                            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.
                                                        
                                                    
                                                    
                                                    
                                                                
                                                                
                                                                    
                                                                        
                                                                        
                                                                            There is often a visual joke in productions at this moment where Miranda easily picks up a heavy log that Ferdinand had struggled with. What impression would this give of Ferdinand and of Prospero's power?
                                                                         
                                                                     
                                                                 
                                                            
                                                            
                                                 
                                            
                                                
                                                    
                                                    
                                                        
                                                            Prospero
                                                        
                                                        
                                                            Poor worm, thou art infected.
      
This visitation shows it.
                                                        
                                                    
                                                    
                                                    
                                                                
                                                                
                                                                    
                                                                        
                                                                        
                                                                            How do you think Prospero feels as he spies on his daughter with Ferdinand? 
                                                                         
                                                                     
                                                                 
                                                            
                                                            
                                                 
                                            
                                                
                                                    
                                                    
                                                        
                                                            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? 
                                                        
                                                    
                                                    
                                                    
                                                                
                                                                
                                                                    
                                                                        
                                                                        
                                                                            When you are with me, I feel as refreshed as though it is first thing in the morning
                                                                         
                                                                     
                                                                 
                                                            
                                                            
                                                 
                                            
                                                
                                                    
                                                    
                                                        
                                                            Miranda
                                                        
                                                        
                                                            Miranda.— O my father,
  
I have broke your hest to say so.
                                                        
                                                    
                                                    
                                                    
                                                                
                                                                
                                                            
                                                            
                                                 
                                            
                                                
                                                    
                                                    
                                                        
                                                            Ferdinand
                                                        
                                                        
                                                            Admired Miranda,
 
Indeed the top of admiration, worth
 
What’s dearest to the world!
                                                        
                                                    
                                                    
                                                    
                                                                
                                                                
                                                                    
                                                                        
                                                                        
                                                                            Ferdinand plays on Miranda’s name, starting by calling her 'Admired Miranda' and then combining the two words to make 'admiration'. What does Ferdinand's use of words reveal about him?
                                                                         
                                                                     
                                                                 
                                                            
                                                            
                                                 
                                            
                                                
                                                    
                                                        
                                                            (Text edited for rehearsals by Gregory Doran)