'O my dear lady,' said Ferdinand, 'I dare not. I must finish my task
before I take my rest.'

'If you will sit down,' said Miranda, 'I will carry your logs the while.'
But this Ferdinand would by no means agree to. Instead of a help
Miranda became a hindrance, for they began a long conversation, so
that the business of log-carrying went on very slowly.

Prospero, who had enjoined Ferdinand this task merely as a trial of his
love, was not at his books, as his daughter supposed, but was standing
by them invisible, to overhear what they said.

Ferdinand inquired her name, which she told, saying it was against her
father's express command she did so.

Prospero only smiled at this first instance of his daughter's
disobedience, for having by his magic art caused his daughter to fall
in love so suddenly, he was not angry that she showed her love by
forgetting to obey his commands. And he listened well pleased to a
long speech of Ferdinand's, in which he professed to love her above
all the ladies he ever saw.

In answer to his praises of her beauty, which he said exceeded all the
women in the world, she replied: 'I do not remember the face of any
woman, nor have I seen any more men than you, my good friend, and
my dear father. How features are abroad, I know not: but, believe me,
sir, I would not wish any companion in the world but you, nor can my
imagination form any shape but yours that I could like. But, sir, I fear
I talk to you too freely, and my father's precepts I forget.'