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?
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! Full many a lady
I have eyed with best regard, and many a time
Th’ harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear. For several virtues
Have I liked several women; never any
With so full soul but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed,
And put it to foil. But you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature’s best.
(The Tempest, III. 1)