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Enter MIRANDA ; and PROSPERO at a distance. Mir.
Alas, now! pray you, Work not so hard : I would the lightning had Burnt up those logs, that you are enjoin'd 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. Fer.
O most dear mistress The sun will set, before I shall discharge What I must strive to do. Mir.
If you 'll sit down,
No, precious creature ;
It would become me
Poor worm ! thou art infected ;
You look wearily.