1 I am more serious than my custom.
2 I am in case to justle a constable.
3 I am your wife if you will marry me.
4 I am a fool To weep at what I am glad of.
5 Wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this country.
6 A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples.
7 You have often Begun to tell me what I am, but stopped And left me to a bootless inquisition, Concluding "Stay."
8 Remember First to possess his books, for without them He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not One spirit to command.
9 My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, The wrack of all my friends, nor this man's threats To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid.
10 How features are abroad I am skilless of, but by my modesty, The jewel in my dower, I would not wish Any companion in the world but you, Nor can imagination form a shape Besides yourself to like of.
11 --But howsoe'er you have Been justled from your senses, know for certain That I am Prospero and that very duke Which was thrust forth of Milan, who most strangely Upon this shore, where you were wracked, was landed To be the lord on 't.'
12 I have done nothing but in care of thee, Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who Art ignorant of what thou art, naught knowing Of whence I am, nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father.