FERDINAND I am, in my condition,
A prince, Miranda; I do think a king
(I would not so!) and would no more endure
This wooden slavery than to suffer
The flesh-fly blow my mouth! Hear my soul speak:
The very instant that I saw you did
My heart fly to your service, there resides
To make me slave to it, and for your sake
Am I this patient log-man. (3.1.59-67)
Ferdinand is growing ever-more impassioned. He wants Miranda to be completely clear that he is not accustomed to this sort of labour: I am a prince, Miranda. (The second time he’s called her by name…) And a reminder of the specifics of his situation: in fact I think I’m a king – but I would not so, I really hope not – I hope, still, that my father is still alive. (A reminder for the audience, too, of that other strand of the plot, last encountered several scenes ago. This is the mistakenly grieving son of the mistakenly grieving father.) Ordinarily, I wouldn’t put endure this wooden slavery, log-carrying, Caliban’s work, any kind of hard physical labour. Me doing this kind of lowly work is like – a disgusting image – having a carrion fly lay its eggs in my mouth – like, eventually, a mouth full of maggots. (Ferdinand, this is not necessarily the metaphor to endear you to Miranda. But it’s certainly got an intimacy to it, if we imagine the flesh-fly laying its eggs, blowing his mouth, as being like a grotesque kiss. Ferdinand is imagining the delicate touch of lips, perhaps, and this grim conceit is as negative an inversion of that erotic vision, not even expressed, as he can come up with…) And now another declaration: hear my soul speak – this is my very being, my self, not prince or king, just me – and not the superficial, immature admirer of other women either. I loved you from the moment I saw you. I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this back-breaking, demeaning work only as a way of serving you. You have my heart, and I’d do anything for you. That’s why I’m this patient log-man (a nicely bathetic phrase, as if he can’t even quite think of how to describe such a lowly function; there could be a pause, a wry smile). For you.
