I do not know One of my sex; no woman...

The Tempest

Miranda

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Text

I do not know

One of my sex; no woman's face remember,

Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen

More that I may call men than you, good friend,

And my dear father: 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. But I prattle

Something too wildly and my father's precepts

I therein do forget.

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