Ferdinand is the prince of Naples and the son of Alonso, the King of Naples, in Shakespeare's play, The Tempest. He falls in love with Miranda. He is quick to promise the title of queen and wife to Miranda even though he doesn't know her name. He is happy in humble labours, blinded by love. He makes a solemn vow to be truthful to Prospero, and not to violate Miranda's chastity before their wedding. Fictional biography Ferdinand is aboard the ship that is run aground due to the storm created by the sorcerer and old Duke, Prospero. Ferdinand is separated from his father and friends (purposely) by Ariel, the airy servant of Prospero. Ariel leads Ferdinand to Prospero and his daughter Miranda, with whom he instantly falls in love. Ferdinand, who is astounded that Miranda is even human, tells her that she is the most amazing woman he has ever encountered: Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard and many a time The 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 the foil: but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best! Ferdinand casts aside his grief and mourning for his father and friends, who he believes have all perished in the storm. He instead envelops himself in his love (and lust) for Miranda, telling her that he will make her the "Queen of Naples". According to plan, Prospero uses Ferdinand's infatuation with Miranda to re-gain power, and eventually take his rightful position as Duke of Milan. Accusing him of being a spy and traitor, Prospero keeps Ferdinand in isolation and forces him to arbitrarily move logs and large sticks. However, further, into the play, Prospero allows Ferdinand and Miranda to interact and seeing their desire for one another he allows them to marry. As I hope For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, With such love as ’tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strongest suggestion Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that day’s celebration, When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are foundered Or night kept chained below. Ferdinand