Bublifhd. March 11791. by John Goiab Boydell, at the Shakspeare Gallery Pall Mall &Ngo Cheapfide.

A

Claud. Stand thee by, Friar:-Father, by your leave ; Will you with free and unconstrained soul

Give me this maid, your daughter?

Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me.

Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth

May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?

Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.

Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness.

There, Leonato, take her back again;

Give not this rotten orange to your friend;

She's but the sign and semblance of her honour:

Behold, how like a maid she blushes here:

O, what authority and shew of truth
Can cunning sin cover itself withal!

Comes not that blood, as modest evidence,
To witnefs simple virtue? Would you not swear,
All
you that see her, that she were a maid,
By these exterior shews? But she is none:
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed:
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.
Leon. What do you mean, my lord?

Claud. Not to be married;

Not knit my soul to an approved wanton.

Leon. Dear, my lord, if you, in your own proof,

Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth,

And made defeat of her virginity,

Claud. I know what you would say; If I have known her,

You will say, she did embrace me as a husband,

And so extenuate the forehand sin:

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