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 Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, 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: ! |