large; But, as a brother to his sister, show'd Bashful sincerity and comely love. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? Out on thee! Seeming! I will write against it: You seem to me as Dian in her orb, As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; But you are more intemperate in your blood Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals That rage in savage sensuality. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide? Sweet prince, why speak not you? What should I speak? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common stale. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. This looks not like a nuptial. True! O God! Leonato, stand I here? Is this the prince? is this the prince's brother? Is this face Hero's? are our eyes our own? All this is so: but what of this, my lord? Let me but move one question to your daughter; And, by that fatherly and kindly power That you have in her, bid her answer truly. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. O, God defend me! how am I beset! What kind of catechising call you this? To make you answer truly to your name. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name With any just reproach? Marry, that can Hero; Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talk'd with you yesternight Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour, Myself, my brother and this grieved count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confess'd the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. Fie, fie! they are not to be named, my lord, Not to be spoke of; There is not chastity enough in language Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward graces had been placed About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart! But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell, Thou pure impiety and impious purity! For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, And on