ROMIERO.
Sever ye! by the holy rood I will not!
I am right glad that ye are so united.
Stick to it then; be thrifty of your love,
To make it last; be doves in constancy.
Good sooth, young fools! I will not sever ye.
BEATRICE (kissing his hand).
MAURICE.
I fear'd, my Lord, that you might deem it right
To thwart my suit with Beatrice, who lived,
Protected, as her friends might haply think,
Beneath your roof.
ROMIERO.
In cooler blood so ought I to have felt.
Beshrew me! whither fled my wits the while?
I have most freely given what is not mine.
(To Guzman.) Do thou, my friend, untie this ravell'd knot.
(Turning again to Maurice.) I'll plead thy cause, at least, and prove, perhaps,
A powerful advocate.—Speak to them, Guzman;
And promise in my name, without reserve,
All that my honour warrants. I, meantime.
Must make my peace where I have need of pardon.
[Exit in eager haste.
