Fla. I am that maiden lost, your loving daughter.
Edm. Bring here my glasses, stand before me here!
Now, now, I’ll judge thee well; I’ll see this straight:
And first her look was mild—in this thou’lt do;
Then she was kind, most excellent, and good;
Well, and so seemest thou. Now for the last:
O! her heart was—but thine I cannot see;
There thou deceivest me: I know thee not.
Yet, if thou be my daughter,
On thy forehead is a mark—