I can create the rest: virtue and she
Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me.
Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.
King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose.
Hel. That you are well restored, my lord, I'm glad:
Let the rest go.
King. My honour's at the stake; which to [defeat],
I must produce my power. Here, take her hand,
Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift;
That dost in vile misprision shackle up