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 Ha! ha! sweet daughter of the ugly knave, What a neat answer then she gave!

Choose now the Count, or wed thee with Andrés.

You are my father, Sir, 'tis true, And hold a father's claim to love and duty; To you pertains the right to speak; to me The choice to act. You wish me wedded; Sir. Smile on your spoilt child, and I will listen, Patient and duteous, to your lightest word. Love loves not force, but would be free as air. I must have time to think. To wed's a deed Done for all life, and sudden haste bad speed.

Having your promise then to wed my choice, I've named the two 'twixt whom your choice must fall.

Then, Sir, my choice on neither rests.

Come, child, tell me truth.