ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA.

Enter Leontius, and Celia.

Leo. I know he do's not deserve ye; h'as us'd you poorly: And to redeem himself—

Cel. Redeem?

Leo. I know it— There's no way left.

Cel. For Heavens sake do not name him, Do not think on him Sir, he's so far from me In all my thoughts now, methinks I never knew him.

Leo. But yet I would see him again.

Cel. No, never, never.

Leo. I do not mean to lend him any comfort; But to afflict him, so to torture him; That even his very Soul may shake within him: To make him know, though he be great and powerfull, 'Tis not within his aim to deal dishonourably, And carry it off; and with a maid of your sort.

Cel. I must confess, I could most spightfully afflict him; Now, now, I could whet my anger at him; Now arm'd with bitterness, I could shoot through him; I long to vex him.

Leo. And doe it home, and bravely.

Cel. Were I a man!

Leo. I'le help that weakness in ye: I honour ye, and serve ye.

Cel. Not only to disclaim me, When he had seal'd his vowes in Heaven, sworn to me, And poor believing I became his servant: But most maliciously to brand my credit, Stain my pure name.

Leo. I would not suffer it: See him I would again, and to his teeth too: Od's precious, I would ring him such a lesson—

Cel. I have done that already.

Leo. Nothing, nothing: It was too poor a purge; besides, by this time He has found his fault, and feels the hells that follow it. That, and your urg'd on anger to the highest, Why, 'twill be such a stroak—

Cel. Say he repent then, And seek with tears to soften, I am a woman; A woman that have lov'd him, Sir, have honour'd him: I am no more.

Leo. Why, you may deal thereafter.

Cel. If I forgive him, I am lost.

Leo. Hold there then, The sport will be to what a poor submission— But keep you strong.

Cel. I would not see him.

Leo. Yes, You shall Ring his knell.

Cel. How if I kill him?

Leo. Kill him? why, let him dye.

Cel. I know 'tis fit so. But why should I that lov'd him once, destroy him? O had he scap't this sin, what a brave Gentleman—

Leo. I must confess, had this not faln, a nobler, A handsomer, the whole world had not show'd ye: And to his making such a mind—

Cel. 'Tis certain: But all this I must now forget.

Leo. You shall not If I have any art: goe up sweet Lady, And trust my truth.

Cel. But good Sir bring him not.

Leo. I would not for the honour ye are born to, But you shall see him, and neglect him too, and scorn him.

Cel. You will be near me then.

Leo. I will be with ye; Yet there's some hope to stop this gap, I'le work hard. [Ex.