Cel.  That you have done already, You need no other Arms to me, but these Sir; But will you fight your self Sir?

Dem.  Thus deep in bloud wench, And through the thickest ranks of Pikes.

Cel.  Spur bravely Your firie Courser, beat the troops before ye, And cramb the mouth of death with executions.

Dem.  I would do more than these:  But prethee tell me, Tell me my fair, where got’st thou this male Spirit?  I wonder at thy mind.

Cel.  Were I a man then, You would wonder more.

Dem.  Sure thou wouldst prove a Souldier, And some great Leader.

Cel.  Sure I should do somewhat; And the first thing I did, I should grow envious, Extreamly envious of your youth, and honour.

Dem.  And fight against me?

Cel.  Ten to one, I should do it.

Dem.  Thou wouldst not hurt me?

Cel.  In this mind I am in I think I should be hardly brought to strike ye, Unless ’twere thus; but in my mans mind—­

Dem.  What?

Cel.  I should be friends with you too, Now I think better.

Dem.  Ye are a tall Souldier: 
Here, take these, and these;
This gold to furnish ye, and keep this bracelet;
Why do you weep now? 
You a masculine Spirit?

Cel.  No, I confess, I am a fool, a woman:  And ever when I part with you—­

Dem.  You shall not, These tears are like prodigious signs, my sweet one, I shall come back, loaden with fame, to honour thee.

Cel.  I hope you shall: 
But then my dear Demetrius,
When you stand Conquerour, and at your mercy
All people bow, and all things wait your sentence;
Say then your eye (surveying all your conquest)
Finds out a beautie, even in sorrow excellent,
A constant face, that in the midst of ruine
With a forc’d smile, both scorns at fate, and fortune: 
Say you find such a one, so nobly fortified,
And in her figure all the sweets of nature?

Dem.  Prethee, No more of this, I cannot find her.

Cel.  That shews as far beyond my wither’d beauty; And will run mad to love ye too.

Dem.  Do you fear me, And do you think, besides this face, this beauty, This heart, where all my hopes are lock’d—­

Cel.  I dare not:  No sure, I think ye honest; wondrous honest.  Pray do not frown, I’le swear ye are.

Dem.  Ye may choose.

Cel.  But how long will ye be away?

Dem.  I know not.

Cel.  I know you are angry now:  pray look upon me:  I’le ask no more such questions.

Dem.  The Drums beat, I can no longer stay.

Cel.  They do but call yet:  How fain you would leave my Company?

Dem.  I wou’d not, Unless a greater power than love commanded, Commands my life, mine honour.