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.

_Cel_. But a little.

_Dem_. Prethee farewel, and be not doubtfull of me.

_Cel_. I would not have ye hurt: and ye are so ventrous--
But good sweet Prince preserve your self, fight nobly,
But do not thrust this body, 'tis not yours now,
'Tis mine, 'tis only mine: do not seek wounds, Sir,
For every drop of blood you bleed--

_Dem_. I will _Celia_,
I will be carefull.

_Cel_. My heart, that loves ye dearly.

_Dem_. Prethee no more, we must part: [_Drums a March._
Hark, they march now.

_Cel_. Pox on these bawling Drums: I am sure you'l kiss me,
But one kiss? what a parting's this?

_Dem_. Here take me,
And do what thou wilt with me, smother me;
But still remember, if your fooling with me,
Make me forget the trust--

_Cel_. I have done: farewel Sir,
Never look back, you shall not stay, not a minute.

_Dem_. I must have one farewel more.

_Cel_. No, the Drums beat;
I dare not slack your honour; not a hand more,
Only this look; the gods preserve, and save ye.

_ACTUS SECUNDUS. SCENA PRIMA._

_Enter_ Antigonus, Carinthus, Timon.

_Ant_.