Cecilia.
Then, gaze not in it,
Lest thou should'st see thy passing funeral.
I would not—I might chance to see far worse.
Marlowe.
Thou art too beautiful ever to die!
I look upon thee, and can ne'er believe it.
Cecilia.
O, sir—but passion, circumstance, and fate,
Can do far worse than kill: they can dig graves,