Dem. Come hither; thou art dead indeed, lost, tainted;
All that I left thee fair, and innocent,
Sweet as thy youth, and carrying comfort in't;
All that I hoped for vertuous, is fled from thee,
Turn'd black, and bankrupt.
Leo. 'By'r Lady, this cuts shrewdly.
Dem. Thou art dead, for ever dead; sins surfeit slew thee;
The ambition of those wanton eyes betrai'd thee;
Go from me, grave of honour; go thou foul one,
Thou glory of thy sin; go thou despis'd one,
And where there is no vertue, nor no virgin;
Where Chastity was never known, nor heard of;
Where nothing reigns but impious lust, and looser faces.
Go thither, child of bloud, and sing my doating.
Cel. You do not speak this seriously I hope Sir; I did but jest with you.
Dem. Look not upon me, There is more hell in those eyes, than hell harbours; And when they flame, more torments.
Cel. Dare ye trust me? You durst once even with all you had: your love Sir? By this fair light I am honest.
Dem. Thou subtle Circe, Cast not upon the maiden light eclipses: Curse not the day.
Cel. Come, come, you shall not do this:
How fain you would seem angry now, to fright me;
You are not in the field among your Enemies;
Come, I must cool this courage.
Dem. Out thou impudence,
Thou ulcer of thy Sex; when I first saw thee,
I drew into mine eyes mine own destruction,
I pull'd into my heart that sudden poyson,
That now consumes my dear content to cinders:
I am not now Demetrius, thou hast chang'd me;
Thou, woman, with thy thousand wiles hast chang'd me;
Thou Serpent with thy angel-eyes hast slain me;
And where, before I touch'd on this fair ruine,
I was a man, and reason made, and mov'd me,
Now one great lump of grief, I grow and wander.
Cel. And as you are noble, do you think I did this?