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.