Will win her love again? my death must doe it:
And if that sacrifice can purge my follies,
Be pleas'd, O mightie Love, I dye thy servant-- [_Exit._

_ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._

_Enter_ Leontius, _and_ Celia.

_Leo_. I know he do's not deserve ye; h'as us'd you poorly:
And to redeem himself--

_Cel_. Redeem?

_Leo_. I know it--
There's no way left.

_Cel_. For Heavens sake do not name him,
Do not think on him Sir, he's so far from me
In all my thoughts now, methinks I never knew him.

_Leo_. But yet I would see him again.

_Cel_. No, never, never.

_Leo_. I do not mean to lend him any comfort;
But to afflict him, so to torture him;
That even his very Soul may shake within him:
To make him know, though he be great and powerfull,
'Tis not within his aim to deal dishonourably,
And carry it off; and with a maid of your sort.

_Cel_. I must confess, I could most spightfully afflict him;
Now, now, I could whet my anger at him;
Now arm'd with bitterness, I could shoot through him;
I long to vex him.

_Leo_. And doe it home, and bravely.

_Cel_. Were I a man!

_Leo_. I'le help that weakness in ye:
I honour ye, and serve ye.

_Cel_. Not only to disclaim me,
When he had seal'd his vowes in Heaven, sworn to me,
And poor believing I became his servant:
But most maliciously to brand my credit,
Stain my pure name.

_Leo_. I would not suffer it:
See him I would again, and to his teeth too:
Od's precious, I would ring him such a lesson--

_Cel_. I have done that already.

_Leo_. Nothing, nothing:
It was too poor a purge; besides, by this time
He has found his fault, and feels the hells that follow it.
That, and your urg'd on anger to the highest,
Why, 'twill be such a stroak--

_Cel_. Say he repent then,
And seek with tears to soften, I am a woman;
A woman that have lov'd him, Sir, have honour'd him:
I am no more.

_Leo_. Why, you may deal thereafter.

_Cel_. If I forgive him, I am lost.

_Leo_. Hold there then,
The sport will be to what a poor submission--
But keep you strong.

_Cel_. I would not see him.

_Leo_. Yes,
You shall Ring his knell.

_Cel_. How if I kill him?

_Leo_. Kill him? why, let him dye.

_Cel_. I know 'tis fit so.
But why should I that lov'd him once, destroy him?
O had he scap't this sin, what a brave Gentleman--

_Leo_. I must confess, had this not faln, a nobler,
A handsomer, the whole world had not show'd ye:
And to his making such a mind--

_