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Hel.

And I am sick when I look not on you.

Dem.

You do impeach your modesty too much,

To leave the city and commit yourself

Into the hands of one that loves you not;

To trust the opportunity of night,

And the ill counsel of a desert place,

With the rich worth of your virginity.

Hel.

Your virtue is my privilege. For that

It is not night when I do see your face,

Therefore I think I am not in the night,

Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company,

For you in my respect are all the world.

Then how can it be said I am alone,

When all the world is here to look on me?

Dem.

I’ll run from thee, and hide me in the brakes,

And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.

Hel.

The wildest hath not such a heart as you.

Run when you will; the story shall be chang’d:

Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase;

The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind

Makes speed to catch the tiger—bootless speed,

When cowardice pursues and valor flies.

Dem.

I will not stay thy questions. Let me go;

Or if thou follow me, do not believe