Book IV, 53: On CELIA

Celia complaines, her Heart cannot be well;
Nor will not, Celia, till it cease to swell;
'Tis too-too proud with blood, perverse and stout;
It must be launc'd to let the humour out:
Alas no launce can pierce it; It is growne
More hard then Raunce, or th' Adamantine stone.
Then Celia, like an Adamant, thou must
Make the incision with her owne made dust.