_Ter_. And why not _Tullie_? _Tul_. It stands not aptly. _Tere_. I wants a sillible. _Tul_. It doth. _Tere_. Then noble _Cicero_. _Tul_. Thats too deere. _Tere_. Gentle is as good: Then say the best of gentle _Cicero_. _Tul_. Good Lady, wrong not your honour so To seate unworthy _Tully_ with your worth. Oh looke upon the worth of _Lentulus_, Let your faire hand be beame unto the ballance And with a stedded peyze lift up that beame. In th'one[252] scale put the worth of _Lentulus_, His state, his honors, and his revenewes; Against that heavy waite put povertie, The poore and naked name of _Cicero_, A partner of unregarded Orators; Then shall you see with what celeritie One title of his worth will soone pull up Poore _Tullies_ dignitie. _Tere_. Just to the height of _Terentias_ heart Where I will keepe and Character that name, And to that name my heart shall adde that love That shall wey downe the worth of _Lentulus_. _Tul_. Deare Madam. _Tere_. Speake still, if thou wilt, but not for him; The more thou speak'st the more augments my love, If that thou can'st adde more to infinite; The more thou speakest the more decreaseth his, If thou canst take away ought from nothing; Thinke, _Tulley_, if _Lentulus_ can love me, So much and more _Terentia_ doth love thee. _Tull_. Oh Madam, _Tulley_ is poore, and poore is counted base. _Ter_. Vertue is ritch and blots a poore disgrace. _Tul_. _Lentulus_ is great, his frowne's my woe, And of a friend he will become my foe. _Ter_. As he is friend, we will intreate his love; As he is great, his threatenings shall not make me love. _Tul_. Your fathers graunt makes _Lentulus_ your Lord. _Teren_. But if thereto his daughter not accord, That graunt is cancel'd; fathers may commaund Life before love, for life to true love's paund. _Tul_. How will _Flaminius_ brooke my povertie? _Ter_. Well, when _Flaminius_ see's no remedie. Lord how woman-like are men when they are woe'd! _Tully_, weigh me not light, nere did immodest blush Colour these cheeckes, but ardent. _Tully_. Silence, sweet Lady, heere comes _Flavia_. _Enter_[253] _Flavia_. _Fla_. Fie, Fie, how tedius ye are; yonders great looking for _Tulley_, the old senate has put on his spectacles, and _Lentulus_ and he are turning the leaves of a dog-hay [?], leaves of a worm-eaten Chronicle, and they want _Tullies_ judgment. _Tul_. About what, sweet Lady? _Fla_. To know what yeare it was the showers of raine fell in Aprill. _Tul_. I can resolve it by rote, Lady, twas that yeare the Cuckoo sung in May: another token Lady; there raigned in Rome a great Tyrant that yeare, and many Maides lost their heads for using flesh on Fish-daies. _Fla_. And some were sacrificed as a burnt offering to the Gods of Hospitallitie, were they not? _Tul_. Y'are a wag, _Flavia_, but talk and you must needes have a parting blowe. _Flav_. No matter so we stand out and close not. _Tull_. Or part faire at the close and too't again.