_Tul_. Why lives _Flavia_ a Virgin still? _Fla_. Because, I haue vow'd virginitie til I can get a husband. _Teren_. Why, _Flavia_, you haue many suitors. _Flav_. Oh, I am loaden with suitors; for indeede I am faine to beare with any of them, I have a dumbe-shewe of all their pictures, each has sent in his severall shadow, and I swear I had rather have them then the substance of any of them. _Tul_. Can you not describe them in action? _Flav_. Yes, and their action; I have one honest man of the age of fortie five, or there about, that traverses his ground three mile everie morning to speake to mee, and when hee is come, after the saluting ceremony, of 'how do you, Lady,' he falles to calculating the nativitie of the Moone, prognosticating what faire weather will follow, if it either snow or raine; sometime with a gentle pinche by the fingar intermixed with the volley[285] of sighes, hee falles to discoursing of the prise of pease, and that is as pleasing to me as a stinking breath. _Tul_. A good description. _Fla_. Another brings Letters of commendation from the Constable of the Parish, or the Church-warden, of his good behaviour and bringing up, how he could write and reade written hand; further desiring that his Father would request my Father that his Fathers Sonne might marrie my Fathers Daughter and heele make her a joynter of a hundred pound a yeare, and beget three or foure fooles to boote. _Teren_. Better and better. _Tul_.[286] _Usus promptus [sic] facit; Faemina[e] ludificantur viros_; well, forward. _Flav_.[287] I have another that I prise derer then the rest, a most sweete youth, and if the wind stand with him I can smell him half a mile ere hee come at me, indeede hee weares a Musk-cat--what call ye it?--about him. _Tul_. What doe you call it? _Flav_. What ye will, but he smels better then burnt Rosemarie, as well as a perfuming pan, and everie night after his first sleepe writes lovesicke sonnets, railing against left handed fortune his foe,[288] that suffers his sweet heart to frowne on him so. _Tul_. Then it seemes you graunt him no favour. _Flav_. Faith, I dare not venture on him, for feare he should be rotten; give me nature, not arte. _Tere_. Here comes Lord _Lentulus_. _Tul_. Swift danger, now ride poaste through this passage. _Enter_[289] _Lentulus_. Health to your honour. _Len_. And happines to you. _Tul_. In[290] heaven, deere Lord, but-- _Lent_. Tush, tush, on earth; come, come, I know your suite, tis graunted sure, what ere it be. _Tul_. My sute craves death, for treason to my friend. _Teren_. The Traitor lives while I have breath to spend, Then let me die to satisfie your will. _Lent_. Neither, yfaith, kneele not, rise, rise, I pray; You both confesse you have offended me? _Both_. We doe, we have. _Lent_. Then for this offence, be this your doome: _Tulley_ must die, but not till fates decree To cut your vital threed, or _Terentia_ Finde in her heart to be your Deathes-man.