Scene 1.]

Enter Flaminius and Tully.

Flam. Goe to, I say, urge no more, tis Taverne talke, for Taverners Table talke for all the vomit of rumor. What newes, saies one? none so new as this: Tully shall be married to Terentia. What newes says another? the same, the same. Whose consent have ye? not mine, I deny it. I must know of it, ile have a hand; goe to, no more.

Tul. Gentle Sir,
Lay not a leaden loade of foule reproach
Upon so weake a prop; what's done is past recal.
If ought is done, unfitting to be done,
The worst is done, my life must answer it.

Flam. I, you shall answer it in the Senate house, the Emperor shall knowe it. If she be my childe, I will rule her, ile bridle her, ile curbe her, ile raine her; if she will not, let her goe, starve, begge, hang, drawe, sinke, swimme, she gets not a doit, a deneire, ile not owne her.

Tul. Reverend Sir, be more patient.

Flam. I am impatient, I am troubled, I am vext, I am scoft, I am pointed at, ile not endure it, ile not abide it, ile be revenged, I wil, of her, of you both, proud boy, wanton giglot,[278] aspyring, hautie. Knowe your equals, shee's not for ye, if ye persist, by my holy maker, you shall answer it, looke to it, you shall, you shall indeede. [Exit[279] Flaminus.

Tull. I shall, I must, I will, I will indeede,
Even to the greatest I will answere it;
If great mens eares be ope to inocency,
If greatnesse be not partial with greatenesse,
Even to the greatest I will answere it.
Perhaps, some shallow censurer will say,
The Orator was proud, he would climbe too hie;
But heaven and truth will say the contrarie.
My greatest grief is, I have my friend betraide;
The treasons done, I, and the Traitor's free,
Yet innocent Treason needes not to flee.
His loyaltie bids me abide his frowne,
And he hath power to raise or hurle me downe.

Enter[280] Terentia.

Tere. What ailes my Tully? wherefore look'st thou sad?
What discontent hath stopped the crimson current
Which ran so cheerefully within that brow,
And makes it sullen like a standing poole?
Tell me who ist hath wrong[d] my Cicero?
[Say,[281] is it Lentulus?]

Tul. Oh wrong him not.

Tere. Who is it then, that wrongs my Tully so?
What, hath Terentia ought offended thee?
Doost thou recall my former promises?
Dost thou repent thee of—

Tul. Oh wrong me not.

Tere. What, hath my father done this injurie?
There, there, my thoughts accord to say tis so.
I will deny him then, hee's not my father;
Hee's not my friend will envie Cicero.

Tul. Wrong not thy self.

Teren. What heavie string doost thou devide[282] upon?
Wrong not him, wrong not me, wrong not thy selfe.
Where didst thou learne that dolefull mandrake's note
To kill the hearers? Tully, canst thou not
Indure a little danger for my love,
The fierie spleene of an angrie Father,
Who like a storme will soon consume it self?
I have indurde a thousand jarring houres
Since first he did mistrust my fancies aime,
And will indure a thousand thousand more
If life or discord either live so long.

Tul. The like will I for sweete Terentia.
Feare not, I have approoved armour on,
Will bide the brunt of popular reproach
Or whatsoever.

Tere. Enough, Tully, we are discovered.

Enter[283] Flavia.

Fla. Yfaith,[284] are ye at it? what, is there never a loving teare shed on either side? nor you? nor you? Tullies [eyes] are red, come, come, ye fooles, be more breefe. I would have buried three husbands, before youle be married.

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.

Flav. Faith the Fates may doe as they may, but Terentia will never finde in her heart to kill him, sheele first burie him quick.

Len. The like is doomde to faire Terentia. How say you both, are yee content?

Teren. My thoughts are plung'd in admiration.

Tul. But can your honour burie such a wrong?

Len. I can, I can; heere, Tulley, take Terentia,
Live many happie yeares in faithfull love.
This is no more then friendships lawes allow;
Thinke me thy self, another Cicero.

Flav. Twere better, my Lord, you did perswade her to think you another Cicero, so you might claim some interest in her now and then.

Lent. That I would claim with you, faire Ladie; Hark in your eare, nay, I must conclude with you.

Flau. Y'oule not bite, my Lord?

Len. No, of my faith, my Lady.

Tere. Thus far, my love, our hopes have good successe; One storme more past, my griefes were much the less.

Tul. Friendship itself hath beene more prodigal Then a bolde face could begge upon a friend.

Lent. Why, then theres a bargaine.

Flav. Strike hands upon the same, I am yours to commaund.
Ile love with ye, ile lie with ye, ile love with all my heart,
With all my strength, with all my power and virtue:
Seald and delivered in the presence of us—

Lent. Marcus Tullius Cicero. Then you deliver this as your act and deede?

Flav. I doe, and scale it with this—

Lent. Why, well said, tis done; see, we begin but now, And are as ready to goe to Church as you. What needes further ceremony?

Flav. Yes, a little matrimony.

Lent. I, Lady. Come Tully and Terentia;
One day shall shine on both our Nuptials;
Feare not, ile quench the fire of your Fathers heate
With my consent.

Flav. I prethee, appoint the time.

Lent. About a week hence, love.

Flav. Oh, tis too intolerable long.

Lent. Then foure daies.

Flav. Foure daies is foure times foure & twenty hours. That's too long too.

Lent. We cannot sooner be readie.

Flav. Yes, and unreadie[291] too in a day and a halfe.

Lent. Well then two daies.

Flav. Til then weele feede on conceite; Tully, thanke me, but for your companie I would not tarry so long; come, Tully, since we shall bee married all at one time, weele goe to bed so, and he shall be maister of the Cock-pit that bids his Gossips[292] first.

[Exeunt.