Tul.  Oh my Lord, affection is unlimited,
Daring all dangers, having no tipe nor figure,
Beyond all arte. 
Then tye not that (Great Lord,) to Tullies awe;
Fancy forswears all reason, love all lawe.

Lent.  How well thy power can shun that which
I followe with obedience.  Too true yfaith;
Thou mightst as well put out the eie of day,
Or cover sinne from heaven, or to erect
A towre of sand on the uncertain surge,
Or any thing that were more inficient,
Then to remoove one doting thought of mine
From her disdain.  Thy aide, deere Tulley,
Be thou an Orratour for Lentulus,
My tongue stands tun[e]d to a harsher method;
Breath in her eares, those Organs of receite,
A quintessence distild of honny words,
And charme with a beguiling lullabye
Her free consent to thine and my request: 
Which done, thats done which is my sole delight,
Which done, thats done that I can never quite.

Tull.  All which to me are problematique mines,
Obscurde inigmaes, and to my studies
Incognite Language; yet, if my powers
Have power to cloath my tongue in love,
Ile be a Lover and in love so pleade
As if that Tully loved Terentia.

Lent.  Thanks, sweete Cicero;
This day we dine with olde Flaminius,
The forward Father of my Aukeward love. 
His willing minde doth strive to make the peace
Betwixt our discord thoughts; his free consent
Is given to Lentulus; there, Tulley, take on holde,
And, when a Sunne of thy intent shines fayre,
Onset loves fort with polliticke assaults
And conquer; conquest in obtaining that
Where victors are repulsed.  But see! our talke
Hath over-tane our way; see, olde Flaminius
Comes to welcome us. 
With him a looke like[248] the bright orient verge
At the uprising of Auroraes shine.

    Enter Flaminius, Terentia, and Flavia.

Flam.  And, my good Lorde, y’are happily met.  Heartily welcome; young Tullie, welcome to; yee come wel to ease my charge, these Ladies find fault with their Guardian, I goe too softly for them:  old blood is stiffe, & young Ladies will not beare with age; I resigne, I resigne, to you that followe.

Lent.  If they admit us for their Guardian, Weele dare dangers ere we part from them.

Flam.  Why well saide, my Lords, Soldiers will not flye indeede; I have seene the day, I could have crackt a tree of yew, made my bowstring whisper in mine eare in[249] the twang, tost my pike lustilye.  Tis since the siedge of Parthia:  bith-’mas a great while; I was lustie then at the service was done there, yet I love the discourse.  Come my Lord, I chuse your companye, leave Tulley to the Ladies; he can tell them tales of Venus and Adonis and that best pleaseth them.  Now I must heere of raps and blowes, and Bils and Guns, and swords and bucklers.  I loved it once; come, our Cookes are backeward, discourse will beget stomacks; y’are like to tarrie long for leane Cates. [Exit.