Hostis.  Come, Gossip, by my troth, I cannot keepe my hood in frame.

Cittie wife.  Let me helpe ye, woman.

Get.  Sir, we shall be troublesome to ye.

Gra.  Oh urge not that I pray ye.

Get.  I pray ye what shewe will be heere to night?  I have seen the Babones already, the Cittie of new Ninivie[320] and Julius Caesar, acted by the Mammets.

Grac.  Oh, gentlewoman, those are showes for those places they are used in; marry, heere you must expect some rare device, as Diana bathing herself, being discovered or occulated by Acteon, he was tranfigured to a hart, & werried to death with his own dogs.

Cit.  W.  Thats prettie in good truth; & must Diana, be naked?

Gra.  Oh of necessitie, if it be that show.

Hostis.  And Acteon, too? that’s prettie ifaith.

    Enter Caesar, Lent:  Tully, Teren:  Flavia.

Caes.  Now, gallant Bridegroomes, and your lovely Brides,
That have ingeminate in endlesse league
Your troth-plight hearts, in your nuptial vowes
Tyed true love knots that nothing can disolve
Till death, that meager pursevant of Jove
That Cancels all bonds:  we are to [sic] clowdie,
My spirit a typtoe, nothing I could chid so much
As winged time, that gins to free a passage
To his current glasse and crops our day-light,
That mistie night will summon us to rest,
Before we feele the burthen of our eylids. 
The time is tedious, wants varietie;
But that I may shew what delightful raptures
Combats my soule to see this union,
And with what boundles joy I doe imbrace it,
We heere commaund all prison gates flye ope,
Freeing all prisoners (traitors all except,)
That poore mens prayers may increase our daies,
And writers circle ye with wreathes of bayes.

Grac.  S’foot, Accutus, lets lay hold of this to free our captive.

Acu.  Content; ile prosecute it.

Tul.  Dread soveraigne, heaven witnesse with me
With what bended spirit I have attainde
This height of happinesse; and how unwillingly,
Till heavens decree, Terentias love, and your
Faire consents did meet in one to make
Me Lord thereof:  nor shall it add one scruple
Of high thought to my lowly minde.
Tully is Tully, parentage poore, the best
An Orator, but equall with the least.

Lent.  Oh no doubt, Accutus, be the attempt
My perill, his royall promise is past
In that behalfe.  My soveraigne, this Gentlemans
Request takes hold upon your gratious promise
For the releasement of a prisoner.

Cos.  My promise is irrevocable, take it; But what is hee and the qualitie of his fault?

Acut.  A gentleman, may it please your grace; his fault Suspition, and most likly innocent.