_ 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