Salutations, Valentinus!
Valentinus.
And to you kindly, Tertulla! Whatever you wish I desire it may befall you! [Tertulla sighs.] But wherefore thus deject of countenance?
Quartilla.
I know why!
Tertulla.
Peace, Tilla! At your age how should one comprehend such matters?
Quartilla.
Does one have to be tall as a fig-tree to know that you are bursting with longing for your garden? “Eheu! wretchedest of women I as many as ever have been born! Woe’s me!” [Mimicking her sister.]