Teren. I have no power of Metamorphosing; If Tulley be not heere, you must concede,[251] I cannot make of Tulley Lentulus.
Cice. Nor can the world make Cicero so worthy.
Yet for an houre['s] discourse a Pesant's shape
May represent the person of a king;
Then in the person of the great Lentulus
I doe salute Sunne-bright Terentia.
Lady, vouchsafe a Saint-like smile on him
(From that angell forme) whose honord minde
Lies prostrate lowly at Terentia's feete;
Who hath put off a Golden victors honour
And left the Parthyan spoyle to Lepido;
Whome many Ladies have bedecked with favours
Of rich esteeme, oh proud he deignd to weare them,
Yet guiftes and givers hee did slight esteeme;
For why? the purpose of his thoughts were bent
To seek the love of faire Terentia.
The choce is such as choiser cannot bee
Even with a nimble eye; his vertues through
His smile is like the Meridian Sol
Discern'd a dauncing in the burbling brook;
His frowne out-dares the Austerest face
Of warre or Tyranny to sease upon;
His shape might force the Virgine huntresse
With him for ever live a vestall life;
His minde is virtues over-matcht, yet this
And more shall dye if this and more want force
To win the love of faire Terentia.
Then, gentle Lady, give a gentle do[o]me;
Never was brest the Land-lord to a heart
More loving, faithful, or more loyall then is
The brest of noble—
Teren. Tullie!
Tul. Lentulus!
Ter. And why not Tullie?
Tul. It stands not aptly.
Tere. I wants a sillible.
Tul. It doth.
Tere. Then noble Cicero.
Tul. Thats too deere.