Teren. The Traitor lives while I have breath to spend, Then let me die to satisfie your will.
Lent. Neither, yfaith, kneele not, rise, rise, I pray; You both confesse you have offended me?
Both. We doe, we have.
Lent. Then for this offence, be this your doome: Tulley must die, but not till fates decree To cut your vital threed, or Terentia Finde in her heart to be your Deathes-man.
Flav. Faith the Fates may doe as they may, but Terentia will never finde in her heart to kill him, sheele first burie him quick.
Len. The like is doomde to faire Terentia. How say you both, are yee content?
Teren. My thoughts are plung'd in admiration.
Tul. But can your honour burie such a wrong?
Len. I can, I can; heere, Tulley, take Terentia,
Live many happie yeares in faithfull love.
This is no more then friendships lawes allow;
Thinke me thy self, another Cicero.
Flav. Twere better, my Lord, you did perswade her to think you another Cicero, so you might claim some interest in her now and then.