His loyaltie bids me abide his frowne,
And he hath power to raise or hurle me downe.
_Enter_[280] _Terentia_.
_Tere_. What ailes my _Tully_? wherefore look'st thou sad?
What discontent hath stopped the crimson current
Which ran so cheerefully within that brow,
And makes it sullen like a standing poole?
Tell me who ist hath wrong[d] my _Cicero_?
[Say,[281] is it _Lentulus_?]
_Tul_. Oh wrong him not.
_Tere_. Who is it then, that wrongs my _Tully_ so?
What, hath _Terentia_ 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.
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