Nothing Human Is Strange

I wish I was named after a poet, says Terence.

Why is that? asks Gaius. 

Banjo is, says Terence.

You should be pleased to be named after a playwright, says Gaius.

You should, says Pierre-Louis. There are many fine playwrights. Molière, Racine, Marivaux.

Lucky me, says Terence.

Indeed, says Gaius.

Lucky me because of what? says Terence.

You tell me, says Gaius. 

Lucky me I'm not named after them! says Terence.

Also Shakespeare, says Pierre-Louis.

I might like that better, says Terence.

You can be proud to be named after Terence, says Gaius. He coined several famous phrases, that are still used today.

What are they? asks Terence.

Fortune favours the brave, says Gaius. That was his. Nothing human is strange to me. That was his too.

I wish Banjo would come back down, says Terence.

I don't think he will, says Gaius. His mother was adamant.

An ANT? says Terence. 

Adamant, says Gaius. But we need not give up yet. Fortune favours the brave.

Did you make that up? asks Terence.

No, says Gaius. You know I didn't. 

What's the plan then? asks Pierre-Louis.

We'll send Squattu up again, says Gaius.

I'm ready! says Squattu. Any messages?

Yes, says Terence. Tell Banjo I want a play date.

Excellent, says Gaius.  A play date should disarm them. And we'll send up a chunk of green apple as a sign of good will. 

And the barley sugar? asks Pierre-Louis.

Why not? says Gaius.

Squattu waits for the chunk of green apple.

This was all my idea, says Terence. 

Not the apple says Squattu. Or the barley sugar. 

The play date, says Terence. I thought of that.

The apple chunk is ready. The barley sugar unwrapped.

Squattu zooms up with them to the bark-filled tree hollow, and pokes her head in.

In time to hear Banjo saying: I wish I was named after a playwright.

And why is that? asks his mother.

Terence is, says Banjo.

This is promising.

Squattu squeezes through.