DAVUS. My master here! (_Turning about._) What shall I do? (_To himself._) SIMO. Good Sir, your humble Servant! (_Sneering._) DAVUS. Oh, Simo! and our Chremes!--All is now Prepar'd within. SIMO. You've taken special care. (_Ironically._) DAVUS. E'en call them when you please. SIMO. Oh, mighty fine! That to be sure is all that's wanting now. --But tell me, Sir! what business had you there? (_Pointing to GLYCERIUM'S._) DAVUS. I? (_Confused._) SIMO. You? DAVUS. I--? (_Stammering._) SIMO. You, Sir. DAVUS. I went in but now. (_Disordered._) SIMO. As if I ask'd, how long it was ago. DAVUS. With Pamphilus. SIMO. Is Pamphilus within? --Oh torture.--Did not you assure me, Sirrah, They were at variance? DAVUS. So they are. SIMO. Why then Is Pamphilus within? CHREMES. Oh, why d'ye think? He's gone to quarrel with her. (_Sneering._) DAVUS. Nay, but Chremes, There's more in this, and you shall hear strange news. There's an old countryman, I know not who, Is just arriv'd here; confident and shrewd; His look bespeaks him of some consequence. A grave severity is in his face, And credit in his words. SIMO. What story now? DAVUS. Nay, nothing, Sir, but what I heard him say. SIMO. And what says he, then? DAVUS. That he's well assur'd Glycerium's an Athenian citizen. SIMO. Ho, Dromo! Dromo! DAVUS. What now? SIMO. Dromo! DAVUS. Hear me. SIMO. Speak but a word more--Dromo! DAVUS. Pray, Sir, hear! SCENE III. _Enter DROMO._ DROMO. Your pleasure, Sir? SIMO. Here, drag him headlong in, And truss the rascal up immediately. DROMO. Whom? SIMO. Davus. DAVUS. Why! SIMO. Because I'll have it so. Take him, I say. DAVUS. For what offense? SIMO. Off with him! DAVUS. If it appear that I've said aught but truth, Put me to death. SIMO. I will not hear. I'll trounce you. DAVUS. But though it should prove true, Sir! SIMO. True or false. See that you keep him bound: and do you hear? Bind the slave hand and foot. Away! (_Exeunt DROMO and DAVUS._ SCENE IV. _Manent SIMO, CHREMES._ --By Heav'n, As I do live, I'll make you know this day What peril lies in trifling with a master, And make him know what 'tis to plague a father. CHREMES. Ah, be not in such rage. SIMO. Oh Chremes, Chremes, Filial unkindness!--Don't you pity me! To feel all this for such a thankless son!---- Here, Pamphilus, come forth! ho, Pamphilus! Have you no shame? (_Calling at GLYCERIUM'S door._) SCENE V. _Enter PAMPHILUS._ PAM. Who calls?--Undone! my father! SIMO. What say you? Most---- CHREMES. Ah, rather speak at once Your purpose, Simo, and forbear reproach. SIMO. As if 'twere possible to utter aught Severer than he merits!--Tell me then; (_To PAM._) Glycerium is a citizen? PAM. They say so.