To stay but these three days?-- Nay, where d'ye go?

DORIO. I should have wonder'd had you said aught new.

ANT. (_behind_). This pimp, I fear, will work himself no
good.

GETA. I fear so too.

PHAED. Won't you believe me?

DORIO. Guess.

PHAED. Upon my honor.

DORIO. Nonsense.

PHAED. 'Tis a kindness
Shall be repaid with interest.

DORIO. Words, words!

PHAED. You'll be glad on't; you will, believe me.

DORIO. Pshaw!

PHAED. Try; 'tis not long.

DORIO. You're in the same tune still.

PHAED. My kinsman, parent, friend!----

DORIO. Aye, talk away.

PHAED. Can you be so inflexible, so cruel.
That neither pity nor entreaties touch you?

DORIO. And can you be so inconsiderate,
And so unconscionable, Phaedria,
To think that you can talk me to your purpose,
And wheedle me to give the girl for nothing?

ANT. (_behind_). Poor Phaedria!

PHAED. (_to himself_). Alas! he speaks the truth.

GETA (_to ANTIPHO_). How well they each support their characters!

PHAED. (_to himself_). Then that this evil should have come
upon me,
When Antipho was in the like distress!

ANT. (_going up_). Ha! what now, Phaedria?

PHAED. Happy, happy Antipho!----

ANT. I?

PHAED. Who have her you love in your possession,
Nor e'er had plagues like these to struggle with!

ANT. In my possession? yes, I have, indeed,
As the old saying goes, a wolf by th' ears:
For I can neither part with her nor keep her.

DORIO. 'Tis just my case with him.

ANT. (_to DORIO_). Thou thorough bawd!
--(_To PHAEDRIA._) What has he done?

PHAED. Done?--The inhuman wretch
Has sold my Pamphila.

GETA. What! sold her?

ANT. Sold her?

PHAED. Yes; sold her.

DORIO (_laughing_). Sold her.--What a monstrous crime!
A wench he paid his ready money for.

PHAED. I can't prevail upon him to wait for me,
And to stave off his bargain but three days;
Till I obtain the money from my friends,
According to their promise.--If I do not
Pay it you then, don't wait a moment longer.

DORIO. You stun me.

ANT. 'Tis a very little time
For which he asks your patience, Dorio.
Let him prevail on you; your complaisance
Shall be requited doubly.

DORIO. Words; mere words!

ANT. Can you then bear to see your Pamphila
Torn from this city, Phaedria?--Can you, Dorio,
Divide their loves

DORIO. Nor I, nor you.

GETA. Plague on you!

DORIO (_to PHAEDRIA_). I have, against my natural disposition,
Borne with you several months, still promising,
Whi