ANT. Alas me! what wilt thou say, my mother?
JOC. Nothing of pleasant import; but follow.
ANT. Whither? leaving my virgin chamber.
JOC. To the army.
ANT. I am ashamed to go among the crowd.
JOC. Thy present state admits not bashfulness.
ANT. But what shall I do then?
JOC. Thou shalt quell the strife of the brothers.
ANT. Doing what, my mother.
JOC. Falling before them with me.