Sos. I would fain bring it about, that I might make one of them; but he's unreasonable, and will needs incorporate me, and swallow me whole into himself. If he would be content to be but one-and-a-half, 'twould never grieve me.
Merc. 'Tis a perverse rascal: I kick him, and cudgel him, to no purpose; for still he's obstinate to stick to me; and I can never beat him out of my resemblance.
Phæd. Which of you two is Sosia? for t'other must be the devil.
Sos. You had best ask him, that has played the devil with my back and sides.
Merc. You had best ask him,—who gave you the gold goblet?
Phæd. No, that's already given; but he shall be my Sosia, that will give me such another.
Merc. I find you have been interloping, sirrah.
Sos. No, indeed, sir; I only promised her a gold thimble, which was as much as comes to my proportion of being Sosia.
Phæd. This is no Sosia for my money; beat him away, t'other Sosia; he grows insufferable.
Sos. [Aside.] Would I were valiant, that I might beat him away; and succeed him at the dinner, for a pragmatical son of a whore, as he is!