Why have not I ten thousand hands to fight
It all myself, and make the work my own?
Enter Cratesiclea, Cleora, and Cleonidas.
Crat. Is this well done? or like the king of Sparta?
Or like my son? to waste your time in tears?
What have you done, that you avoid mankind,
And sculk in corners like a guilty slave?
Cleor. We have been seeking you, my dearest lord,
Through all the shady walks and dark retreats
Of secret care; that false deluding friend,