Phæd. Why, how to divide the business equally; to take the gift, and refuse the giver, thou art so damnably ugly, and so old.
Merc. Now the devil take Jupiter, for confining me to this ungodly shape to-day! [Aside.] but Gripus is as old and as ugly too.
Phæd. But Gripus is a person of quality, and my lady's uncle; and if he marries me, I shall take place of my lady.—Hark, your wife! she has sent her tongue before her. I hear the thunderclap already; there is a storm approaching.
Merc. Yes, of thy brewing; I thank thee for it. O how I should hate thee now, if I could leave loving thee!
Phæd. Not a word of the dear golden goblet, as you hope for—you know what, Sosia.
Merc. You give me hope, then——
Phæd. Not absolutely hope neither; but gold is a great cordial in love matters; and the more you apply of it, the better.—[Aside.] I am honest, that is certain; but when I weigh my honesty against the goblet, I am not quite resolved on which side the scale will turn. [Exit Phæd.
Merc. [Aloud.] Farewell, Phædra; remember me to my wife, and tell her——
Enter Bromia.