Enter Harpax, in a fearful shape, fire flashing out of the Study.
Harp. Hold!
Theoph. Not for Cæsar.
Harp. But for me thou shalt.
Theoph. Thou art no twin to him that last was here.
Ye Powers, whom my soul bids me reverence, guard me!
What art thou?
Harp. I am thy master.
Theoph. Mine!
Harp. And thou my everlasting slave: that Harpax,
Who hand in hand hath led thee to thy hell,
Am I.
Theoph. Avaunt!
Harp. I will not; cast thou down
That basket with the things in 't, and fetch up
What thou hast swallow'd, and then take a drink,
Which I shall give thee, and I'm gone.