I’m sure he’d wish them to tell me; and ’twould be kindness’ self
Gently to break the news to the poor old man. Suppose
I say that I’m Menedemus. I’m sure that scowling fellow
Would drive him out of his wits with fright. Ay, so I’ll do.—
Sir, tell your master that I’m Menedemus.
Pam. (to Phil.). Ho; the deuce!
What’s to be done?
Ph. (to Pam.). The old liar. It’s all the same in the end.
He’ll tell Menedemus for us. Go on.
840