Sost.No, son.
I’ll do my best to win him. (To Ph.) I thank you, sir, very kindly.
[Exit Sostrata.
Ph. I wish you good success.
A sensible body. I lean
On her and old Menedemus. Not that I doubt myself;
I know a stroke to play: is’t not the feast of Bacchus?
I will invoke the god; his genius will confound
This dull, contrary Chremes. What’s his humour worth
To gods or men, that I should bow to it? Nay, & since