And gladly so remove what stops our toils!
Amph. Thou—go then! March where needs must! What remains—
Perhaps concerns another. Doing ill,
Expect some ill be done thee!
Ha, old friends!
On he strides beautifully! in the toils
O' the net, where swords spring forth, will he be fast—
Minded to kill his neighbors—the arch-knave!
I go, too—I must see the falling corpse!
For he has sweets to give—a dying man,