Davus. His design was to entrap us while we were indulging in an ill-founded joy, and fancied ourselves quite secure. He wished to take advantage of our heedlessness, and make up the match before we could prevent him: what a crafty old fellow!
Simo. How this rascal prates[86]!
Davus. Here is my master! he has overheard me! I never saw him!
Simo. Davus.
Davus. Who calls Davus?
Simo. Come hither, sirrah.
Davus. (aside.) What can he want with me?
Simo. What were you saying?
Davus. About what, Sir?
Simo. About what, Sir? The world says that my son has an intrigue.