Phæd. You are drunk.
Pyth. I wish that they were so, who wish ill to me.
Dorias. Oh, prithee, my dear Pythias, what a monstrous thing this is!
Phæd. You are out of your senses. How could a Eunuch possibly do this?
Pyth. I know nothing about him: as to what he has done, the thing speaks for itself. The girl is in tears; and when you ask her what’s the matter, she does not dare tell. But he, a precious fellow, is nowhere to be seen. To my sorrow I suspect too, that when he took himself off he carried something away from the house.
Phæd. I can not enough wonder, whither this varlet can possibly have betaken himself to any distance from here; unless perhaps he has returned home to our house.
Pyth. Pray, go and see whether he is there.
Phæd. I’ll let you know immediately.
Goes into the house of Laches.
Dorias. Ruined outright! Prithee, my dear, I never did so much as hear of a deed so abominable!