Pyth. Do you ask? Do you think of admitting him after this into your house?
Thais. Why not?
Pyth. Trust my word for it, he’ll be creating some new disturbance.
Thais. O dear, prithee, do hold your tongue.
Pyth. You seem to me to be far from sensible of his assurance.
Chæ. I’ll not do any thing, Pythias.
Pyth. Upon my faith, I don’t believe you, Chærea, except in case you are not trusted.
Chæ. Nay but, Pythias, do you be my keeper.
Pyth. Upon my faith, I would neither venture to give any thing to you to keep, nor to keep you myself: away with you!
Thais. Most opportunely the brother himself is coming.