Pyth. (to herself, on entering.) Never, upon my faith, for a long time past, has any thing happened to me that I could have better liked to happen, than the old gentleman just now, full of his mistake, coming into our house. I had the joke all to myself, as I knew[106] what it was he feared.
Par. (apart). Why, what’s all this?
Pyth. Now I’m come out to meet with Parmeno. But, prithee, where is he? (Looking around.)
Par. (apart.) She’s looking for me.
Pyth. And there he is, I see; I’ll go up to him.
Par. What’s the matter, simpleton? What do you mean? What are you laughing about? Still going on?
Pyth. (laughing.) I’m dying; I’m wretchedly tired with laughing at you.
Par. Why so?
Pyth. Do you ask? Upon my faith, I never did see, nor shall see, a more silly fellow. Oh dear, I can not well express what amusement you’ve afforded in-doors. And still I formerly took you to be a clever and shrewd person. Why, was there any need for you instantly to believe what I told you? Or were you not content with the crime, which by your advice the young man had been guilty of, without betraying the poor fellow to his father as well? Why, what do you suppose his feelings must have been at the moment when his father saw him clothed in that dress? Well, do you now understand that you are done for? (Laughing.)
Par. Hah! what is it you say, you hussy? Have you been telling me lies? What, laughing still? Does it appear so delightful to you, you jade, to be making fools of us?