Char. Ah me! I dread to tell it; prithee, do you tell it, Bvrrhia.
Byr. I’ll tell it.
Pam. What is it?
Byr. He’s in love with your betrothed.
Pam. Assuredly he’s not of my way of thinking. Come now, tell me, have you had any more to do with her, Charinus?
Char. Oh Pamphilus, nothing.
Pam. How much I wish you had.
Char. Now, by our friendship and by my affection, I do beseech you, in the first place, not to marry her.
Pam. For my own part I’ll use my endeavors.
Char. But if that can not be, or if this marriage is agreeable to you—