Syr. Pshaw! Just as if there was no place to walk in. Why, then, go this way, that way, where you will.
Chrem. He says right, I’m of his opinion.
Clit. May the Gods extirpate you, Syrus, for thrusting me away from here.
Syr. (aside to Clitipho.) Then do you for the future keep those hands of yours within bounds. (Exit Clitipho.) Really now (to Chremes), what do you think? What do you imagine will become of him next, unless, so far as the Gods afford you the means, you watch him, correct and admonish him?
Chrem. I’ll take care of that.
Syr. But now, master, he must be looked after by you.
Chrem. It shall be done.
Syr. If you are wise,—for now he minds me less and less every day.
Chrem. What say you? What have you done, Syrus, about that matter which I was mentioning to you a short time since? Have you any plan that suits you, or not yet even?
Syr. You mean the design upon Menedemus? I have; I have just hit upon one.