Chrem. What then?
Syr. Because it will seem to be more like probability when he gives it her; and at the same time I shall effect more easily what I wish. Here he comes too; go, and bring out the money.
Chrem. I’ll bring it.
Goes into his house.
[ Scene VI.]
Enter Clitipho.
Clit. (to himself.) There is nothing so easy but that it becomes difficult when you do it with reluctance. As this walk of mine, for instance, though not fatiguing, it has reduced me to weariness. And now I dread nothing more than that I should be packed off somewhere hence once again, that I may not have access to Bacchis. May then all the Gods and Goddesses, as many as exist, confound you, Syrus, with these stratagems and plots of yours. You are always devising something of this kind, by means of which to torture me.
Syr. Will you not away with you—to where you deserve? How nearly had your forwardness proved my ruin!
Clit. Upon my faith, I wish it had been so; just what you deserve.
Syr. Deserve? How so? Really, I’m glad that I’ve heard this from you before you had the money which I was just going to give you.