Dem. I will know him before long. (Going to the door.)
Syr. (stopping him.) What are you about? Whither are you going?
Dem. (struggling.) Let me alone.
Syr. (holding him.) Don’t, I tell you.
Dem. Won’t you keep your hands off, whip-scoundrel? Or would you like me to knock your brains out this instant?
Rushes into the house.
Syr. He’s gone! no very pleasant boon-companion, upon my faith, particularly to Ctesipho. What am I to do now? Why, even get into some corner till this tempest is lulled, and sleep off this drop of wine. That’s my plan.
Goes into the house, staggering.
[ Scene III.]
Enter Micio, from the house of Sostrata.