Enter Geta, running, at the other side of the stage.
Geta (to himself.) Geta, you are undone, unless you instantly find out some expedient; so suddenly do such mighty evils now threaten me thus unprepared, which I neither know how to shun, nor how to extricate myself therefrom; for this daring step of ours can not now any longer be kept a secret. If such a result is not adroitly guarded against, these matters will cause the ruin of myself, or of my master.
Ant. (to Phædria.) Why, I wonder, is he coming in such fright?
Geta (to himself.) Besides, I’ve but a moment left for this matter—my master’s close at hand.
Ant. (to Phædria.) What mischief is this?
Geta (to himself.) When he comes to hear of it, what remedy shall I discover for his anger? Am I to speak? I shall irritate him: be silent? I shall provoke him: excuse myself? I should be washing a brickbat.[36] Alas! unfortunate me! While I am trembling for myself, this Antipho distracts my mind. I am concerned for him; I’m in dread for him: ’tis he that now keeps me here; for had it not been for him, I should have made due provision for my safety, and have taken vengeance on the old man for his crabbedness; I should have scraped up something, and straightway taken to my heels away from here.
Ant. (to Phædria.) I wonder what running away or theft it is that he’s planning.
Geta (to himself.) But where shall I find Antipho, or which way go look for him?
Phæd. (to Antipho.) He’s mentioning your name.
Ant. (to Phædria.) I know not what great misfortune I expect to hear from this messenger.