Geta. I don’t consider you so. But is it so trifling a matter that the old gentleman is now vexed with us all, that we must provoke him still more, and leave no room for entreaty?
Phæd. Is another man to take her away from before my eyes to some unknown spot? Alas! speak to me then, Antipho, and look upon me while you have the opportunity, and while I’m present.
Ant. Why so, or what are you going to do? Pray, tell me.
Phæd. To whatever part of the world she is borne away, I’m determined to follow her or to perish.
Geta. May the Gods prosper your design! Cautiously’s the word, however.
Ant. (to Geta.) Do see if you can give him any assistance at all.
Geta. Any at all—how?
Ant. Pray, do try, that he mayn’t be doing something that we may afterward be more or less sorry for, Geta.
Geta. I’m considering. (He pauses.) He’s all safe, so far as I can guess: but still, I’m afraid of mischief.
Ant. Don’t be afraid: together with you, we’ll share good and bad.