Chrem. (to himself, apart.) Shall I accost her, or shall I wait to learn more distinctly what it is she’s saying?
Soph. (to herself.) If now I could find him, there’s nothing that I should be in fear of.
Chrem. (apart, to himself, aloud.) ’Tis the very woman. I’ll address her.
Soph. (turning round.) Who’s that speaking here?
Chrem. (coming forward.) Sophrona.
Soph. Mentioning my name, too?
Chrem. Look round at me.
Soph. (seeing him.) Ye Gods, I do beseech you, isn’t this Stilpho?
Chrem. No.
Soph. Do you deny it?