’Tis here: it is engender’d: I am arm’d
With all my counsels.
Geta. What d’ye mean to do?
Phor. What would you have me do, unless contrive
That Phanium may remain, that Antipho
Be freed from blame, and all the old man’s rage
Turn’d upon me?
Geta. Brave fellow! friend indeed!
And yet I often tremble for you, Phormio,
Lest all this noble confidence of yours