Geta. Heaven prosper your designs!—
Gently, Sir, gently!
Ant. See if you can help him.
Geta. Help him! but how?
Ant. Nay, think, invent, devise;
Lest he do something we repent of, Geta!
Geta. I’m thinking. (Pausing.)—Well then I believe, he’s safe.
But I’m afraid of mischief.
Ant. Never fear:
We’ll bear all good and evil fortune with you.