Geta. You’ll have it now.
But Phormio must assist me in this business.
Ant. He’s ready: lay what load you will upon him,
He’ll bear it all; for he’s a friend indeed.
Geta. Let’s to him quickly then!
Ant. D’ye want my help?
Geta. We’ve no occasion for you. Get you home
To the poor girl, who’s almost dead with fear;
And see you comfort her.—Away! d’ye loiter?
Ant. There’s nothing I would do so willingly.