Phor. This I’ll tell her. (Going toward the house.)
Chrem. Don’t, I beseech you!
Phor. Oh! are you the man?
Dem. Death! how insulting!
Chrem. (to Phormio). We discharge you.
Phor. Nonsense!
Chrem. What would you more? The money you have got
We will forgive you.
Phor. Well; I hear you now.
—But what a plague d’ye mean by fooling thus,