They’re growing desperate, and making tow’rd me
With a determin’d gladiatorial air.
Chrem. (to Demipho). I fear she’ll ne’er forgive me.
Dem. Courage, Chremes!
I’ll reconcile her to’t; especially
The mother being dead and gone.
Phor. Is this
Your dealing, gentlemen? You come upon me
Extremely cunningly.—But, Demipho,
You have but ill consulted for your brother,