Pam. Sir! (To Simo.)
Simo. Be it so.
Chremes. My daughter’s portion is
Ten talents, Pamphilus.
Pam. I am content.
Chremes. I’ll to her instantly: and prithee, Crito,
Along with me! for sure she knows me not.
Exeunt Chremes and Crito.
Simo. Why do you not give orders instantly
To bring her to our house?