Either you’ll straight return, or soon at night
Your dreams will drive you out o’ doors.
Phæd. I’ll toil;
That, weary, I may sleep against my will.
Par. Weary you may be; but you’ll never sleep.
Phæd. Ah, Parmeno, you wrong me. I’ll cast out
This treacherous softness from my soul, nor thus
Indulge my passions. Yes, I could remain,
If need, without her even three whole days.
Par. Hui! three whole livelong days! consider, Sir.