Phæd. How’s this!
Pyth. Who, were he now within my reach,
How could I fly upon the vagabond,
And tear the villain’s eyes out with my nails?
Phæd. What tumult’s this, arisen in my absence?
I’ll go and ask her.— (Going up.) What’s the matter, Pythias?
Why thus disturb’d? and whom is it you seek?
Pyth. Whom do I seek? Away, Sir Phædria!
You and your gifts together!
Phæd. What’s the matter?