Pyth. The matter, Sir! the Eunuch, that you sent us,
Has made fine work here! the young virgin, whom
The Captain gave my mistress, he has ravish’d.
Phæd. Ravish’d? How say you?
Pyth. Ruin’d, and undone!
Phæd. You’re drunk.
Pyth. Would those who wish me ill were so!
Dori. Ah Pythias! what strange prodigy is this?
Phæd. You’re mad: how could an Eunuch——
Pyth. I don’t know