Clin. Now, Heav’n so help me, I rejoice at this
On her account much rather than my own,
Her, whom I know worthy the highest honors.
Syrus. No doubt on’t.—But now, Clinia, hold a while!
Give me a moment’s hearing in my turn.
For your friend’s business must be thought of now,
And well secur’d, lest our old gentleman
Suspect about the wench.
Clin. O Jupiter! (In raptures.)
Syrus. Peace! (Impatiently.)