Enter Clitipho.
Clit. (to himself). Nothing so easy in itself, but when
Perform’d against one’s will, grows difficult.
This little walk how easy! yet how faint
And weary it has made me!—and I fear
Lest I be still excluded, and forbid
To come near Bacchis. (Seeing Syrus.)—Now all powers above.
Confound you, Syrus, for the trick you play’d me!
That brain of yours is evermore contriving
Some villainy to torture me withal.