Pam. Aye, so they say.

Char. Ah, Pamphilus, if so, this day

You see the last of me.

Pam. How so?

Char. Ah me!

I dare not speak it: prithee tell him, Byrrhia.

Byr. Aye, that I will.

Pam. What is’t?

Byr. He is in love

With your bride, Sir.