Geta (to himself.) Wretch! whom neither honor,
Nor oaths, nor pity could control or move!
Nor her approaching labor; her, on whom
He shamefully committed violation!
Sos. I don’t well understand him.
Can. Prithee then
Let us draw nearer, Sostrata!
Geta (to himself.) Alas,
I’m scarcely in my perfect mind, I burn
With such fierce anger.—Oh, that I had all