I’d tear his eyes out, and then tumble him,
Head foremost down some precipice.—The rest
I’d rush on, drag, crush, trample under foot.
But why do I delay to tell my mistress
This heavy news as soon as possible! (Going.)
Sos. Let’s call him back.—Ho, Geta!
Geta. Whosoe’er
You are, excuse me.
Sos. I am Sostrata.
Geta. Where, where is Sostrata? (Turns about.) I sought you, Madam;