Syrus. Sure? I set out with him myself.
Dem. Good! good!
I was afraid he loiter’d here. (Aside.)
Syrus. And much
Enrag’d, I promise you.
Dem. On what account?
Syrus. A quarrel with his brother at the Forum,
About the Music-Girl.
Dem. Indeed?
Syrus. Aye, faith: