He had no mercy.—Was not he asham’d

To beat a poor old fellow? to beat me;

Who bore him in my arms but t’other day,

An urchin thus high? (Showing.)

Dem. Oh rare, Ctesipho!

Father’s own son! a man, I warrant him.

Syrus. Oh rare, d’ye cry? I’ faith, if he is wise,

He’ll hold his hands another time.

Dem. Oh brave!

Syrus. Oh mighty brave, indeed!—Because he beat