A helpless girl, and me a wretched slave,
Who durst not strike again;—oh, to be sure,
Mighty brave, truly!
Dem. Oh, most exquisite!
My Ctesipho perceived, as well as I,
That you was the contriver of this business.
—But is my brother here?
Syrus. Not he. (Sulkily.)
Dem. I’m thinking
Where I shall seek him.