This very Pamphilus, how many times
He swore to Bacchis, swore so solemnly
One could not but believe him, that he never
Would, in her lifetime, marry. See! he’s married.
Syra. I warn you, therefore, and most earnestly
Conjure you, to have pity upon none.
But plunder, fleece, and beggar ev’ry man
That falls into your pow’r.
Phi. What! spare none?
Syra. None.