The winds so contrary, such stormy weather!
Par. Dreadful!
Sosia. I found it so, I promise you.
In short, were I assur’d I must return,
’Fore Heaven, Parmeno, I’d run away,
Rather than go on board a ship again.
Par. You have been apt enough to think of that
On slighter reasons, Sosia, before now.
—But yonder’s my young master Pamphilus
Standing before that door.—Go in! I’ll to him,