Davus (listening). What’s this he says he has smelt out?
Simo. Imprimis, (To himself.)
’Tis this rogue’s trick upon me. All a sham:
A counterfeit deliv’ry, and mock labor,
Devis’d to frighten Chremes from the match.
Gly. (within). Juno Lucina, save me! Help, I pray thee.
Simo. Heyday! Already! Oh ridiculous!
Soon as she heard that I was at the door
She hastens to cry out: your incidents
Are ill-tim’d, Davus.