Davus. Mine, Sir?
Simo. Are your players
Unmindful of their cues, and want a prompter?
Davus. I do not comprehend you.
Simo (apart.) If this knave
Had, in the real nuptial of my son,
Come thus upon me unprepar’d, what sport,
What scorn he’d have exposed me to? But now
At his own peril be it. I’m secure.