Azèma.Oh, leave us, sir!
Find some excuse to go, that he and I
May be alone together.
Phil.Leave me, sir.
I’ll give your tongue a lesson ere the night!
Chrys. How has my tongue offended?—Oh, I see—
Exactly—don’t explain! (Aside) Poor Zeolide!
[Exit.
Phil. Insolent scoundrel! (following him.)
Azèma.Oh, don’t follow him.