Reply to what I ask you. Tell me what
You do within there.
Dav. Who, me?
Sim. Ay, you.
Dav. Who, I?
Sim. You, you I say.
Dav. A moment since,
Only, did I come here.
Sim. I did not ask you when,
But wherefore?
Dav. With your son.
Sim. What doth he there?
I am on thorns. Did you not tell me, sirrah,
That they had quarrelled?
Dav. Ay, that was so.
Sim. Well, then, what doth he there?
Chr. [With irony.] What doth he there?
He quarrels with her.
Dav. More, O Chremes! more,
An insolence unheard of. An old man,
Who or from whence I know not; an old man,
With a front bold and sly, who seems to think
Well of himself—with face of formal cut,
And words of candour.
Sim. Well, what stuff is this!
Dav. Nought; save for what he said.
Sim. What did he say?
Dav. Glycerium is an Attic citizen.
Sim. Hey, Dromo! Dromo!
Dav. What's the matter now?
Sim. Dromo!
Dav. Hear!
