Scene VII
Enter, at a distance, Phormio.
Phor. (to himself). I’ve receiv’d the money;
Paid the procurer; carried off the wench;
Who’s free, and now in Phædria’s possession.
One thing alone remains to be dispatch’d;
To get a respite from th’ old gentlemen
To tipple some few days, which I must spend
In mirth and jollity.
Ant. But yonder’s Phormio.— (Goes up.)
What now?
Phor. Of what?
Ant. What’s Phædria about?
How does he mean to take his fill of love?
Phor. By acting your part in his turn.
Ant. What part?
Phor. Flying his father’s presence.—And he begs
That you’d act his, and make excuses for him;
For he intends a drinking-bout with me.
I shall pretend to the old gentlemen
That I am going to the fair at Sunium,
To buy the servant-maid that Geta mention’d:
Lest, finding I am absent, they suspect
That I am squandering the sum they paid me.
—But your door opens.
Ant. Who comes here?
Phor. ’Tis Geta.