I'm downright undone. Why don't you be quiet,
heart of mine? Go and be stretched, and hang yourself; you are throbbing
_so, that_ unfortunate I can hardly stand up for _my_ fear.
HEG. Is a full assurance given me that this was a slave in Elis, and
that he is not Philocrates?
ARIST. So fully, that you will never find this to be otherwise; but
where is he [11] now?
HEG. Where I the least, and he the most could wish himself. In
consequence, then, I'm cut asunder, [12] disjointed, to my sorrow, by
the devices of this scoundrel, who has bamboozled me by his tricks just
as he has thought fit. But do, please, have a care _that you are
right_.
ARIST. Why, I assure you of this, _as_ an ascertained and
established fact.
HEG. For certain? ARIST. Why, nothing, I say, will you find more certain
than this certainty. Philocrates, from when a boy, has ever since that
time been my friend.
HEG. But of what appearance is your friend Philocrates?
ARIST. I'll tell you: with a thin face, sharp nose, light hair, dark
eyes, somewhat ruddy, with hair rather crisp and curling.
HEG. _The description_ is like. TYND. (_aside_). _Aye_,
so much so, indeed, that I've this day, much to my sorrow, got into the
midst of this, i' faith. Woe to those unfortunate rods, which this day
will be meeting their end upon my back.
HEG. I see that I've been imposed upon.
TYND.
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