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Enter Dromo in haste, from the house of Micio.

Dro. Halloo, Syrus! Ctesipho desires you’ll come back.

Syr. Get you gone.

Pushes him back into the house.

Dem. What is it he says about Ctesipho?

Syr. Nothing.

Dem. How now, you hang-dog, is Ctesipho in the house?

Syr. He is not.

Dem. Then why does he mention him?

Syr. It’s another person; a little diminutive Parasite. Don’t you know him?

Dem. I will know him before long. (Going to the door.)

Syr. (stopping him.) What are you about? Whither are you going?

Dem. (struggling.) Let me alone.

Syr. (holding him.) Don’t, I tell you.

Dem. Won’t you keep your hands off, whip-scoundrel? Or would you like me to knock your brains out this instant?

Rushes into the house.

Syr. He’s gone! no very pleasant boon-companion, upon my faith, particularly to Ctesipho. What am I to do now? Why, even get into some corner till this tempest is lulled, and sleep off this drop of wine. That’s my plan.

Goes into the house, staggering.