PALAESTRIO: (to PHILOCOMASIUM) Prithee, when will you this day make an end of your weeping?

PHILOCOMASIUM: What can I do but weep? I am going away hence where I have spent my days most happily.

PALAESTRIO: See, there's the man that has come from your mother and sister.

PHILOCOMASIUM: I see him.

PYRGOPOLYNICES: Palaestrio, do you hear?

PALAESTRIO: What is your pleasure?

PYRGOPOLYNICES: Aren't you ordering those presents to be brought out which I gave her?

PLEUSICLES: Health to you, Philocomasium.

PHILOCOMASIUM: And health to you.

PLEUSICLES: Your mother and sister bade me give their love to you.

PHILOCOMASIUM: Heaven prosper them.

PLEUSICLES: They beg you to set out, so that, while the wind is fair, they may set sail. But if your mother's eyes had been well, she would have come together