Chapter 84

_SYRUS, alone._

My mind misgives me, my defeat is nigh, This unexpected incident has driven My forces into such a narrow pass, I can not even handsomely retreat Without some feint, to hinder our old man From seeing that this wench is Clitipho's. As for the money, and the trick I dream'd of, Those hopes are flown, and I shall hold it triumph, So I but 'scape a scouring--Cursed fortune, To have so delicate a morsel snatch'd Out of my very jaws!--What shall I do? What new device? for I must change my plan. --Nothing so difficult, but may be won By industry.--Suppose, I try it thus. (_Thinking._) --'Twill never do.--Or thus?--No better still. But thus I think.--No, no.--Yes, excellent! Courage! I have it.--Good!--Good!--best of all!---- --'Faith, I begin to hope to lay fast hold Of that same slipp'ry money after all.