_Men_. I have found her Sir,
I mean the place she is lodg'd in; her name is _Celia_,
And much adoe I had to purchase that too.

_Ant_. Dost think _Demetrius_ loves her?

_Men_. Much I fear it,
But nothing that way yet can win for certain.
I'le tell your grace within this hour.

_Ant_. A stranger?

_Men_. Without all doubt.

_Ant_. But how should he come to her?

_Men_. There lies the marrow of the matter hid yet.

_Ant_. Hast thou been with thy wife?

_Men_. No Sir, I am going to her.

_Ant_. Go and dispatch, and meet me in the garden,
And get all out ye can. [_Exit._

_Men_. I'le doe my best Sir. [_Exit._

_Tim._ Blest be thy wife, thou wert an arrant ass else.