Tony. Yes, but if the wolves eat him up first, or the bandits kill him?…
Beauty. It was foolish of you to let him go.—Young man! Young man!
Tony. Yes, you might send one of your husband's greyhounds after him; I don't feel like running at the moment myself. Lead me to your house, for I am dying of hunger and thirst.
Beauty. Don't worry.
Tony. I have made up my mind to eat, even though your husband should be an ogre and you an ogress.
Beauty. What nonsense are you talking now?
Tony. None, none whatever. Only hunger is turning my head. [Aside] If they mean to eat me, they will be sure to feed me first, so that I may get fatter. Do you intend to stay here?
Tutor. Yes, I shall remain until I hear from you. I shall follow the one who finds the more commodious shelter.
Tony. But aren't you starved?
Tutor. Spiritual food will suffice me.
Tony. A pleasant dinner!… Come along.
Beauty. Follow me.
Tutor. The Royal Geographical Society cannot possibly make a mistake.
