Scene VII.

Enter Clitipho .

Clit. Oh mother, if there ever was a time When you took pleasure in me, or delight To call me son, beseech you, think of that; Pity my present misery, and tell me Who are my real parents!

Sostra. My dear son, Take not, I beg, that notion to your mind, That you're an alien to our blood.

Clit. I am.

Sostra. Ah me! and can you then demand me that? So may you prosper after both, as you're Of both the child! and if you love your mother, Take heed henceforward that I never hear Such words from you.

Chrem. And if you fear your father, See that I never find such vices in you.

Clit. What vices?

Chrem. What? I'll tell you. Trifler, idler, Cheat, drunkard, whoremaster, and prodigal. - Think this, and think that you are ours.

Sostra. These words Suit not a father.

Chrem. No, no, Clitipho, Though from my brain you had been born, as Pallas Sprang, it is said, from Jupiter, I would not Bear the disgrace of your enormities.

Sostra. The Gods forbid -

Chrem. I know not for the Gods: I will do all that lies in me. You seek For parents, which you have: but what is wanting, Obedience to your father, and the means To keep what he by labor hath acquir'd, For that you seek not. - Did you not by tricks Ev'n to my presence introduce - I blush To speak immodestly before your mother: But you by no means blush'd to do't.

Clit. Alas! How hateful am I to myself! how much Am I asham'd! so lost, I can not tell How to attempt to pacify my father.