PHÆ. Yes, for from base things we devise things noble.
NUR. Wilt not thou, then, appear more noble by telling it?
PHÆ. Depart, by the Gods, and let go my hand!
NUR. No in sooth, since thou givest me not the boon that were right.
PHÆ. I will give it; for I have respect unto the reverence of thy hand.
NUR. Now will I be silent: for hence is it yours to speak.
PHÆ. O wretched mother, what a love didst thou love!
NUR. That which she had for the bull, my child, or what is this thou meanest?
PHÆ. Thou, too, O wretched sister, wife of Bacchus!
NUR. Child, what ails thee? thou speakest ill against thy relations.