Look on thy better husband, and thy friend,
Who will not leave thee liable to scorn,
But vindicate thy honour from that wretch,
Who would by base aspersions blot thy virtue.
Alcm. [Going to him, who embraces her.]
I was indeed mistaken; thou art he!
Thy words, thy thoughts, thy soul is all Amphitryon.
The impostor has thy features, not thy mind;
The face might have deceived me in my choice,
Thy kindness is a guide that cannot err.