We must have patience, for they will be gods,
And give us no account of what we suffer.
Clean. My father much abhors this middle way,
Betwixt a gift and sale of courtesy.
But 'tis the mistress; she that seemed so kind,
'Tis she, that bears so hard a hand upon you;
She that would half oblige, and half affront.
Cleom. Let her be what she is: that's curse enough.
But such a wife, a mother, and a son!
Oh sure, ye gods! when ye made this vile Egypt,