Ste. You've tricked me, Pelagon! What fubbery
Have you put on me?
Pel. Sir? Now, now! Why, friend!
Ste. That's not my daughter!
Bia. [Drawing Creon back] Whist!
Ste. I'll see my own!
My Phania! Not that bib,—that mewling piece,
With th' milk still in her mouth!
Pel. Speak so of her?
A bud in th' dew! A cherry next its leaf!
A pippin on the limb!
Ste. Not mine, I say!
Pel. If you repent you did beget her, sir,
I'll be your shift and own the curtained deed
'Fore man and Heaven.
Ste. That my child?
Pel. Yours, friend.